to another place

 

Oliver Deme

This summer, we are not headed to the green,cool mountains.For many reasons, we are staying home in the oppressive ,glaring heat that is the only thing that I don't like about Georgia.Facing these two months of prison in my air conditioned home,(I know,how whiny) I resolved to do a few things to ease the pain of being cut off from my natural world of tree,river,and bird.

I am cleaning out closets,writing when I have nothing much to say(thus,this)and connecting with a few new-comers to the Catholic Church.

I must say that the cleaning is almost a spiritual activity.Those neat shelves,with a few empty spaces.Amazing what I don't need.And how pleasing to open a closet and be able to put my hand right on something.Order.Even the word pleases.I can now find those pair of black flats that go with anything ,even in summer.

While getting rid of some books, which is the most wrenching thing to do,I came across one that I hadn't looked at in awhile:"An Irish Moment".Almost,I let it go until I came to a page with Antrim at the top and some quotes that have cooled my brow and brightened my day.

An old monk is leaning over a plain old wooden desk with ink pen in his shaky, knarled hand.The wind is whipping the white caps at the bottom of the cliff and on this night,he is thanking God for the weather.He writes:

"Fierce and wild is the wind tonight,
It tosses the tresses of the sea to white;
On such a night as this I take my ease;
Fierce Norsemen only course the quiet seas."

So this holy man ,hanging off a rock somewhere in long forgotten times in Ireland, is writing more beautifully than I ever could about loving the weather he is given because maybe, this night ,the Vikings won't attack.

I thought I had gotten over Ireland with our '96 visit there.I see I am as besotted as ever with these :
monks,their Book of Kells and lovely writing.Here's another:

"My hand is weary with writing,my sharp quill is not steady,my slender,beaked pen juts forth a black draught of shining,dark blue ink, a stream of the wisdom of Blessed God."

The book stays and the whining stops.