I know that experience well. You are sure you are alert and know where you are and then suddenly you can’t get your bearings. You are going round and round in circles. You can see the familiar a bit of a way off but can’t get to it.
I was reliably informed by my lovely father in law, many years ago, that this experience is the work of the fairies. It had happened many times to him . Solution: Take off your coat or jacket and turn it inside out and put it on again. Clarity returns. Brain fog disappears.
Tolkien lived in Connemara for a number of years. If you know Connemara and the Burren, you will recognise their landscapes in Lord of the Rings. The old barrows, the mountains, the caves. They are all there. And the peculiar sense of never being alone, that this landscape is somehow sentient.
Yes, Ireland definitely influenced him. He also lived in England, not far from Birmingham, which even now is quite Hobbity. The 'barrow downs' always remind me of the area around Avebury in Wiltshire, or the South Downs, which I love.
As I read the story just now I thought of the Barrow-downs. I wondered how you would have fared if you'd had to spend the night. Do you know the song for calling old Tom? Perhaps Bombadill can still hear...
The only time I've been to the South Downs, my first thought was how much it matched my mental image of the barrow-downs. On the one hand, I didn't find any ancient swords, on the other, at least I avoided meeting a barrow-wight
It must be a strange thing to find yourself in a place where Christianity, old Celtic religion and folklore meet. There is a story in ‘A book of Saints and Wonders’ where these 3 forces meet and a girl of the Sidhe, at St Patrick’s request, gives up her Druid beliefs in order to marry the Christian King of Connacht.
Many a story seems to unfold at such places and from the imagination of those who experienced a similar ‘daydream’
Wonderful. It's so human that the two of you ignored the sign. And even more human that you got a bit lost. I just hope that there are more than fifty wells on your itinerary.
This storytelling makes what sounds like a rather unpleasant and frustrating hike into an adventure with a hint of mystery and even danger. Love how “enchanted” it is. And thanks for the reminder of the Yeats poem. I am familiar with it from Loreena Mckennitt’s lovely recording, which itself brings back memories of childhood and youth that have their own flavour of enchantment and adventure.
Sounds like a fun romp, and I agree, I see a sign out in the boonies that says, "keep out" or something similar that's posted for no apparent reason and I share your feelings. You would appreciate the attitude of the farmer in one of my favorite poems by Wendell Berry, "The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer." https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/21/magazine/poem-the-contrariness-of-the-mad-farmer.html How's your vegetable garden doing? We're overwhelmed with greens and chard at the moment, and I'm enjoying watching the tomatillos take to the sky. Cheers.
Reminds me of the William Allingham poem Up the airy mountain down the rushy glen….
Glad you didn’t get stole away .
Reminds me of many illicit adventures of my own .
In fact today I went for a long steep walk to try and reach a tor on Dartmoor that a strange woman called Beatrice Chase who lived in Widecombe in the early years of the last century called Dream Tor but was in the end deterred by stone walls with bar bed wire on either side which a decade ago I would have clambered over biut now decided I’d have to make do with being a field away
I guess you found the thing you were looking for, which is all that matters, regardless of whether it was the ‘right one’ or not, and you had a great adventure!
There are so many beautiful springs and water coming out of rock out there once you start walking around and looking in wild places. All of them are magical.
BTW, when I read ‘mass rock’ I was expecting something big, or dense, but maybe that’s because I did too much science at school and not enough RE. 😁
Fabulous!! Reminds me of Tolkien's 'Barrow Downs'.
I made a connection reading this post about clandestine Liturgy on top of graves. It is a pattern that repeats itself over and over, whenever the Church is persecuted, even when the participants don't plan it that way. Three cases come to mind: 1. The original catacomb Church in Rome and the fact that the early Church celebrated Liturgies on the graves of the Martyrs. 2. This example of clandestine Masses among graves in Ireland. 3. Soviet Russia. There was a case of a hidden catacomb church elder (the catacomb Russian Church refers to those who would not celebrate with the collaborating official state church called "The Living Church".) who lived secretly in the home of a nun where they would hold Divine Liturgy regularly. Eventually, he died and his spiritual children buried him under the house in the basement and held Liturgies on his grave.
Its like there is something cosmic about this pattern and I don't really understand it. Its very mysterious. I would love to hear Jonathon Pagaeu comment on it.
Asking for prayers as we sit here in Houston awaiting the arrival of the Cat 1 Hurricane Beryl to arrive in about 10 hours time. Very surreal as there is no motion save the influence of a gentle breeze. All machines and animals are hunkering down and is quite literally the calm b4 the storm. The last time a hurricane came thru these parts, Harvey, it parked over us for four days and literally made a lake out of the 4th largest city in the States. This one, we are told, will move quickly out of the area.
Second, to the writer at his craft; thank you for the telling!
Third, to holy disobedience! Who I ask can claim the right to control another man's path, on lands not his own, that pre-exist his ancestral beginnings and will outlast his final descendant's breath?!
Even if there be bears- saunter on!
Three hearty cheers, from the West Coast of British Columbia, Canada!
I know that experience well. You are sure you are alert and know where you are and then suddenly you can’t get your bearings. You are going round and round in circles. You can see the familiar a bit of a way off but can’t get to it.
I was reliably informed by my lovely father in law, many years ago, that this experience is the work of the fairies. It had happened many times to him . Solution: Take off your coat or jacket and turn it inside out and put it on again. Clarity returns. Brain fog disappears.
I will try that next time!
Well I think you should. My father in law was a very sensible man and very experienced with having to turn his coat inside out.
