Lughnasadh Revelations

On this day we walked to St. Columbus Bay and stood among the cairns reveling in the sea and rock. The wind was slight and the place was void of all but Jill and I. It made for quite the scene in which one could contemplate the world around them and that is exactly what we did. It also brought up decades old issues and resolutions that I had patiently worked through because I had the love of a fantastic partner in life.

When we returned to the B&B we both laid down for a brief nap. It was during this time images and scenes of my past crept into my mind reminding me of the darker place I had came from. I was not always so positive or hopeful like I am today; instead I was filled with anger, hate and discourse. I was lost in a world I thought would rather loose me, instead, as I later realized, it was always welcoming and waiting.

This revelation would not come to me at my younger years; instead it tempered me with lessons disguised in horrid experiences that would later reveal their truths through talking to a gentleman by the name of Gabriel Quincy Collymore. Sometimes one must walk in the darkness in order to gain the strength to prevent such madness to happen again.

It is not something I am proud of but in my days away from home I wandered the streets of Colorado Springs not knowing where I would end up. I saw some pretty horrible stuff, including an old man who was beaten by a group of teens simply because he walked on their “side” of the road. I idly sat by as this happened and did nothing, feeling the guilt of this action for decades, but I silently swore to God I would never do that again.

Years later I would be doing a midnight shift at a Circle K on Austin Bluffs Parkway and Oro Blanco when a group of teens attacked a customer. A friend had stopped by and as I ran past I told him not to let anyone leave. I opened the doors in time to witness this mob stomping on the customers head and drew my arm back as I charged the crowd. At that instant a county sheriff saw the group and pulled into the lot, but it was too late as the damage was done and the man lay in his own pool of blood.

They had to call the fire department to spray down the wall of all the blood and I myself who had helped the man up to keep him from drowning in his own blood had to wash my arms in bleach to prevent any sort of blood contamination. Even more years later while working at a Texaco I witnessed a man who had pulled in to get gas punch his wife in the face. I turned to my co-worker during the early morning shift and told him to call the police while I grabbed a mop and snapped off the fabric to make a club.

In the end she went inside as I held the man at bay and the cops arrived. I pressed charges but would later find out that she had dropped them and all was back to normal for the two. These senseless acts creep into my mind periodically to remind me of how life is so precious.

I lost my job at Circle K because I would not testify on behalf of the company; instead I stood with the poor man who could have been safe had my manager replaced the exterior lights weeks earlier. I lost my job at Texaco because I refused to drop the charges against the man who beat his wife and I began to develop an anger towards corporations who would rather sell out people than admit to things they could have done to better protect them and our environment.

I was angry at the world around me for not being able to recognize I could be an asset but created obstacles I had no idea how to overcome. I was angry at my family for failing to realize I did not even have a clue as to how to proceed in life with what I was born with. I was angry at the military for sending me home without ever trying me as a soldier simply because I had only one trigger finger, but what I did not realize is that the universe had different plans for me then, I just did not understand what they were.

It is incredible the kinds of people you meet along journeys around the world. Spiritual, kind and angelic beings who at the right time step into your life to reinforce the path one takes.

Interesting Bedfellows

The last few days have been very interesting but not in the sort of way one would think. You would think that coming to the Holy Isle one would find open minds and arms, but I found instead a deep divide in spiritual thought. What should have been a glorious week has been a somewhat minor disappointment. I can only chalk it up as one of those humbling times and equate it to what Saint Columba must have felt.

The Iona Hostel was indeed a technology free zone, so much that when I attempted to use my laptop on the second day to work on photographs I was reprimanded in front of other people about a “strict” policy about no computers in the kitchen or seating area. I was very much taken aback and floored. I had thought from reading their website that is was a place where internet and cable television, or television at all, we void of which I was okay.

Perhaps what truly struck me as unreasonable was the fact that nowhere was it posted, either facility or web site, of this fact and when I was told I could sit on my bunk and use it in my dorm room. I promptly packed up my laptop and Jill and I ventured into town to find a new place to stay. Unfortunately we would have to wait two days before that would happen.

We made the arrangements and went back to the hostel to inform them we would be leaving two days early and would like our money for those days. Then they told us we would have to wait until they filled the beds, as they plan a week ahead, and that if they could not fill them we would not get one. We said fine and went to our rooms and sort of sat there wondering why there were no postings and why they had to reprimand me in front of other house guests. I personally felt they had misrepresented their hostel on their website and did not feel it was right; nor did our dorm mates.

What became a hassle was ironed out, or so we thought, and we were offered a day where we could use them. Things looked brighter until the evening when Jill was painting. She had begun a project and was sitting at a much smaller table, there were two including a rather large table, and when dinner time came around was told she needed to put her project up. Again this was done in front of everyone with much the same arrogant attitude as my situation. Now it wasn’t only laptops but our projects as well, even though we were at a smaller table that sat only four.

I can understand they may have needed to use the table, and I can understand them needing to tell us, but was it necessary to do it in a manner that belittled us? I can only chalk it up as a social difference.

