Some notes on time spent on the Isle of Iona, January 2016

I’ve been on Iona for almost two weeks and it’s been so beautiful here. Most days I walk across the field outside my window, through the tiny black sheep and the heavy gate, to the rabbity tussocks above the North beach. The first glimpse always takes my breath away. I take with me sketchbook, cameras, thermos; I wear two coats, three scarves and two pairs of gloves. I don’t usually walk far; a few steps and I’m near the Otter hollow, Otter path, his runway to the waves, and I sit quietly to see if he will come again.

My intention is to tune into the beauty of the place, to draw, to write; but mostly I sit quietly on the sand, feeling too small and insignificant to do anything. I find the purity and strength of this place almost overwhelming … so I am still in it, breathing quietly, my heart opening like two shells or opening hands. Yesterday I walked west and the wind-blown sand was like fire on my face. I photographed the wave-gestured watery hair on the tips of tumbling waves; I did write a few words, and I saw a fiery form in the sky at sundown..as if the sky mantle had been split open.


Later, reading about St Columba, I turned to a passage about a white horse who pressed his head against the Saint’s chest, weeping, knowing the Saint was soon to pass away. My horse used to stand and press her head against my chest, I used to stroke her brows and broad forehead. It was a peaceful and lovely communion and finding this passage at random brought me home to myself.

Kate on Iona 2015      Kate on north beach

 

Still afternoon Iona     Abbey drawing, sketchbook, Iona, 2015