{"id":9373,"date":"2021-01-18T18:00:03","date_gmt":"2021-01-18T18:00:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/cassandravoices.com\/?p=9373"},"modified":"2021-01-18T18:00:03","modified_gmt":"2021-01-18T18:00:03","slug":"ruins","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/2021\/01\/18\/ruins\/","title":{"rendered":"Ruins"},"content":{"rendered":"

O<\/span>ver the treetops, along the edge of the upper lake, a merlin hunts a starling. Isolated from its flock, that starling fights to avoid the clutches of a small falcon. Fallen memories of past murmurations dance on the surface for a moment and then perish in the peaceful water below: it looks inevitable and only a matter of time, before the old wizard sinks its claws into the imperiled druid.<\/span><\/p>\n

While the two brothers approached the water\u2019s edge below, I dropped from one spent thermal; drifting in the sky, lazily looking to let another warm current lift me a little higher above the tree line to stalk their predestined path.<\/p>\n

The lake stretched up the valley in a murky rectangle, darkened by peat-rich soil from the surrounding steep hills and cliffs. Although the minerals obscured its muddied depths, the lake\u2019s surroundings reflected flawlessly on its curtained surface until a rare whisper of air turned the portrait of a fine day into a shimmering jewel, before still perfection returned once more: blue to silver to sky blue again.<\/p>\n

Opposite the beach, through the valley, and over the mirror, a river cracked their impending trek in half. A high ridge overlooking one side of the lake followed all the way back, descending through trees, returning to the shore where the siblings stood.<\/p>\n

Sporadic shadows of uneasiness splashed across my consciousness when sometimes the trees and dirt glistened like the vast liquid ornament, sitting ancient where only it<\/em> could ever belong, in the middle of the upper glen.<\/p>\n

Separated by six years, they stood close together now at the lake\u2019s edge. Sailing in the void above the brothers, I watched them move together, trading gestures and pointing at the surroundings. I heard their voices bouncing back and forth and sometimes blending in unison as they overlapped and interrupted one another without hesitation; a complex, instinctive, fluttering dance; only possible with two people who have served an early life sentence in each other\u2019s company.<\/p>\n

Laid out before them in a glorious widescreen feast, they took a breath and surveyed the land. Paul, congratulated himself on the idea of coming to the mountains for the day, \u201cNot a terrible way to spend a Tuesday afternoon Cormac, huh?\u201d Trying to downplay it for as long as he could before falling short, arms outstretched, he blurted, \u201cHow impressive is this?!\u201d<\/p>\n

Cormac was kicking himself for not thinking to bring swimming shorts or a towel. He regarded a couple of Scandinavian backpackers. The sun turning the girls\u2019 faces into shining beacons, their skin almost transparent, as they floated in the water. Any initial signs of shivering distress rapidly turned into cool relief. On this April day, a revitalizing dip was an enticing prospect. Best not get all wet before the hike<\/em>, he thought, before responding to the brotherly bag of enthusiasm beside him, \u201cIt looks fucking magnificent, Paul, yeah.\u201d Squinting up the valley in the distance, \u201cI hope your itinerary for the day includes the top of that waterfall…\u201d<\/p>\n

Although neither of them had been here before, Paul, the eldest of three boys, assumed responsibility as rookie trail-guide for today\u2019s excursion, perusing all of the hiking options before embarking, he of course felt obliged to select the most spectacular. \u201cYeah, we\u2019ll follow the river right to the top, halfway around, I think\u201d<\/p>\n

Concerned Cormac might be put-off by the expedition\u2019s wingspan, Paul added, \u201cIt\u2019ll only take three or four hours to get the whole way round.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood stuff.\u201d Unperturbed Cormac scanned the way forward, \u201cWhich way are we doing it?\u201d Glancing left and then right, but before Paul could answer, Cormac was already marching for the trees and the path counter clockwise around the lake. He turned his head back, \u201cThis way okay, yeah?\u201d They moved off the beach leaving the bathers and picnickers in peace.<\/p>\n

It felt like two lifetimes ago since I had last seen them together. The sight of the pair walking side-by-side was the harbinger of a misty solace. Still young men, one in his mid-twenties, the other in his early-thirties, they ambled between the trees in a familiar rhythm. It struck me as an extremely rare occurrence, like two celestial bodies lining up for an instant, with a third eclipsing, in the middle. Each one on their own, otherwise lonely orbit. A photon of bliss stretched out supernaturally; they carried on in concert along the path where time stood still and the planets ceased to spin; drawn together once more, not by gravity but by blood and time.<\/p>\n

In tandem footprints left in their wake, was an unexpected gift. A whole spectrum of emotion swung heavily into my gut. Sadness to joy; plunged down into deep cold darkness before regurgitating into the light and warmth of the shallows, safe. As I watched and listened, I was drawn a bit nearer to them, getting closer to the tops of the trees and the earth below.<\/p>\n

