I feel very fortunate to have walked these paths. Each path a different experience. Some paths smooth, easy, accommodating. Other ones rough, steep, narrow. This is the challenge. To keep going physically and emotionally no matter what arises. Or to give up. Turn back. Defeated. Paths run close to the cliff’s edge allowing a peek at the beauty down below. Virgin grass, pristine flowers, attractive palette of greens, purples, and pinks, all cascading down to meet the sea, all safely out of reach, free of any human touch. There is a magnetism to go right to the edge. My right foot there. A lure to join their safe painless world.  A wave of fear crescendoed. Quickly pull away. Rooting an urgent transfer of weight down into my left foot.

A sweet fragrance wafts around me. Dainty butterflies. Chorus of birds. Clap of the sea. My shoes upon the gritty path, scraping, crunching. My breath gradually synchronizing with the sound and pace of my footsteps. The rhythm of matching step to breath centres my mind. Inhale for three steps, exhale for four steps. An arrival of lightness and energy. This breathing technique reminded me of my walking meditation experience at a mindfulness meditation course in Dunderry, Co.Meath. I now realise the importance, the teachings; how it has helped me to get to where I am today. It was quite bizarre how I ended up there. My housesit was ending and my next one didn’t start for 10 days later. I was anxious being in this position. No other housesits had become available. Didn’t know where to go. Money was tight. While searching online for a reasonable place to stay I came across a mindfulness meditation 3 day retreat. Located about two hours away and the course dates would cover me for the first two nights. I felt a little unsure but strongly seduced by the very reasonable cost including all meals. I phoned. The course had been full for months but a cancellation had just been made at the last minute. I was in. Turned out the location was the Shamanic centre for Ireland, situated close to Newgrange, a 5,200 year old passage tomb. As I drove up the long lane there was real feel of mystery, rituals, folklore. It was not hard to imagine ancient druid and pagan ceremonies happening in the clearings amongst the old gnarly trees.

Now here I was with 29 strangers of various ages and backgrounds in this 200 year old Georgian house surrounded by acres of land. Upon entering the house you stepped into this grand room with a roaring fire, beckoning couches and well-loved enormous armchairs. An impressive rectangular oak table sat low in the middle supporting wool-socked feet, mugs of tea, and books. It was a very warm calm environment. Sharing a room with two other women we quickly became friends for the weekend as we laughed and cried, sharing our stories from the security of our beds. Each person at the retreat was there with their own story, their own crisis. Some people spoke about their feelings, insecurities, past traumas in their lives. Such a deep poring of emotion while the rest of us were completely silent holding a supported space for them. Our teacher, Mary O’Callaghan,  led us through mindful meditations. Lying on our mats the idea was to remain open to whatever is going on inside you. Release expectations. Doing an outdoors walking meditation as a group was a profound difficult experience. It sounded easy. How hard could a slow mindful walk be? The idea was to place your attention on your feet, try to sense each foot at the moment it touches the ground and when it leaves the ground. Do they roll from heel to toe, toe to heel, or flat ? Be aware of all the different sensations in your feet, not just a contact in the soles of your feet but the contact between the toes, the feeling of the inside of your shoes, the fabric of your socks, and let your feet be as relaxed as you can. Become aware of your ankles. Notice the qualities of the sensations in those joints – as your foot is on the ground, as your foot travels through the air. I felt slightly frantic trying to tap into all of this. So many things going on. A jolt that all of this time I had been walking on automatic pilot mode. Walking but really not knowing I was walking. I couldn’t seem to slow my walk down like others were doing. I kept getting too far ahead of the rest of the group. Why couldn’t I be like them? There they were, heads bowed, hands clasped, in the zone, radiating peace in their slow short steps. Trying to look the part, just wanting to get this over with, I attempted to copy them. Bowing my head, clasping my hands like a monk and with deep concentration managed to shorten and slow down my steps. My upper torso frustratingly remained perched forward, slightly ahead of my feet. It was the strangest thing that I couldn’t seem to rein it back, to line up over my feet. Maybe a subconscious pressure to get somewhere in a hurry. There is an internal struggle with my balance. More noticeable in this slow walk. I wonder if this is evident from the outside?  A strong sensation of tipping to the right. The right side of my body feels jaggedly open like it is reaching out to find the rest of it, a need to make it whole, find the edge. An epiphany. Jason was my right. I always tried to be on Jason’s left so that he could see me. He was blind on his right side and deaf on his left side. It was usually more important that he could see me than to hear me. I could always raise my voice. In the truck where we spent a lot of time Jason was always on my right side sitting in the passenger seat. This is why my body feels like it is searching for its right half. After a few more serious wobbles the teacher came over to me. I felt embarrassed. I had hoped that nobody had noticed. She quietly spoke words which made all the difference- “Stop trying to get somewhere.”  “At each step you are already there.” “You are home.” The effect was instant. Sense of hurry disappeared. I was totally present with each step. Amazing clarity. Not thinking about the previous step or the next step. Just experiencing the now. In that present moment I felt ease. All of my worries, sadness, fear, fell away for that moment. It was a glimpse at what was possible.