The cold wind and rain slap my face as if to wake me up to being in the moment. I've hauled my luggage down the steep narrow stairs of the Doolin Inn a little early so I can take a saunter. I head down Fisher Street towards the ferry dock, passing the brightly coloured shops and pause in front of Gus O'Connor's Pub. Last night we ended our journey with a knee slapping, toe tapping night of pure Irish Music and a glass or two of Guiness or Whiskey. I gaze out over the sea to the shadow of Inis Mor where a piece of my soul will forever remain.
The blustery weather of today does not dim the memory of the sun shining on my face as I lay atop Dun Aonghasa staring at the clouds and letting all of life pass through my head and heart. The steep climb, both up and down, tested my balance and kept me focused ! That last day a rainbow shone down across the rocky hillsides to the sea reflecting the magic of the place. I stopped at the bottom to have a chat with Vincent, the basket maker, who is there each day as I go up and down. Vincent came to Inis Mor for a weekend 52 years ago as a young fisherman and knew this is where he would spend the rest of his days. The little basket I bought will sit on my treasure shelf reminding me of my chats with Vincent, Kilmurvey House, Inis Mor and Dun Aonghasa (where the cows are not afraid of heights).
This morning I will say farewell to the 16 writers I have shared this "Go Alone" journey with. I was never, in fact, alone. We came from all corners and quickly settled into friendships that will last a lifetime. 12 of these women are 'alone' in life; widowed, divorced or single. Each one of them is creative, passionate and strong in spite of all life has thrown their way. I have always believed that we develop a sense of ourselves through the looking glass of others and these new friends held up their mirrors changing the way I see myself, especially as a writer, but really in every aspect of my life.
The writing itself was never my main goal in being here. But perhaps there is a writer inside of me, just longing to get out, much like the artist I didn't know resided in me. One of our writing prompts asked us to think about what the main character in our stories really longed for, what he/she/they was most afraid of, and and how the story would end. I am not a fiction writer but that prompt will definitely be guiding my life: What DO I most long for? What am I most afraid of and how do I want my story to end? Only time will tell but one thing is for sure, life will be lived in a more intentional manner thanks to my time 'alone'.
What a wonderful adventure for you at this stage in your life!
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