Cliffs of Mother- the Portal and Dragons

The bus ride to the Cliffs of Moher was uneventful. Dramatic, wind kissed vistas filled our views of Ireland's landscape. Stone fences and wild black berry bushes felt like a patchwork quilt across the green velvet landscape. 

The day was cloudy and soulful. Not cold, but just on the edge of being so. 

"There be the Fairy King's Castle on the left." Our driver chimed over the intercom. 

We passed a small castle. The size of a dog house. 



"You can really understand the phrase 'Irish Tenor' when you hear him." I mentioned to my stepdaughter who sat beside me- I snapped a photo of the Fairy King's Castle as we passed. "Hi Fairy King." I whispered so no one near would hear me- trusting the Fairies could. 

As the bus parked at the base of the Cliffs of Moher, the driver mentioned that these cliffs were seen in the Harry Potter movies and were also the "Cliffs of Insanity" in The Princess Bride movie.

The weather was somewhere between mist and humidity with the rolling grey cloud above us like a bed comforter with kittens rummaging beneath. The sky didn’t feel threatening, but a companion to the unfolding of what the day would be. 

There's a smell that wafts from the steel blue ocean that carries to you- long before you see the water.

At the cliffs we climbed the winding serpentine stone steps that led the way to the outlooks. While glimpses of the cliffs are available as you trek upwards, watching with care to avoid the slippery moss and dampened treads; suddenly, you see the full scope of the cliffs, and immediately a hush of reverence comes over you and every other tourist near you who finally experiences the first impression. 


photo credit Katie Jo

photo credit Katie Jo

Things seemed to quiet. Even though tourists from all over the world were climbing up and down the same steps nearby, there's a shift. 

"I wonder if it's the exposed and raw edge of the Earth-the vulnerability, the beauty of the revelation of layers beneath what is usually underground that brought the immediate shift, or just the awe of the energy coming into view, or the ocean energy that flows up the walls and over the lip of the cliff face. Perhaps it's the pathways- hundreds of pathways that were created between heaven and Earth with the deaths of those who sacrificed their lives there." Journal entry.


Jo


photo credit Katie Jo




At the top of the tourist outlook the notes of Irish Folk accompany the hush and whoosh of the ocean waves below that echo upwards. And (for a fee) minstrels will play and sing songs with no clear beginning or known origin. Just the music of a people that has lived, loved, and fought for their survival on this dramatic land. 

photo credit Katie Jo

photo credit Katie Jo
photo credit Katie Jo
photo credit Katie Jo
photo credit Katie Jo
photo credit Katie Jo

photo credit Katie Jo


photo credit Katie Jo

photo credit Katie Jo

As you see the grandeur, the inexplainable vastness of the cliffs, it's easy to understand the legends of the Green Isle. The idea that dragons lived and live here. Those mythical serpents of the sky that nest upon the face of the rock as it scans the open skies of the ocean.

Are they here? Are dragons real? Do they exist in a dimension different than what a human can perceive? 

Was it the reverence of the cliffs or was it the humility of being in the presence of creatures unseen but felt? 

There's more than a we can possibly know in one lifetime at the Cliffs. Were the sirens singing? Is it the call of the ocean, the dragons, or the mystical realm that calls us to the edge- tempting fate. 

Reaching out, hands and finger tips extended in the misty unknown, over the crumbling and weathered rocks of sheer power. A power so close and palpable that it is pulsing through your body. 

There are places that words will never due justice to. 

The Cliffs are those. 

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