On the shores of Loch Fyne, beside the mouldering, ivy-grown stones of Old Castle Lachlan, deep in Argyll’s Secret Coast, there was a moment of total union. When the winds ripped apart the clouds and drove down rain from the sun. When the light ricocheted off the skin of the sea and the waves crawled upon the stones like a finger upon the lips. In this straightforward intersection of the autumn components the rainbow bridge arced across the heavens. Is there a significantly less apparent rosetta stone than an immaterial beam of light?
On the initial day of the Celtic New Year the spirit planet and our planet overlap. Maybe I heard the brownie of Old Castle Lachlan sweeping away my confusion or the waterhorses of Loch Fyne neighing truths beneath the waves. Standing on the castle bridge, mouth parted and neck craning, I watched this beam of light striate into colors that make all other colors. How straightforward and correct how a single tends to make all and all make a single. Mother Nature implores us to see our nature in hers. And even as the clouds slid back across the blue and the loch turned really hard as beaten steel, I did. I do. Thank you spirits, for practically nothing can ever be the very same.