The World Of Soul Is Secret, I was born In a limestone valley. To live in a valley is to enjoy a private sky. All around, life is framed by the horizon. The horizon shelters life yet constantly calls the eye to new frontiers and possibilities. The mystery of this landscape is further an ancient conversation has continued between the chorus of the ocean and the silence of the stone. No two stone shapes in this landscape are the same. Each stone has a different face. Often the angle of the light falls gently enough to bring out the sky presence of each stone. Here, it feels as if a wild, surrealistic God laid down the whole landscape. Those stones, ever patient, ever still, continue to praise the silence of time. The Irish landscape is full of memory; it holds the ruins and traces of ancient civilization. There is a curvature in the landscape, a color and shape that constantly frustrate the eye anxious for symmertry or linear simplicity. The poet W. B. Yeats, in referring to this landscape, speaks of that stern color and that delicate line that are our secret discipline. Every few miles of road the landscape changes; it always surprises, offering ever new vistas that surprise the eye and call the imagination. This landscape has a wild yet serene complexity. In a sense, this reflects the nature of Celtic consciousness.
Posted on: Tue, 23 Sep 2014 19:40:33 +0000
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