Thursday, January 19, 2012

glendalough and resting in St. Kevin's Cell

I packed the van with food, clothing and logs for the wood burner.
i set off saying good-bye to the twin i was out of it, away with the fairies, away from what we know as civilization.
for very good reason, i have bunked out twenty five miles and more, far away on the top of another mountain.

I am bunked out on this here mountain because the stresses of life and turgid struggle with our bloody recessionary ways, not mine, mind you, my Gov.  The Gov who decided that all who are disabled, sick and vulnerable should pay for the bankruptcy of Holy Ireland.
So, I have come to the holiest of holy places, and for my sins have decamped in St. Kevin's Cell.
Not, no, the original but the imitation.
I am in a cell, but it has all the mod cons.
Here is the electricity, warmth and cleanliness and 21st century appliances though basic.

But it would not have been basic in our Kev's time!
Kev tramped the land in leather thonged footware, to hack himself half way up the cliff face, to grovel inward a hole for himself to pray and stay.
Well, he was praying for the lost souls, of our nation - then.
I am in his imitation and have no intention of praying for the lost nation of whatsit called our holy ireland full of saints and scholars, as is our Kev revered like none other!
I am here to save my own soul but more importantly my sanity.
The by product may be a spiritual awakening and yes, i possibly had one not a few tramped feet upon the soil of this holy place called Glendalough.
It would be unusual not to be tainted by the beauty.
You are rightly fucked if you are not, i have to say.
You are brain dead and a hopeless case if you cannot drink of this cup of beauty in it bountifulness.
you would be classified, if you could not.
It was wonderful to be back.
Yes, i have run away 'oh human child, to the waters and the wild, for the world too full of weeping for you to understand.'  er, Yeats not quite verbatim, but Yeats agreed, this is a poxy life and i don't understand it, dear poor idle child that I am.
Not worldly by half.
i am into this nature thing in a big way.
I love it.
Now the spiritual bit hits blast full in the face once you step the Dunnes Stores best boots on the land underfoot.
It is heavenly.
The gorse is out full blaze.
The primroses are waning having reminded us that hope is within the land, and when one sees a primrose you can be sure that a turn is in the ways of the world  - yes, weather wise, and not much else, poor primrose, ever hopeful.
I bet it was shockingly mad that it didn't have to sleep much over winter, for the weather too is off kilter very much.
but none the less, it did strut its stuff and in a very hopeful way for all to see.
As in the Gov and no praying for the Gov. i am saving my sanity and nothing more, nothing less.
Who in Holy God's name did i meet first?
Yep, you are right.  The Priest.
I met him before too, and no, i do not know what his name is and least care.
He wore a strange straw hat, way too small and looked well nourished, certainly not in imitation of the original Kev who clammered around the muck to find a hole to bury himself in and pray.
No, not like our Kev at all.
He, the priest that is, bounced on and out, in his car, well fed with the funny hat, ridiculous hat, actually.
i moved up to the cell, i have sliddered down a bit since last time, for i am given the lower cell, the higher cell nearer God, on the top, was too on the top so i had to lower my sights and expectations for the feet you see, are not as good as they were and they are pretty much not up to the job of cranking up the side of the mountain.  Not even if its least like what the original would have done.
Nothing like it.
The nun, yep you have guessed.  I don't know her name either.  She showed me the Cillin and yes, i had met her before.
she favours red, last time and this, and red lipstick, yes i kid you not, very red lipstick.
she helped me with the bag of wood, the nourishment in their plastic wrapping in the plastic storage box.
not the leather thonged backpack of our Kev.
I rest some...after being shown the basics of turning on the hot water system and i then let her go on her way and i settled down.
I look at the emails...omg monk fashion!
I then go to touch the nature and have a wee word with it.
Not pray.  Just feel the goodness that is there that is not in a human figure upon this mountain, (but the priest).  But he had gone out to do priestly stuff, not sit around praying for the state of the nation.
that would seem a bit tribal.
-It is gorgeous.
Not the priest oh no, the place.
you do sense the God in it.
You absolutely do, without a question.
What never fails to defeat me is, when we can stiff and collide with what God has created, how can we collide so very badly with each other?
How can we so badly get it wrong and cause such grief to the stompers on my land?
the stompers being the ones bailing out the banks and shoring up a sinking ship, this holy country of ours.
The evil country and the petty government who tells us we are bankrupt for god's sake, we cannot afford to help the sick, the elderly and the disabled.  We are bankrupt, so say's our minister for Health Dr. whatsit no less.
Yes, we are down and out Doctor, but we didn't do it.
We didn't.
So would you kindly leave me and others alone and go fight the bigger fish in this oil infested water of ours, not to mention the radioactive infested waters of ours too.
Certainly not St. Kev's style that either.
Maybe the Minister for Health should shack up with the Priest not a hundred yards from me and start praying for the nation like they never did before.
and pray for themselves, the deluded.
Next election you are out on your arse.
forgotten, detris.  Like the delude Ms. Harney no less.
Lets hope that the next generation will get it right.
Can the recession turn the younger brigade into the kinder brigade?
Well, since my experience and that of commentators of the younger brigade is not looking hopeful maybe we should skip a decade and depend on the next.
By that time i am offa the mountain here and with the maker above, if there is one.
I half suspect there might be, but half too, suspect there isn't.
I guess if i keep it like that i cannot lose.
So i captured this mountain today, and supped tea and captured it again.
I loved it.
I love it here.
No human within sniffing distance, (apart from the priest).
No bloody politics, no men, no pious men telling the sick and elderly and disabled 'For God's sake we are fecking eggits, stop protesting."
Its like poppins land this.
they are coming to get ya!  War has been declared, run the mountain my friends and find a better way and a better place.
i have, for five measly days and then i am back with the rats, race.

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