What I do not understand is in a place so filled with other people from all over the world why some sort of discreetness cannot be adopted. It seems so silly to have gotten upset over but when we are here for our college doing projects and work; it is simply not conducive for us to not be able to work. I am very happy we are heading over to a Bed and Breakfast tomorrow where at least I will be able to process pictures and do some of my portfolio work.

The silver lining was our bunk mates. The diverse group of people we shared a room with would include persons from Holland, Australia, the United Kingdom and Scotland. Our individual personalities meshed together in a way that was both joyful and uplifting. In the end it will be them I remember, along with the beauty of Iona, and I will walk away with a new insight to these various places and the people who live there.

So in the end I am chalking it up as a lesson of humility, being on the Holy Isle, and moving forward while noting where I will stay at in the future. I will come back to Iona, I found my spirit on Dun I, but I will not be coming back to the Iona Hostel, instead I will locate a place that is much more conducive to what my needs are.

I Wonder, I Wander

I wonder long,
I wander far,
To find an answer,
To the world at large.

As I wonder,
About the loss of faith,
I wander further,
Seeking answers galore.

But as I wonder,
At the loss of faith,
I wander to places,
Of a different space.

It is in these wanderings,
That I find my thoughts,
Of when the church,
May have lost its’ soul.

Then I wonder,
Why it was so,
Had they lost it,
During those dark times.

So I wander further,
Trying to make sense,
How something so lovely,
Had lost its’ soul.

And still I wander,
While I quietly wonder,
How money became an idol,
For something so lovely.

And as I wondered,
While I was wandering,
Down these foreign roads,
How they lost their soul.

Then I wandered,
Up a steep hill,
And sat upon a stone,
While I pondered so.

As I gazed across the land,
While the ocean flowed,
The silent thoughts,
Were keeping me company.

It was then I wondered,
If the church would know,
That the soul is worth more,
Then a few pieces of gold.

So I wondered long,
And I wandered further,
That’s where I found my soul,
On a distant shore.

- P.M.Sattler
- July 30, 2011

Sunrise Blessings

I awoke very early on the first morning on Iona to a wonderful rising sun. The clouds splattered across the sky with the horizon holding off the darker ones. I stood outside and had my morning smoke as I pondered the forces that created this tiny isle that I heard you can circumvent in just a few hours. How majestic they must have been.

How does one even begin to think of crossing a vast ocean in just a tiny craft as St. Columba must have done? To me it is just unfathomable.

I moved about the dorm room in a silence I had hoped would not disturb the others. I gathered my things to step out into the waking day and I hummed a tune not known in my mind. Yet I sit here typing on a piece of plastic and metal that did not exist even 30 years ago. Unreal to imagine what it would have been like without it and penning it all down with a quill or pen on a piece of paper or parchment. Then I remembered the illuminated pieces and I can hardly imagine making the dyes, or colors, and taking countless hours to paint the books they once produced.

What a marvelous sight just outside my window. The colors stretching across the sky like a painters canvas and I cannot help but feel the presence of the universe in such a small place. I have never questioned God, or His existence, but I have often wondered if He had forsaken us, but it is during times like this when I am reaffirmed of some greater power that lies behind the creation of a place so beautiful as the one I am currently at.

I stayed up late taking pictures of the dusk that enveloped the land and awoke early in the morning to capture some of the dawning colors. How wonderful it is to be able to witness such moments of the day when you are in a liminal state. I feel very liminal here – in the world but apart from it.

Unknown Sanctuaries

Tomorrow we head out to the Isle of Iona, the Holy Isle, and set foot upon the land that St. Columba stepped upon after his leaving from Ireland. I must say I am excited and nervous about going to such a remote place though I have heard that many other spiritualists make pilgrimages there. We should be in good company and the events over the last few days seem to point towards a blessed time.

Just before we left Edinburgh Scotland we participated in a Sunday morning mass at St. Cuthbert’s church and received blessings by the acting bishop. Today we endured some pain for a tattoo symbolizing our eternal love for each other, and just a little over a week ago we ourselves left the green shores of our second home Ireland. Along the way we have been blessed with friends and confronted past issues, while walking away from those who would rather belittle rather than befriend us; I would say we have been prepared but can you ever be fully ready?

It is going to be an awesome experience and one most likely without some of the more modern conveniences, though we won’t know that until we get there, and I am actually looking forward to it. We have shopped for main staple items, done our laundry, and even informed loved ones of our temporary departure from the world.

Many people we have come across, during our brief discussions, have told us how beautiful and spiritual the place is and I look forward to what may happen upon that Holy Isle. I will walk upon her shores with no expectations but with wide open eyes so that I may see her in her full glory. I would say that afterwards I would be a changed person but that would be exactly what I do not want – an expectation, so I shall just go forth.

I keep thinking of St. Columba and wondering what must have been going through his mind. What thoughts he had, reservations, and what sort of hardships did he endured. I know whatever I experience will not be comparable to his time but in comparison to the time it will be just as reclusive. I do know this – whatever happens it will be on an island with a long history and beautiful scenery just as everyone thus far has explained.

I am just too damn excited!

