Wednesday, 28 July 2010

The Place Of Great Importance.

Thoughts on time spent with family in a childhood haunt.

What happens when time forgets itself?




When you are suspended, and all around you grows still, but the little voices echo clear as the sweetest bell in memories ear, and suddenly the lines are blurred and it no longer matters if you are the child or the child is yours?
What happens when you realise it may just be a mirror you are looking through, and the woman is no longer your mother, but you?


And the sigh that escapes your grateful mouth is caught on the stories that you now long to tell for nothing more than the reward of expanding their world a little more, and the secret pleasure of seeing their eyes seeing you anew.


And in all of this there are things that your heart beats to the time of:
the clamour of those dearest of voices, the flurry of so many with so much to share.


The cautious exploration and testing of unfamiliar waters, at times tentative, and sometimes explosive. And you stand back willingly as they find their own little pathways in this place you have brought them, as they forge new routes on their maps.



  The deep thinking of the solo sailor as he searches for his true course, touching base now and then to share his quiet, self-conscious laughter and hesitant purpose, so painfully familiar to you as though it were your own again.


And the chance to just pause and lie still and close your eyes and listen to the wind in the trees and the murmur of voices and to have nowhere to be.


And so you walk when you feel like it, meandering together with no purpose other than to be in one another's company, along pathways that are held somewhere in your collective memory, and through trees that have born witness to many histories.


And somewhere in the gathering is the still point, the quiet place that holds everything you all remember.

Photo by My Only Girl, age 12.
And though it is just another moment in time, you are standing together, choosing the bright new threads to add to this weave you are part of, your tiny part of this family history that goes back into the mists of time, each thread an essential thread, strong and full of purpose, and each one equally as vital as the next.


 And you take your little child by the hand, show him how it is this story is woven together with many hands and hearts.


And somewhere along the way you let them go, knowing their map overlaps with yours, knowing their threads are firmly caught. You let them go, a little at a time, in the certainty that those threads will never break. And that someday they will hold out their hand, and a child will ask to hear their story, will ask to know their place in it all.

For isn't this is the reason you came here? I see it so clearly now.

Time forgets itself so you can tighten all the knots.

21 comments:

Erin said...

This is just breathtaking. I love that it follows the previous post of old photos. And the little castle on the island is so beautiful! We have nothing like that here.

J9 said...

So beautifully reflected in your words and images, and allowing your children to share your shared experiences while creating their own - such a wonderful gift.

Martin H. said...

Just superb! You express your thoughts so well. A pleasure to read.

Today, I whirled our twin granddaughters around in my arms. The chuckles and wide-eyed excitement is now a memory....for keeps.

Luna said...

Beautiful photos to begin with but your words bring all emotion to the forefront. It's awesome that you've had the opportunity to relive your own experiences through the eyes of your little ones, and are able to give them the chance to see your own memories. All the while knowing that the tradition will continue. It's very touching. :)

affectioknit said...

So very lovely! and I love that flowered tent!

Ellen said...

I want to be there..what a magical spot you are at...I can reread and enjoy these photos over and over....thank you.

Mimi said...

Oh Ciara, your photos bring back so many memories that I didn't even know were there!
That tunnel! I look at your pictures and inside my head and heart I'm 8 yrs old again!

But your words; they are every bit as beautiful as your pictures, and they paint a picture of generation and regeneration.

Thank you, thank you.

And I'm soooo glad you enjoyed your trip.

Sara said...

Ciara, your photos are lovely. You have captured some of the magic of this place... I am sure I can see it. :) And as I read your words I can feel a common thread between us. Thank you. xx

In Real Life said...

Your beautiful poetry illustrated with your stunning photographs make my heart skip a beat! Absolutely beautiful!

Annah said...

Oh Ciara, such beautiful and poignant words....Thank you. The tunnel photos are so atmospheric, stunning.

O'Daly John said...

Should have been a great moment !

swedishouse said...

SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL...From the Heart
LOVE PEACE enJOY
Julie x

anna said...

Those tunnel pictures reminds me "Spirited Away" by Hayao Miyazaki.

Emma said...

Absolutely stunning. Beautiful thoughts and amazing photos. Is that your only girl in the last photo? She looks like she is floating...

acornmoon said...

So beautifully and eloquently expressed, as always. Now I am a grandma, I can relate even more.

Chris Judge said...

Amazing Ciara! It was a great weekend the forest park is a magical place.

MonikaR said...

Oh it looks so familiar and so close to me:))) It is great there:0 Lovely pictures.
XOXO:)

Anne said...

Beautiful thoughts and photos...:)

Glenn Raymond said...

I love this blog. You have some really great photographs here. Thank you for publishing this. Have a great weekend.

mimi charmante said...

sweet friend, your writing is enthralling - I could lose myself in it~
happy weekend to you and yours,
xx

Irmhild said...

That's a really well composed photo for a 12 year old girl!! also love the last photo, floating on light!