I am experiencing elemental life here on Iona.
The warm of sun, the bluster of the ever-present wind, the sound of birds, the roar of the waves, the dance of flowers, the smell of salt in the water, the taste of unstructured days, the give of sand, and the sound of voices raised in communal worship: these are a few of my favorite things.
We toured a small portion of the island this morning. Stories were told, fact and legend both, about Columba, the Iona community, life on the island, the amazing gift of children being born on this island of very few residents, and the ways that this place has been magnet for the spiritually hungry through the ages.
Tomorrow we will take a four-hour hiking pilgrimage to the Southern end of the island. We will be in the wind and the sun in the company of the holy. God willing, the legendary horizontal rains will not join us.
I’m trying to remember when last I gave myself permission to simply be in the midst of life as creature open to wonder.
It feels as though the wind is scouring the encrusted places of too-busy from my soul. It is holy erosion.
The Holy Spirit swept into a long ago room and did a wild sort of dance upon the heads of those gathered and a justice and life-making movement was born.
I am feeling wind swept and there is borning.