Iona Part One

Patrick asked me on the bus from Mull if St Brigid or St Patrick ever made it over to Iona. I told him I was not sure but that I am pretty confident it was only St Columba who came from Ireland. We backpacked into Oban and grabbed a coffee before trekking out to the ferry terminal. "Up the stairs and through gate one please," the ferry man said. Not that we could get lost if we wanted too. The terminal was only one story high and there were only two gates. :-) We arrived plenty early and watched as people came and went. Of course we were the only travelers with huge packs and secondary back packs along with a huge back of dried goods to boot. We made our way into the "queue" and awaited our first ferry ride to the Isle of Mull. Patrick and I sat on the observatory deck and watched the waves guide us to our destination. The crossing was only about 45 minutes and POOF we landed in Craignure. After scurrying off to find the bus, which we eventually did, we sat down ready for the next leg of the journey.
I have to pause just a moment to explain that the buses in Ireland are pretty scary. The driver goes pretty fast along those skinny roads and corners, but nothing prepared me for this single lane road trip across the island of Mull.
Now when I say skinny road what I really mean is the actual width of the road was about the size of the walkway around Capital Lake in Olympia... Or a bike path through the Evergreen forest... Needless to say it was a "wee bit" of a road and after having stomach pains for the past 3 days I was certainly not prepared for the dips, turns and frequent stops the bus took as we wove in and out.
This brings me back round to the beginning of this story where Patrick began to ask me questions about Iona... "So do you think?" "So I wonder if?" And the question that got us here, "has St Brigid or St Patrick been on the Isle of Iona?" "No, I do not think so. At least I have not read anything about it. Not to say it could not have happened but I am pretty sure they never came here."
"So when do you think this bus ride will be over?" I was beginning to wonder myself...
Darting here and there I knew it would take at least an hour but it felt like four had passed by the time we arrived in Fionnhport. As I was walking off the bus Patrick asked when the next ferry left and I said I think about 1600. The bus driver answered back with, it is leaving right now!!! We high-tailed down to the ferry dock and as I looked up at the horizon I saw it... The Isle of Iona...
Priorities being what they are, I made my way to the toilet before joining Patrick on the observation deck. The first thing to catch my attention was St Columba's Abbey. It dominated the landscape! A large building with rose windows, scaffolding and old rock met my eyes and the tears began to well up. I looked out at the sea, I looked at the village, I looked at Patrick who was busy taking pictures and I just lost it.  Here was the place where illumination had been birthed and St. Columba had placed himself into exile. I have wanted to travel here for so long and I was making my way across the final bit to step onto the shore... Many things had led me to this place. This one place in history I intended to walk upon... To take in, to breath in, to live, to dream, to dare...
We stepped off the ferry and I hoped and prayed the taxi service (the only one on the island) had received my e-mail about taking us to the hostel. No taxi... "There is a phone just up the road in the village there," one lady said. "Just give them a ring and they will be right down to fetch you." Well as the universe has done this entire trip the taxi rounded the corner as we were beginning our ascent to the village center. I flagged her down. She had not received my email but she could take us to the hostel right after the fare that had reserved her.
I began to look around at our home for the next 5 nights... To breath it in was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my entire life.

Part two:

Then I forgot something... Patrick insisted if we did not turn around get it I would be grumpy all day so we turned around. At the top of the small hill to the hostel, John the owner said he was heading into the village if we would like a lift. I ran back to the hostel, gathered my sunglasses and we headed into town. "You know, " says John, "Iona comes from the name of St Brigid." WHAT??? He continued... "There is a a book called Soil to Soul and it talks about how St Brigid was a fire Goddess and how these islands at one time were all a part of her faith." ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? I sat very silent in the back seat... "There is a Sheela-na-gig in the Nunnery..." 
She was here... My entire energy shifted with the thought that the flame of Brigid, her heart, her soul was on this island with the heart of Columba's sent me into energetic fits of sheer joy... John left us off in the village and up we went to the Nunnery. There she was... Very worn from time and age but she was there... I began to cry... My emotions over ran me as my head just kept screaming she is here!! She is HERE!!! SHE IS HERE!!!
The Nunnery is in shambles. Not complete ruin but there is no roof over most of the structure and it is all pretty much a garden inside the standing walls, with bits and pieces still left behind. While the masculine energy on the island dominates the landscape the feminine power of this place runs deep to the core of my being and the island. There are bodies buried in this place of St Brigid's nuns and other wealthy daughters who were sent to learn from the nuns. I asked around about the Nunnery and there is not a lot known about its history or how came to be. But it was here before St Columba arrived on the island. The book Patrick bought, that I named above, speaks of a time when the entire area was dedicated to the pagan Goddess, Brigid. Most of the women centers were converted to Christianity through the dedication to  St. Brigid.