Blessings and Spirit

The last few days in Edinburgh have been very enjoyable and revealing. Over the course of the last three days we have witnessed horrid tales of early Edinburgh, the Haunted Vaults, and witnessed local drunks harassing a young girl. The act of exile has been harder than I would have imagined and this new land has dark corners mixed in with bright souls. It can cause one to wonder if the Scots themselves suffer from a sort of schizophrenic nature brought on by the subjugation of English rule.

With the vast diversity of international people mingling with the locals it seems to create an atmosphere rip for fights, robbery and downright abuse. Had Jill and I not gotten into an argument a young girl may have been accosted by a drunkard who had solicited her for sexual needs. She was 11 and very frightened, asking us what bus we were going to take. When we told her she spoke of how that was before hers and she would be along on the streets, her grandma too drunk to accompany her to the bust stop, so we opted to take a later bus.

I kept my eye on the drunks and kept my body between her and the fellows, feeling if they saw me it would deter them from any action. Before we knew it, others showed up and one gentleman even threw fruit at the drunks to chase them off. It would seem a few angels were among us. After she got on her bus and was safely gone, we boarded ours and a poor baby was very disgruntled and crying. I couldn’t help but react and played peek-a-boo with the wee waif. In no time at all she was smiling and giggling, which brought joy to all around her, and I felt happy at being given the chance to interact with a being who did not judge me by words but action. She was so adorable.

The next few days were filled with history lessons, of the haunted variety, and optical illusions from cameras and lights. In-between these excursions we visited the Scottish art museum, the National Gallery, and went to mass at an Irish church of St. Cuthbert. The bishop came over and spoke with us a few moments, commenting on how he liked Seattle but didn’t know much about it, and welcomed us to his congregation. At the end of the service he blessed us for our journey ahead. I feel as if I am now ready to step forward on the rest of this leg of the journey.

I can only imagine at how St. Colm Cille must have felt as he left the green shores of Ireland for the isolated isle of Iona.

Sojourn into Exile

So we left Dublin behind, on the tips of the waves, and we journeyed towards a new foreign land. I am quiet as I sat there remembering what a friend told me about our landing spot – Hollyhead. According to him it was the last place the British Druids made their final stand before falling to the Romans. Three times the Romans tried to take it and three times they were thwarted. Many years ago I had written a poem called “The Battle of Na Morna” where I describe such a stand; I shall have to fish it out when I return to the states.

Then I began thinking about the famine ships, the ones which brought so many Irish to America during those hard times and I wonder what they would have done to have the accommodations we had experienced. What it must have been like to stand for hours at a time with no place to relieve themselves, or to get something to eat. Just an hour earlier, on this vessel, we had a big breakfast and I wondered how long some of the Irish endured empty stomachs on their dark journey.

In a weird sort of way I feel as if I am going to another place that will feel like home, given the history, and how I will experience the run of emotions there. Although we are only there for a very brief time, I am excited. I cannot express the excitement of this part of the journey, going to a place I have yet to visit, and seeing the new sites and places. It feels very much like the first time we went to Ireland.

As I gazed across the vast stretch of the Irish Sea I saw no land. It is incredible when one looks at a map and thinks how small a distance it is, and yet the reality is the exact opposite. The waves were low and it caused me to ponder how different it must have been to sail before modern times. I remember studying how the Irish used these skin covered boats, currachs, and would cross more in the north where the distance between the isles was only a mere 12 miles. It must have been a dubious task to navigate across such an expanse.

Upon landing in Hollyhead we boarded the train right away. As quick as we landed we were whisked away from Wales and heading towards Edinburgh. Three stops and we would be at our destination. But before we made it I had a run-in with a very drunk Brit who had been listening to a conversation I was having with a bloke who was Scottish.

He and I were discussing how smokers had been pushed out of the pubs, along with restaurants, and yet they extorted a huge tax from us for their greedy endeavors. The Brit decided he would chim in and yell at me, moving towards me and into my face and shout, “Damn Americans think they can push their way into every place in the world. You Americans don’t rule the world and can’t push into England!” I was taken aback and tried to reassure the man that it was not what I was saying and that a misunderstanding had taken place. At this point the Scottish bloke moved away and looked at the ground, disengaging completely even though he knew that was not what I had said. I ended the confrontation by simply walking away as the Brit yelled at me, “Welcome to England!”

It stole my mood, took my energy and left me wondering not just about the hidden fury the Brits may have, but as to why the Scottish bloke did not even stand up for someone who had not said any of that. I was very quiet the rest of the journey to Edinburgh and I began to watch every little word I spoke. Then I remembered I was no longer in the land I call my second home and that hospitality held no place where we now were.

It made me ponder what other Irish experienced along their Green Martyrdom, or exile, and what sorts of conflict may have arisen for them as a result. Then we checked into our hotel and were greeted by one of the most cheerful people we had yet to meet, Charlene, and she helped to ease my already nerve by offering us complimentary drinks. Then she went out of her way to make sure we could get around Edinburgh and were able to see some of the sites it had to offer. My day had started out horrible but ended on a great note.

But I still ponder the very question of why.