The wind has almost died down. Up in the mountains I got to understand what it means to be a cow. Flies crawl into nose and eyes. Better don't stop walking. But that's not why I'm here. It's July and the Burren is teeming with flowers. A funny bumblebee comes across, bright yellow, a feast for my eyes in between all these winged black nuisances.
Far away from all tourist attractions, touring bussing and five-minute-Burren-visitors I am totally on my own up here. Silence. Crickets start chirping when I keep standing still. Today the sun is very generous to us beings on earth. But my nose already got its share.
In a distance, dark holes in the karstic rock keep attracting my attention. Could that at last be 'my' cave? I set out to have a look, climbing deeper and deeper into a world of fissures and hollow spaces, a world of sound not to be compared. Structured by water, now almost every gap a home for silent beauty. Bloody Cranesbill brightens up my path. A huge gap gives shelter to an unexpected big fern, obviously using the absence of wind to grow as high as its genes allow. Butterflies dancing, enjoying the abundance of sweets.
Responding to the remote lure I find my way across stone panel, perfect as a sunbed or a drawing board and sharp rocks, sometimes loose when expected to hold my weight. Traps hidden by Hazelwood or Burnet Rose seem only to wait for their chance to break my ankle. Full attention here! One false step and I would be laying in the middle of Herewhere, lost for days until found by someone. A phase of adrenalin now and then, but everything goes right.
Here and Now everything is God, beautiful, love in its fullest expression, a gift and I am thankfully devoting myself. Feel one with all there is.
Suddenly impenetrably growing Hawthorn and Hazelwood stop me. There seems to be no way of getting through. In my mind it scratches my skin, stings, tears my clothes into pieces. I see myself stuck in a torturing surrounding. It would not be the first time that these pictures, intuitive caution keep me from going on. Better be on the safe side. But this time I take the other end of the rope. I dare the first steps into the shrubs, the cleft ground almost gone for my eyes, I tumble, push branches and twigs with hands and feet.
It goes down although the roof of leaves promised leveled ground. And further down. I arch my back, walk on all fours, already under the crowns of hazel until I can stand upright embraced by ferns and mosses and sparse flowers. I hold my breath. This is a different world. A world of twilight and humidity but I do not feel threatened, rather safe. Hidden from any spectators I move forward through smooth trunks, following the traces of animals. I feel an enormous happiness. I did indeed overcome the fear to enter the unknown, I did free myself of these dark and impeding pictures which opened a door to another wonderful world.