The marking of transitions seems important. I feel myself to me in be in the middle of some kind of transition, albeit from what, to what is not easy to describe…

Today, we made a kind of pilgrimage around most of the island, which was a tough old trip. The first thought was to walk from the south lighthouse, to the north lighthouse, which is about 5-6 km, but of course, we walked back again.

Along the way, we called in to see Marie, who makes the most stunning fairisle jumpers/hats/blankets. She also runs knitting holidays and has a vacancy in June if anyone fancies it. Her website is here.

Marie also keeps sheep, and we were able to cuddle a couple of lambs that were born just this morning. I found myself moved by the innocent beauty of them, and it made me think of our Grandson Robert… and it made the discussion about how god is in and through all living things very simple.

When we reached the North light, after a long trudge, I took a couple of little electric tea lights out of my pocket and we ‘lit’ them. (It was VERY windy so any traditional candle lighting would have been impossible.) What meaning to make from this small pilgimage?

From light to light. The light that is within all light.

From the south to the north, from one place to another.

Remembering the old, including it. Moving towards the new, trancending it.

Along the way, we met, we refueled, we paused, we encountered. A man showed us his lovely garden.

Next, I walked the high north cliff tops. Michaela lost me for a while and became convinced I had gone over into the sea below, wheeling with gannets, guillemots and shags.

We followed the high parts back down the island, heading for our temporary home.