I regained my composure and we walked from the Nunnery to the Abbey. Today would be a Holy day, set aside for the Saints... No hill traveling for me. As we rounded the corner and looked out to sea there was an old world ship. Patrick counted 8 sails and it appeared to have stepped right out of the 12th century... As if I did not already have a warped sense of time in this space. :-)
The Abbey was amazing! St Columba died on this island and the first structure I visited was his shrine. It was here that he was laid out after his death and pieces of body were sent as relics to various places such as Ireland and England. One of the things I thought was especially fitting is they sent St. Columba's index finger to the Robert the Bruce who wore it into the battle of Bannock Burn and he won! Now I know why we went to Edinburgh... :-)
Part three
We have slept for two nights in the Iona Hostel and I have to preface this bit with the love and light energy I have felt between the people sleeping in our little six person room. We were greeted by Elsje who is a Dutch woman. She arrived about five minutes after we did and if first impressions were "it" I would have written her off immediately... However, she decided to join us for a jaunt into the village for milk. She wanted to split some meat with us because purchasing any sort of meat item on these small islands is very expensive. I certainly would like some hamburger in my pasta so we off we went.
We were soon followed by a lovely lady named Olivia from Switzerland. Patrick and Elsje were taking photographs behind Olivia and I and we walked just ahead of them talking all the way. After our shopping trip, Olivia went to the craft shop and Elsje asked us if we wanted to go have coffee. She is a very direct woman!! Elsje is in her 50's and has two sons. She teaches physical education back home in Holland and has recently divorced her husband. She is here on holiday and for the first time she is by herself. She had already been to Iona a week ago but decided to come back on her way to Oban. We chatted and laughed and made our way back to the hostel where we had dinner and laughed some more. I was beginning to enjoy her company. Then we met Ruth who is from Australia and Andrew who is from the UK. Ruth is a grandmother here on holiday after visiting her children in Germany. Andrew is a student geologist who will be living on Iona for the next 6 weeks. And we are all bunked together in this little room... I am enjoying the company very much. We are able to communicate well together and I have learned a lot from all of them.
I ran into Ruth at the Abbey and we took the tour together. She really wanted a Griffin post card for her grandson but they did not have any of this particular stone piece so I decided to paint it for her. She loved it!! Elsje, Ruth and Olivia decided to take a walk to Columba's bay and we decided to head back to the hostel where we gained one more bunk-mate, Leslie. She is from Edinburgh!!!
Now I feel like I can vent a little which is really what a blog is all about. I like to think that Patrick and I are pretty polite and respectful people. We took our shoes off at the front door, we clean up after ourselves, and are kind of like adults. Oh wait... WE ARE ADULTS!!! (I almost forgot.) The two people who run the hostel are not the owners. They are staying here until November running the place for John the owner. I thought they were fair enough people... But I got this sensation or feeling that they were not very hospitable to all people... The one way to describe it is they have no joy... I do not want to use their nationalities because even I know not all people are representative of their cultural identity... Or that they are automatically this way or that depending on the country they are from. After Patricks episode with being reprimanded we decided to find a new place to stay on the island. Unfortunately the island was booked except for the last two nights we are here so we move on Sunday to the Finlay B&B just over by the ferry.
When we told them we needed to move because we are unable to work here we were greeted with well our policy is we cannot refund your money without a weeks notice, but if we sell your beds then we will give you a refund at that point. I really thought Patrick was going to lose his cool when he crossed his arms. We really just needed to be able to work. Their reply was to go in our rooms and do the work we needed to on the computers. This is asking quite a lot and is quite annoying really when you think about it. Especially since we are not 12 and at summer camp... Oh and we are paying for the room, that's right...
Once we told them we were moving however their tune changed and they were like oh no you can use the kitchen room for your work and it will be fine... We still cancelled our reservations. I thought the tune was changing a bit because they offered to let us use the kitchen area while people were out of the hostel. We sat for a bit with our lap tops out but both just felt "weird" about the whole thing so I decided I was going to draw.
Earlier this day when I was speaking with Ruth about why she was here she said she just wanted to sit and listen to what came to her. I thought wow... That is a great reason to want to come to this island. So today I sat and listened to the island. We went to the heritage center and I looked at the old Celtic knot work artists that learned on this island. Ritchie was the main teacher here for quite a while and was considered to be the bringer of Celtic art into the new millenia. George Bain was his student and learned how to weave knots. There were sketch books of original art works scattered about the table and I picked up one of them. It was one of Ritchie's books. I marveled at how imperfect his line work was in the original pencil sketches. I am so critical of my own work and the way my lines shape as I curve in and out. It was marvelous to see a master artist have mistakes in his pieces...
