26/01/2026
Here we sit, our little clan.
We are held in this space, a chipboard embrace, with a door that meows and whistling, rattling panes. Gradually our clutter arrives, pillows, books, pens and mugs, as we break the ‘being serious’ rule, and nest together.
We are moored here, suspended above Dundalk Bay. Slieve Foye, dressed in the mists, offers no succour against southerly winds.
We are held aloft, threatening to untether. Without these good walls we’d dissipate...not ashes to ashes but air to air….or maybe light to light?
Not of the spectrum we know, but the light of eyes as souls align.
We walk, circling, slowly stirring a vortex of love, inexorably spiralling out to embrace the earth.
Imagine that, visible from space, our shining pinwheel.
We thrill to the touch of sunlight, regarded by the "rosaries of sheep"*. A raven held us in court and judged us – what? Acceptable? Permit to remain at least.
And there’s Rusty, who we love.
In movement we huffed and puffed and blew ourselves through, and down,
and moved and loved and opened ourselves up,
nothing and everything, all is possible.
The wind in the tree outside our window rises above a susurration.
Listen. It’s like distant applause. Or the sea.
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Thank you Carlingford Yoga for giving us the use of your space for the most wonderful meditation retreat. Full heart, soft mind. Ready to get back to teaching again 😊
*Thanks for this phrase Mary O'Rawe!