I come to you, not in binding, but in stone. I come to you, not wet with ink, but with sea. I come to you, not in thoughts of men, but in the Very Earth of which they were made. I come to you, not in the words of elders, but in the ways of the wing’d, the root’d, the Wise Eternal. I come to you in the poem that is your own pumping blood. I come to you~ The Shepherdess Who will lead you home.
It's hard for me to believe that it's been 17 years since I visited the sacred isle of Iona, part of the Inner Hebrides, off the Western Coast of Scotland. Known as a "Thin Place" in the vernacular of the Celts, it seems impervious to the laws of time and space. In my heart I was there just a moment ago, and if I so desire, on the wings of my next breath I will be there again a mere moment from now...ah, there!...I have just returned once again! I would like to share with you a journal entry from 2013. Written on the 9th of June; the Feast of St. Columba of Iona, 5 years after my pilgrimage. When I found these words and read through them yesterday, it struck me how fresh they feel. I moved a little over a week ago to a place totally unfamiliar to me; a lush, green place embraced by mountains and kissed with lakes, that was settled by people from the Celtic lands. I can imagine those people feeling very much at home in the landscape, and having a natural affinity with the indigenous peoples and practices of this land. I feel lost and found here all at once, and so these words written 12 years ago ring clear and true in my heart today. Thank you for reading and for bearing witness to my ongoing pilgrimage of body and soul. ~ Feast of St. Columba 2013. The ninth day of June is the celebration of the Feast of St. Columba of Iona. Five years ago on that date I had the amazing experience of standing with my face to the wind and the sea on a rocky hill overlooking St. Columba’s Bay on the Isle of Iona off the western coast of Scotland. Though the experience was staggeringly beautiful and moving in many ways, as time has passed I realize it wasn’t quite what I expected or hoped for, though in some ways it has all come to mean far more to me than I could have imagined or understood then. I thought I would find healing on the shores of Iona; profound, life-altering healing. In the months leading up to my pilgrimage I imagined myself standing on the shore, bellowing some primal cry of release of all the pain I had carried up to that moment. I would be delivered, healed; made new in that Holy Place. No such dramatic moment came. There were powerful moments of Presence and a sense of leaving behind all unnecessary words and images, symbols and idols. God was there in the elements; in earth, sky, and sea; in my own breath and pulse and passionate awareness of the wild and majestic beauty all around me. It all came down to Life and Love; the Blessed Essentiality of Being; the wonder of being a tiny part of such a vast and intricate design. It was humbling and ecstatically invigorating and inspiring all at once.But still I returned home a wounded woman. Though I prayed about the more challenging issues and relationships in my life at the time, there were no miraculous breakthroughs, no great relief, no instantaneous healing or freedom. Although I felt I had left quite a lot behind on the island, I wasn’t sure, beyond a few shells and pieces of marble, just what I took away with me. But the seeds of healing and change can be tiny, almost imperceptible things; like grains of sand that work their way deep into the pockets of our hearts. We may not consciously choose them and pick them up, and we may not find them…till five years later…(or 17 years later!) or whenever Holy Wisdom decides it is time for those prayers for healing and transformation to be answered. I stand on a new shore today, feeling as uncertain of my destination as St. Columba must have felt in his self-imposed exile from his beloved Ireland. I have reached deep in the pockets of my heart in recent years and have found precious grains of sand from that small, holy western isle. I am haunted by the Holy Ghost’s whisperings as I sat in a corner on the cold floor in the Abbey Sanctuary. Her whisperings of Love and Truth, of Healing and a Home that awaits. St. Columba’s Day, five years later, and my pilgrimage has just begun. ~ The poem shared above was written while sitting in that corner on the cold Abbey floor. The warmest of memories I carry with me always. Deep Peace and Gentle Blessings to All, ~Cheryl Anne
How marvellous that you got to go to Iona, Cheryl Anne! A special place, indeed, that some of my family have encountered and experienced. Its sacredness has lingered long in your memories and soul, seeding the blessings to come. I love the poem and journey entry. They touched my heart like a whisper of hope. Thank you for sharing them. Bless you, my friend.