This caused me to re-think the whole idea of how I wanted to create/construct my book. Originally the idea was to paint landscapes but I have to be honest... I AM NOT A FAN!!! When I began to think about it all I have really wanted to do since we arrived in Ireland and in Scotland is to draw and paint Celtic knot work... As Patrick and I were having coffee at the St. Columba Hotel I asked him, "What do you think about me focusing on the knot work aspect of the book and not the landscape portion?" He really liked the idea... So did I!
Now I am in the kitchen, and decided to work on the very first page of the book where I had this amazing idea of taking sacred geometry and framing the page. Worked beautifully. Then I decided I would take the words "It happened long ago" and "Bhi se ann i bfhad" and mirror them on the page. So that the Irish was on the bottom and mirrored at the same time. Well my eyes decided the spirals were making them angry and I closed my eyes and went silent and still.... I began to think of St. Patrick, St. Brigid and St. Columba. What I saw in my head was St. Patrick at the top of a pyramid or triangle with branches of Columba and Brigid. I opened my eyes and decided to give it a go. The first attempt ended with a voice telling me that is not right. It must be upright, not landscape... So I started over. The compass moved around the paper ticking here, arcing there... Before I knew it there was a beautiful flower of life inscribed in the inner circle with three branched spirals on each tip of the triangle. Beautiful!!! I finished drawing this piece and began painting it. Minutes turned into hours and before I knew it the clock struck 7. About this time we had already eaten some pasta but Ruth kindly offered us some of her veggies and pasta which we thanked her for and sat to eat.
My art stuff was placed on a small table by the window and I had noticed that another family had come in to make dinner as we were eating the pasta so in my head I was thinking OK I am going to finish this and put my painting stuff away - because I am a respecting "Adult" who can take care of those around me along with myself. But before I had the chance to do so, Jo said are you quite finished with your work? The hostel is quite full and the people will be coming in to eat... hmmm.... Condescending tone (Jo) plus an emotional adult (Me) - Not a good mix... Why do we allow these types of people to get under our skin? I know it was because we had already had one altercation with Andrew but seriously???
I smiled politely and respectfully letting her know I was merely allowing it to dry at the moment and was going to promptly put it away. Can I just say however it was not in any ones way... There was still plenty of space for people... She was just being bossy... I do not like bossy nor do I do good with bossy people.. I tend to tuck my tail between my legs and cry somewhere while cursing them under my breath. I do not think I would have been so upset if it had not been for Martha...
Ah yes, Martha is a little girl from North Wales. I believe she is 6 or so and she has a little sister named Anna. Martha was watching me paint my art. I asked her if she liked to paint and of course she did. She loves flowers she told me. I took my fairy picture out of the folder it was in and I told her that the fairy had not told me her name. I asked Martha if she could ask the fairy what her name was... She said, "What's your name? It's Lily!" Just like that... :-) I thanked her and gifted her a flower card I made in Slane. She was very happy to have it. Then I said, well perhaps after dinner we could paint together. She was so excited to paint with me!!! So I threw my pity party and decided to heck with Jo I was going to go back in there and I was going to paint with Martha and her little sister. I walked into the kitchen and said as soon as you have had your dinner I will come back in and we can paint OK? Her eyes got so big and my heart melted!!! There was so much joy in my own heart... I continued to pack my belongings for the shifting of places tomorrow and soon heard pitter pattering foot-steps outside our room door... Martha was excited to paint and was pacing out in front of our door... We made postcards with hearts and Anna made a dragon!!!  I left for my room with joy and laughter ringing through my ears. In retrospect, I hope and send my thoughts that this hostel will have joy once again... Martha's parents were here eight years prior on their honeymoon and Jonathon had asked Patrick, "Doesn't anyone play instruments here anymore or sing at night? When were here eight years ago people were laughing and making merry." I really intend they can find this once again... The hostel is lacking a "human" element that they so badly need to regain.
I have enjoyed the people I have met here... The people that are traveling through seem to be leaving huge imprints on my soul and being and I am loving every moment I am sharing with them. I am sad to be leaving the souls that are walking here but I also feel a renewed strength to be in our space without the intrusion of foreign energy that is neither wanted nor invited...
Tomorrow begins a new adventure on the Isle of Iona... One of faith, trust and determination... :-)