It would appear I have arrived at the ancient Isle of Inis Oirr. It’s taken three days to get here due to one storm touching the hem of another. There’s something of the vision-fast about being here. I always notice it when the quality of silence changes around me and surely it has. Not all silence is the same. I may not be fasting on food so much, but certainly people, chat, bustle. Now the silence is distinctly more robust, friendlier, respected. Respected silence, friendly silence. I like that notion, and am experiencing it. A silence grows shapelier when you make room for it. More soon on all of this. I don’t have wifi, so forgive me if I’m quieter than usual with the comments - I will get to read them, and chime in if I can, but I’m not sure when.
Morning dip on the island
Two stories today, The Shepherd of Myddvai and The Green Ladies of One Tree Hill, both can be found in Folk Tales of the British Isles, which is illustrated by a distant cousin of mine, the great painter Ken Kiff. (Do listen to the audio of the stories below before reading on.)