sentinel over the central Munster countryside .. a beacon to Irish lord
and lady, cattle baron and warrior, farmer and child .. every person in the land."
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sentinel over the central Munster countryside .. a beacon to Irish lord and lady, cattle baron and warrior, farmer and child .. every person in the land." |
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He painted the picture .. large in scope .. yet yielding to the eye, as well. She loved all the he said .. all that he made visible through his mind’s eye, and thus hers, too ... and she so loved and admired him for including the little things .. the details .. she found so alluring in his tells. Not a speaker of facts .. no .. he was able to take the brush, of his words, and paint with color and symmetry, with feeling and hope .. with an innate sense of what would touch and react within. She fell, headlong and heartlong, into his word painting .. he, in turn, knew she had .. and intoned his tell even more in her direction. They were transported .. together .. to the grand site .. gazing up at the monumental edifice ..from a place off in the fields. Marveling at its grandeur .. sensing the history and personalities of those who had come before .. and reveling in those long storied legends .. they stood, arms clasped, just staring. Pitching his voice just so .. letting the tell sit lightly on the mind, so as not to overburden and lose the story. He wanted her to share this place, this sentinel of old green island lore .. and, in turn, know more of him. The tells manifested themselves in that way ..with these two. They learning much about each other .. from the telling .. the hearing ... and especially, the reacting to, each separate tell. It was not a communication in one direction only, by any means. He saw and felt her specific reactions, gauging and sitting in wonder at her depth of feeling ..her empathy .. her inexperience with, yet understanding of, the kaleidoscope of things he added to her life. With those empathy feelings in mind, in both their hearts ..she anticipated his next foray into yet another wondrous tell. She found her heart reacting in steadfastly euphoric manner .. and found it light as a feather ..as well. All she had to do was glance at him .. make eye contact ..and he knew she was ready ..more than ready, for another adventure. “To all approaching (whether seeking a kingly boon .. or bringing silver and furs for a tribute .. or those looking after the needs of the small village of attendants and courtiers, housed below the immense and imposing edifice),” he said. “It is a grand castlery arrangement, warm and glowing atop the colder, limestone outcropping,” he said. “The Rock has been part of the people's lives since time was remembered .. in different forms, as it was built and added upon,” he said. “It was further augmented and made to reflect the personalities of the leaders who dwelt within... including Brian Boru, great King of Munster and later of all the green island. Brian brought honor and intricate personality to this place .. long before he united the wild Irish tribes, and drove the Vikings from this, their homeland. “He and others brought personality, to rock and stone .. a living place, where form and substance joined with limestone, where warmth and a tapestry of construction, 14 generations of patient, thoughtful additions and augmentations, gave finality to the castle, that we can see before us,” he entoned. "See," he said, "the way it rises out of the foothills ... as we stand here, almost 15 miles away .. Cashel, a place where I was fostered for a time, during my apprentice days." She marveled at the sight .. the apparent grandness of the castlery overwhelmed her .. for reasons her eyes beheld .. but, the marvel came from within, as well ... as she felt, and saw, and experienced, all that he saw.. and had felt.. as a 14 year-old youth ..sent here for a six-month apprenticeship under the leadership of the southern province's great Bard, Annum. She saw the Rock, as he did, both now.. as a man of substance and reflection.. and also as a young and impressionable bard-to-be .. traveling to the south for the first time. The two windows to his soul, young and eager, mature and more eager .. caused her to smile .. and feel him ..standing there. He stared .. and saw all the things that made the Rock, all the pieces and forms. Because of their connection, and his descriptive prowess .. she saw. And what she saw was one of the island’s truest masterpieces. “See ... a Round Tower from 1050 AD, still capped and silently watching over the countryside and its inhabitants,” he said. “It’s the first thing that catches everyone’s eye, standing almost 100 feet tall, softening the hard angles of the rest, with a soft turning of its side and roof. Then, see the square and higher castle-like cathedral, of the style built in the early 1300’s.. taller and to the right of the tower. The 14th century Cathedral makes up the bulk of what we see ... wrapping itself around Cormac's Chapel, built in 1127.” “Hiding, Cormac’s is, behind the Abby facing east, toward the morning sunshine,” he said. “The smaller Chapel, with a roundish, Romanesque archway over the entrance, features two towers, unusually, seeing one is square in shape and the other round. It is unique in that fact,”, he said. “It warms faster, in both reality and in their sight.. as the whiter limestone of that portion stands out from the darker gray of the abby's almost overpowering walls behind. All of the edifice .. is surrounded by 15 foot high limestone walls .. fittingly mirroring the ancient word Caiseal, meaning fortress. “But Cashel, to me, is more than stone work, more than mere history,” the Bard entoned. “It is a jumble of architecture, to be sure ..but somehow it is juxtaposed in a way where roundness works well with squared lines .. where concepts born from observation and retreat were married with fortressing, and safety and siege mentality .. where even designs to provide light to inner chambers didn’t clash with massive stone bastions, build before comfort took form over necessity or dependability.” “Cashel is a marriage of different eras, a combining of architecture and personality, a melding of function and dream state ... a place, cherished by the people, in a way that parallels their reverence for special, personally-experienced natural places,” he said. “They, and I, look upon the Rock, in the same special internal light, as are created when viewing a silver, booming waterfall in the afternoon’s soft glow; an observance of rocky coastline, with waves crashing, cobalt blue sky awash with racing white puffs of cloud and dotted with gulls soaring; or a marveling at the peace and tranquillity of a silent, verdant wood, fern and moss covered, and wrapped in silent green quietude. These places, and more than can be counted, live in the hearts of the people .. and the Rock, you can see and feel, lives there too.” “The embodiment of one of the people’s favorite Cashel remembrances , is St. Patrick’s Cross,” he smiled. “Constructed in the early 1100’s, the crutched cross, on its white limestone base, was the location of the coronation of all Munster kings thereafter, and is held in high reverence as a link to the history .. the beliefs and the reverent respect the people have for the green island’s patron saint.” She listened, as he continued... but the details faded as the tell continued. She marveled, once more, in that the descriptions lived inside of her .. but even more, the moods .. the emotion.. the personalities.................... the humanity ............. of the Rock, lived within her, in ever-growing circles of sentiment. She felt the soul of the place .. almost as if it were a living, breathing organism .. through his words ..and then, through herself, in response. Those connections .. his ability to transform a simple observation into a life-moving experience .. brought them still closer together. |
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