Sheltered in the woodland, still on the first segment of the ellipse, their voices were not completely clear; the conversation cutting in and out, almost like the leaves and branches obscured their voices as much as they shielded the light of the Spring Sun.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Cormac had just returned from Vietnam. He was paying a long overdue visit to family and friends for the next couple of months. After travelling around Southeast Asia for a spell teaching English, he\u2019d settled down in Saigon with a local and had been working in a school there for nearly two years.<\/p>\n

In an effort to try to reconnect with his baby brother, Paul took the day off work so they could get away from the city for a few hours and loiter in each other\u2019s presence. He worked primarily in Dublin, where they grew up. Just after sloshing out of a long distance relationship, he felt the connection with his brother was also beginning to evaporate.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019ve chosen areas across the country where they\u2019ll have a chance to thrive.\u201d Paul had heard about a project that aimed to reintroduce wolves back into Ireland. They\u2019d all been slaughtered centuries ago. \u201cThey\u2019ve selected this place as one of those territories.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cApparently, once the Brits rid themselves of all their wolves, they decided to rid us of ours too.\u201d\u00a0 Cormac stated matter-of-factly. \u201cThanks very much, Lads!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo where will the new wolves comes from? Russia or somewhere?\u201d Cormac wondered aloud.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid I tell you about the wolf we saw in Colorado?\u201d Paul inhaled and continued, \u201cWe woke up, before the alarm clock, in a motel in Pagosa Springs. We wanted to cover a lot of ground on the longest day of our road trip, so we surfaced at 5am. Ten minutes after we\u2019d set off towards Durango, this giant wolf lumbered across the road in front of our car. Steam rising from its frame, we gave the smoldering demon a wide berth. We were still in shock about a mile down the road, when we see a deer, its demeanor faster to react, and flighty. We wondered if it detected the danger looming just up the road, in the morning gloom.\u201d<\/p>\n

The brothers were now halfway up the length of the lake, when on the opposite side, through the grey sessile oak trees and across the water, they spied a lone cave. In the middle of the day, that black hole stood out in its surroundings. Its main purpose, perhaps, to destroy any light that dared enter. On this brilliant day, it remained in constant shadow. Once glimpsed, it drew the eye to stare into its belly and locked their gaze.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen he was a monk in the monastery, down at the lower lake, St. Kevin used to go up there for days on end. It\u2019s known as St. Kevin\u2019s Bed.\u201d Patting himself on the back, Paul was again pleased with himself for researching the locale.<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus, what was he running away from? Was the monastery not bad enough?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the whole religious seclusion thing.\u201d Paul started to ramble, \u201cLike, didn\u2019t Jesus spend some time in the desert on his own, sacrificing and praying and what-not\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Neither of them had a considerable handle on religious history.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think that was Lent,\u201d recalled Cormac, \u201cForty days and forty nights.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes I feel I\u2019m doing my own forsaken religious sacrifice, but not by choice.\u201d Realizing he was feeling sorry for himself, Paul swerved back onto his tour guide script, \u201cThere\u2019s not supposed to be much room inside, not big enough to stand in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome of the most beautiful temples in Vietnam are in very unapproachable locations. Both Buddhist and Catholics have solitude in common. The whole way of life seems extremely bleak to me. I get that retreat is beneficial to a certain degree when life gets a bit too noisy and there\u2019s no access to a volume button but to spend your time cramped in a damp cave for days on end could be taking it a step too far, no?\u201d The Cu Chi tunnels popped into Cormac\u2019s head. Just north of Ho Chi Minh City, he\u2019d crawled through them, and saw the booby traps. In that light, he reassessed St. Kevin\u2019s cell on his bleakness scale. \u201cI\u2019m not sure if I understand all that monk stuff. The never-ending stillness is hard for me to grasp.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAt least the monks, whether Irish or Vietnamese, had their own pack to fall back to, even in all of these beguiling solitudes. I heard about a group of people in Japan, the Hikikomori, they completely isolate themselves from everything because I think they feel like they don\u2019t belong in modern Japanese society. These people are living solitary lives whilst being suffocated by their own flock living all around them in massive Japanese metropolises. Locking themselves away in their tiny rooms \u2013 a refuge within four walls; the only place they are not totally lost. Now to me…That sounds bleak\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should try and get up here again before I fly back,\u201d inhaling the earth around him, Cormac\u2019s content demeanor reinforced his suggestion, \u201cBring the folks with us next time. They\u2019d love it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was telling Dad that we were coming up, and he said he used to do drills in this valley when he was in the army. He mentioned a famous soldier, I can\u2019t remember his name, he swam across the water under the cover of darkness and crawled up to the cave where he evaded capture. Perhaps the wolves should have tried something similar.\u201d<\/p>\n

They rambled on in silence for a time, breaking from their shelter of trees to approach the stony plateau of the Glenealo river; gushing towards them, in abrupt steps, from small bubbling rapids higher up, to man-sized waterfalls on the way down, until finally at the mouth, it all blurred into the stillness of the upper lake.<\/p>\n