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Lower World Journey

Updated: Mar 2

I journeyed to the Lower World

To meet my Spirit Guide

And found myself following a path

With a wolf by my side

Affording me friendship and protection

He seemed at the time

To be my totem animal and gentle guardian.

We walked along a river bank

Sunshine glistened on the water

There were otters swimming playfully

Some were lying belly up

Basking in the sun’s warm rays

Their carefree, unbridled joy

Made me yearn to have a life like theirs.

‘To wit-to woo’, an owl’s shrill cry

Pierced me through

And jerked me out of my reverie

I glimpsed him only for

A split second high up in the branches

Where I saw his round dark eyes

And later pondered what wisdom he espoused.

We continued walking, the wolf and I

The sound of gushing water

Came into earshot and grew louder

Until its source was unveiled

A waterfall, flowing down a rocky hillside

Its drops, a prism for the sun

To reveal in a rainbow the full colour spectrum

Continuing on, the path grew steeper

Up ahead I could see openings

Like caves in the stony embankment

Climbing higher now and over to the left

Was a view out to sea with a rocky island

Shrouded in mist, like some mythical Atlantis

Or could it be the enchanting Skellig Michael?

Up ahead on the path by the entrance

To a cave stood a bald-headed man

With a red beard and rimless glasses

Wearing a hooded robe like a monk

He had a calm, intelligent demeanour

And I couldn’t quite work out

Why it was that he looked so familiar

He nodded towards the cave

As though beckoning me to enter

I could just discern from its dark interior

A high stone table or altar upon which

Lay an opened book, displaying a message

That was only just written, for the ink was still wet

A quill rested on the page with an ink pot beside it

The message was in Gaelic

‘Conas ata tu? Ta me ag fanacht

Leat ar feadh tamaill fhada. Is mise Adrian’

When I emerged from the cave the man had gone

But I knew the message was from him

He wrote his name was Adrian

And he had been waiting for me a long time

Sometime after this adventure

I had a lucid dream where

I was a monk on Skellig Michael

One of my colleagues there was Adrian

As well as saying prayers and fasting

We were employed as Scribes, custodians

Of sacred knowledge, which to this day gives

Ireland the title, 'Land of Saints and Scholars’

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