Monday 5 November 2007

A Coronach & Fire

There is only one road from Fort William to Arisaig and Mallaig. For the longest part of the journey, that high road to the Isles happens to be narrow, twisting and scary. My passenger prayed we would meet no oncoming traffic. Eileen had a sheer drop on her side of the car. And we were up amongst the tree-tops. In contrast the drive to Eilean Donan Castle, was awesomely beautiful.

e.donan003
Scots have laments in our music. Although now history, for some the memory of the past is very much alive. As the clan system was feudal, without its demise we would have made no progress. The way of the clans passing into history, a coronach (lament) living on in the poetry, the music of Gaelic hearts.

When touring the castle, I massively upset a young male guide. He proposed we should have The Lord of the Isles, reinstated. “You must be kidding,” I said. “That was feudal. Best left in history.” Well, his reaction was one of fury. Undaunted, I compounded this by saying, “Romanticising the past is the work of novelists.” Of course, that fuelled his fire even more. His mother, also a guide, nicely intervened. I hadn’t intended being provocative with her son. The words just leapt from my lips. It would have been polite to ask, why he thought The Lord of the Isles should be reinstated? We possibly, could have had more mileage from that.

The Celts of the British Isles settled in some of the most inhospitable, remote areas of this land. I have often thought we form within our character, the landscape of our belonging. Some people can’t live without the urban life of a city. Whilst cities have their charm, the majestic purple and blue misty mountains, the great antiphon of the North Atlantic Ocean, are a spiritual unfolding with every nuance of light. There is a primal recognition that flows within us, when encountering the powerful silence of the remote places. Those can be compelling, inspiring, awesome, even terrifying.
Road To The Isles

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