Yellow droplets of sunshine disguised as flowers sprinkle the fields like fairy dust in Ireland.
Ireland is the name of my favorite pasture at my boarding barn. It’s far away from the barn itself and I can sit unnoticed for hours with my boots off grounding my body in the earth.
I love laying on my stomach at the foot of the rolling hill by the lake staring up through the grass to the blue sky and fence line. There is bird song and breeze and the smell of grass, horses, geese, white clover buds.
Sparrows zipping above me, ants like arial artists on the blades of grass next to me, climbing each blades high height. As evening saunters in the frogs chirp by the lake.
I never feel alone in Ireland.
In Ireland, I feel like a girl again. This is what I did from 5-15, I laid in fields and stared at the sky. I wrote and thought about the world, I observed, I wrote poetry. It was a time before I knew about curse words and dark things. I only knew I was different from most children who were playing Nintendo. I preferred hours in a field alone.
I could go to the fields and feel loved and connected. To something bigger then myself, connected to the place that dreams came from.
Now I have Ireland. When I’m stressed or sad, I go there and lay on my stomach and look through th grass and know….this earth is good…and so am I. There is a deep goodness in all of us, that flows through us, it enters into our nose through breath. It enters are skin through sunlight, our feet through the ground.
Do you remember your magic girlhood or boyhood? That sacred time when you knew your own magic, your own goodnesss?
Yes, that is who you are still.
Find your Ireland…Go there.