I accidentally liked my own post. Dearie me.
More fairie mischief because you gave away the solution.
‘Quite likely ‘ I’m thinking.
Sounds like an experience in Tolkien’s old forest or the barrow downs.
Tolkien lived in Connemara for a number of years. If you know Connemara and the Burren, you will recognise their landscapes in Lord of the Rings. The old barrows, the mountains, the caves. They are all there. And the peculiar sense of never being alone, that this landscape is somehow sentient.
Yes, Ireland definitely influenced him. He also lived in England, not far from Birmingham, which even now is quite Hobbity. The 'barrow downs' always remind me of the area around Avebury in Wiltshire, or the South Downs, which I love.
As I read the story just now I thought of the Barrow-downs. I wondered how you would have fared if you'd had to spend the night. Do you know the song for calling old Tom? Perhaps Bombadill can still hear...
Avebury Circle is wonderful.
The only time I've been to the South Downs, my first thought was how much it matched my mental image of the barrow-downs. On the one hand, I didn't find any ancient swords, on the other, at least I avoided meeting a barrow-wight
I wonder if there is a connecting with the Tuatha Dé Danann stories in that area.
A proper Irish adventure—tombs and faeries and breakin' the law—plus Yeats! Probably my fave Holy Wells essay to date.
It must be a strange thing to find yourself in a place where Christianity, old Celtic religion and folklore meet. There is a story in ‘A book of Saints and Wonders’ where these 3 forces meet and a girl of the Sidhe, at St Patrick’s request, gives up her Druid beliefs in order to marry the Christian King of Connacht.
Many a story seems to unfold at such places and from the imagination of those who experienced a similar ‘daydream’
Well? The experience ended well and in itself gives wonder and something to ponder.
"For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."
Indeed. Always loved The Waterboys' version of this poem, with its spoken verses and sung refrain.
Yes, that is a cracker!
https://youtu.be/mVSN9DMvl6I?si=dLPnKK0ozSw5L1wr
Wonderful. It's so human that the two of you ignored the sign. And even more human that you got a bit lost. I just hope that there are more than fifty wells on your itinerary.
This storytelling makes what sounds like a rather unpleasant and frustrating hike into an adventure with a hint of mystery and even danger. Love how “enchanted” it is. And thanks for the reminder of the Yeats poem. I am familiar with it from Loreena Mckennitt’s lovely recording, which itself brings back memories of childhood and youth that have their own flavour of enchantment and adventure.
I share your complicated relationship with big official signs. The land is for the people!
Sounds like a fun romp, and I agree, I see a sign out in the boonies that says, "keep out" or something similar that's posted for no apparent reason and I share your feelings. You would appreciate the attitude of the farmer in one of my favorite poems by Wendell Berry, "The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer." https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/21/magazine/poem-the-contrariness-of-the-mad-farmer.html How's your vegetable garden doing? We're overwhelmed with greens and chard at the moment, and I'm enjoying watching the tomatillos take to the sky. Cheers.
Reminds me of the William Allingham poem Up the airy mountain down the rushy glen….
Glad you didn’t get stole away .
Reminds me of many illicit adventures of my own .
In fact today I went for a long steep walk to try and reach a tor on Dartmoor that a strange woman called Beatrice Chase who lived in Widecombe in the early years of the last century called Dream Tor but was in the end deterred by stone walls with bar bed wire on either side which a decade ago I would have clambered over biut now decided I’d have to make do with being a field away
I guess you found the thing you were looking for, which is all that matters, regardless of whether it was the ‘right one’ or not, and you had a great adventure!
There are so many beautiful springs and water coming out of rock out there once you start walking around and looking in wild places. All of them are magical.
BTW, when I read ‘mass rock’ I was expecting something big, or dense, but maybe that’s because I did too much science at school and not enough RE. 😁
Fabulous!! Reminds me of Tolkien's 'Barrow Downs'.
I made a connection reading this post about clandestine Liturgy on top of graves. It is a pattern that repeats itself over and over, whenever the Church is persecuted, even when the participants don't plan it that way. Three cases come to mind: 1. The original catacomb Church in Rome and the fact that the early Church celebrated Liturgies on the graves of the Martyrs. 2. This example of clandestine Masses among graves in Ireland. 3. Soviet Russia. There was a case of a hidden catacomb church elder (the catacomb Russian Church refers to those who would not celebrate with the collaborating official state church called "The Living Church".) who lived secretly in the home of a nun where they would hold Divine Liturgy regularly. Eventually, he died and his spiritual children buried him under the house in the basement and held Liturgies on his grave.
Its like there is something cosmic about this pattern and I don't really understand it. Its very mysterious. I would love to hear Jonathon Pagaeu comment on it.
Asking for prayers as we sit here in Houston awaiting the arrival of the Cat 1 Hurricane Beryl to arrive in about 10 hours time. Very surreal as there is no motion save the influence of a gentle breeze. All machines and animals are hunkering down and is quite literally the calm b4 the storm. The last time a hurricane came thru these parts, Harvey, it parked over us for four days and literally made a lake out of the 4th largest city in the States. This one, we are told, will move quickly out of the area.
O man.
First, to the place. May it outlast my kind!
Second, to the writer at his craft; thank you for the telling!
Third, to holy disobedience! Who I ask can claim the right to control another man's path, on lands not his own, that pre-exist his ancestral beginnings and will outlast his final descendant's breath?!
Even if there be bears- saunter on!
Three hearty cheers, from the West Coast of British Columbia, Canada!