Proost podcast- wilderness retreat, part 1…

Imagine stepping away from the digital world and immersing yourself in the raw beauty of a tiny Hebridean island. What if you went there with a purpose, and deliberately called it a ‘pilgrimage’? What if you split your time there between laughing with friends and times of deep silence? What impact would such a time make in your life? Would it just be a nice interlude, or might it start to shape you in more profound ways? How might relationships that you formed there impact survive back in the real world, both in terms of the divine and profane?

On our most recent retreat, back in May, I took the opportunity to ask some of my friends these questions. We went to the island of Lunga, part of the Inner Hebrides, just the other side of the ‘Grey dogs’ tidal race from its more famous neighbour, Jura. This remote location, with its sense of wild beauty, provided the perfect backdrop for our trip, and this time, the sun was shining throughout. As we explored the island, we were reminded of the rich Celtic heritage and the spiritual significance of these islands – and how they connect us with an older spiriuality that was always connected to earth in ways that we have largely forgotten.

The retreat was more than just a getaway; it was a gathering of friends, old and new. We shared stories, laughter, and deep conversations, creating a temporary community that felt like home. I have often reflected on how these people, some of whom I see only once or twice a year, have become for me a kind of Anam Cara- deep soul-friends of the kind that ‘know’ me in ways that it is impossible to fully describe. Some of this is fostered by the island – the exposure and shared need for each other it places in us but also by the raw uncouth toilet humour that has two superpowers – it is very funny, but also strips out all pretense.

These video’s were recorded in a hurry, right at the end of our trip, as I it felt like an imposition, an indulgence. I am very grateful that some of my friends were gracious enough to take part.

There are two ways to watch/hear the chat…

By podcast

Or I uploaded the vid to Youtube here

New blog banner…

I took so many lovely photographs in the Outer Hebs that I decided to change the blog banner.

The dominating feature of the islands that I remember are the waves crashing on the empty white beaches, driven by the strong winds over the long reach of the wild Atlantic.

Sure, you may need a woolly hat along with your bucket and spade, but give me these places over the Costa del Sol any day…

And for further proof here are some more photo’s taken from beach of Halaman Bay, Barra. I promise to stop the holiday pics after this!

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Beaches were made for contemplation…

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We step out of the car into a wind whipped in from the arctic
Unconstrained by obstacle
And walk the soft sand towards the music of the sea.
Passing the strandline of shells left by the high spring tide
Grateful when feet find the firm sand squeezed by the kettledrum roll
Of the wonderful waves
As they spit out sparkling pebbles
Left in the sunlight like gifts from God

Inside our hats and scarves we are alone in inner space
Apart from the occasional sentence shouted into the salt air
To bring the kids away from a wave that reaches further towards
The tops of wellies

Beaches, I think, were made for contemplation
Just the place for poets
So I lift my watering eyes to the wind
And stand before a sea going out for ever
But also keeping on coming in
Offering to all the far horizon
And the longing for landfall
At the mercy of a friendly wind
And the fall of the tide

I watch the waves in the distance, hoping for a glimpse of a sea monster
And ponder all that life down deep
All those colours invisible in indigo darkness
Alive in creations overflow
And it is all too big
Unfathomable

Cuttlefish
Alien flashing transparency
Reduced somehow to parrot food
In another world

Whale
So big that movement seems tectonic
Impossible

So with faces numb
But senses alive
We walk on towards the reward
Of the seaside town
Offering some out of season hospitality
To poets and all