Skellig Michael

Atop this flat, sloping rock – high above the rippled water, the puffins my only companions, their little bodies and stumpy wings whooshing past on the Atlantic winds. I understand the monks – surely they must have found the most profound beauty, love, understanding, insight … and most of all, longing, in this place. The longing every human has in his or her heart – longing for be-longing. To belong means to be longing. Belonging is found when we recognise and cherish our longing. This is the most beautiful, moving place I have ever been. And the little, cheeky puffins know it! Launch forth, little friends, into the wide blue – glide and sail your ungainly way through this great, beauteous universe of sighs, until you reach that final shore, that final golden shore – Tìr nan Òg! For I too can fly – I too can soar on the lofty breezes, I too can see the wide world beneath me, lying, silent and smiling.