Retreating to Iona

On Iona it is about 20 minutes past midnight. The evening session of Angela's writing retreat ends about 9:30. So, if I were there, I would be tucked in my cozy room reading or journaling or just happily remembering the day. From this side of the pond I wonder who is attending this year. There were so many amazing people there and I know I'm missing some of the wonderful writing they will be sharing. But I am there in spirit and this year that will have to be enough. Knowing that I will be there in 2012 helping organize a retreat with Beth Lodge-Rigal gets me through this nostalgic time of year.

This year Angela is celebrating her tenth retreat on Iona and I know she had some special things planned. I can't wait to hear about them. It never really gets dark in Scotland in the summer time so nighttime sojourns are quite easy and magical. Last year on our last night there, we went to the nunnery ruins and ready poetry by candlelight and shared a wee dram to warm us. It was magical.

And yes, Iona is a magical place and those who are attuned to that sort of thing have powerful experiences there. But Iona has lessons for us all. My lesson is awareness, awareness of my surroundings wherever I am. Appreciate them. Get the most out of them. Enjoy and learn from the past, but live in the moment. Some days I forget that and Iona taps me on the shoulder and says, "Look around you. Look at all the faces of the people you love, look at your beautiful little town of Bloomington, look at the words of others on the written page." Iona wants to remind me that she will always be there waiting to embrace me and welcome me to her warm shores and that is a comfort on this cool Indiana night.

Bifurcated

I'm not prone to melancholy as a general rule. It does sneak up on me occasionally and it's always this time of year, the time of year (if I were going to Scotland) that I'd be preparing for that journey. And, for me, it is a journey, not a trip. A journey that "eases my soul" to quote one of my favorite poets and my spiritual guide, Van Morrison.



I love Bloomington and my life here. My son is here, I have an amazing group of friends and a wonderful writing community. Yet, I long to be in Scotland. It takes a lot of energy to want to be in two places at the same time. So this is the time of year that I become very melancholy and lethargic. The past few weeks I've been doing my uncanny imitation of oatmeal. I've been a lump on the couch that doesn't move. I haven't been doing much writing, which makes me even sadder. And I've learned that being sad takes a lot of energy, what with all the sighing and such.



A couple of Sundays ago I made myself get up off the couch and go to Border's and write. (Thanks Angi MacDonald for meeting me there.) I decided to address this situation head-on. The way for me to do that is to write and the best place to address this particular issue is my blog. I've ignored this blog way too long. It's time to get back on this horse and ride.



This time last year, I was preparing for that journey. Preparing for a writing retreat on Iona. I love the ritual of preparation. I love organizing, putting mix and match outfits together, choosing and packing well so that I can travel light.



Once I had my reservation confirmed for the retreat then I started the fun (for me) part of planning out my various modes of transportation once I landed in Glasgow. Planes, trains, buses and ferries. All carefully timed and coordinated.

The retreat was all and more than I had imagined it would be. I felt very welcomed and supported by these educated, amazingly talented writers. And Angela Locke, who facilitates the retreat, felt like a kindred spirit to me immediately. She's a wonderful teacher/guide. And so is David Clemson, her co-facilitator. What better combination than a mathematician/poet? I wrote a couple of magical realism stories that were well-received. I'm still carried by my time at the retreat.

Last week at my Women Writing for a Change class I wrote to the prompt: If you saw me walking... Of course, my walking takes place in Scotland. I'm still working on it and will post it on this blog when it's ready. So I'm writing again. I won't say the clouds are lifting, because I like clouds and stormy skies, which is probably why I like Scotland so much. But the heaviness of heart is lifting so that I have the energy to write again.

The photos below are views from Tigh na Mara Guest House.

Island Ghosts

I've been back six weeks and am still processing all that happened to me. Many ghosts were laid to rest. Most powerfully, the Ghosts of Negativity that have haunted me since my last trip there in 2000 with my mother and Tom my second and now ex-husband. I didn't want to be there with the two of them. Mother who was being a pill (putting it mildly) and Tom who I knew I wanted out of my life. Tom is a very sweet Englishman whom I worked with in the Isle of Mull Hotel. He was the barman. We had a bit of a fling my second summer there. Later that year he came over to the states for a visit and stayed. We were married on New Year's Eve 1996. I married him for a lot of reasons, none of them healthy ones. The bottom line was that his drinking was a deal breaker. Lesson learned. No more alcoholics. Done.

My trip this time, nine years later, was so positive that all of my original wonderful feelings about Scotland re-surfaced. I spent the first two days in Oban, my old stomping grounds. Thoroughly enjoying exploring what was still there and what was new. All my stress was receding and Scotland was working its magic. On my third morning in Oban I caught the 8:00 a.m. ferry for the three hour journey to the Isle of Coll. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't good, so it wasn't a scenic trip. However, I was able to see the Lismore Lighthouse and Duart Castle. We sailed north and west past Tobermory and out into the open ocean. When the ferry landed at Coll, it was pouring down rain. Fortunately, an island taxi van was picking people up from the ferry. I hitched a ride and was told they were going on an island tour. Perfect. I went along and had a terrific tour of Coll. My B&B, the Tigh na Mara, was excellent. Located close to the village of Arinagour I was able to walk to the Isle of Coll Hotel for excellent evening meals. While there I had one whole glorious day all to myself in the lounge of the B&B and spent the whole day writing and looking out at the amazing sea view and watching the spring lambs frolic. The hostess of Tigh na Mara was a lovely lady originally from Lancashire. She is very welcoming and warm. James, her assistant and handyman, and Englishman from Middlesborough was very entertaining. So after three luxurious days on Coll, it was time to return to Oban and get another ferry to the Isle of Mull. I had a little time in Oban where it was raining like it can only rain in Scotland. I was able to run the errands I needed to run and have a nice lunch before getting on the ferry. That trip to Craignure on the Isle of Mull is like going home. It's a fifty minute trip. Still raining. I caught the bus for Fionnphort and it was full. It's still pouring down rain and it was like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. It's a one lane road with lay bys, which means you have places to pull over for oncoming traffic or sheep. The driver would speed up to the lay by and them slam the breaks on. We were bouncing all over the place. At last, we arrived in Fionnphort and I may my wet way to the Seaview B & B. Just a very short walk. I would spend the night there and then catch the ferry to Iona which I could see in the murky distance through the rain. The Seaview' propietor, John, gave me a very warm welcome and showed me to my cozy room. I had an early night and slept with gale force winds singing in the background. Tomorrow if the ferry was able to run, I would take the 10 minute sail to Iona and begin the adventure of the writing retreat.