The gift of silence

Killarney National Park in March, empty and looking like a Hudson River School Painting

The first week at Cill Rialaig, I so was overwhelmed by the freedom, the silence, the pressure of possibility and my own aspirations for my work that I sort of wasted it in the entirety. I got sick from overwork the last two months and my inability to build a long-lasting peat fire. But I think that was necessary, minus the sick. Slowing down isn’t easy in a world that puts us all into a fear of scarcity, demands constant connection and is impossibly noisy; visually and audibly.

But in Kilreelig I slowed down, finally and reveled in the silence, in the enormous gift of simplicity and disconnection. I often sat on my doorstep with my cup of tea watching the clouds change over the sea, never the same from one minute to the next over the distant Scariff and Deenish Islands, while listening the sheep contentedly chewing the grass, watching the lambs jumping. The silence is all encompassing and such a subtle blessing we have forgotten to miss it.

the winding single road through the Gap of Dunloe

It feels possible-essential to slow down in place where the days start with lambs bleating, waves lapping and (a blessedly late) sunrise and end with lambs calling from bunches of reeds as they settle down for the night and stars piercing the vivid night sky. A car can be seen coming a mile off because there are no lights. One night I watched a farmer search for a sheep who was lambing, I imagine, as the car lights remained on high above on the road and the flashlight traversed the hill below nearly a mile away, the only manmade lights piercing a sea of darkness.

Here a neighbor warrants a long conversation, and someone from away like me is news so the car is pulled over and we talk at length, because there is time and there is value in connection.

Without the ceaseless visual and audio noise there is finally space to just be human. To be a part of nature’s time and cadence. This is a place which focuses value upon the things of real worth in life, in nature, the land and in people. In real moments of connection and of calm within oneself.

Derrynane Beach and House

I will live in a place like this soon, off the path where values are different. I have taught myself to play the game, to chase the golden ring. But ever since I was a kid it was clear that I wasn’t really a believer. I would rather spend time connecting with animals, observing nature, and knowing my neighbors (likely in that order if I’m honest) and not overvaluing material things. The fast and noisy lane is a trap that I fall too easily into, but it cannot bring happiness; chasing career success, monetary achievements and material goods. When in a place like this the mind and body are settled and finally connected. 

So all-encompassing is the silence here, that one morning as I sat on the rocks in front of the cottages with my coffee I heard a sigh, a watery release of air. It was so clear and close, it felt like it was beside me.  But I know that sound, it was a whale releasing its breath as it surfaces. I scanned the water near and far for a few minutes until finally I saw the whale break the surface and heard it breath again, feeling just as close, although it was hundreds of feet away off the cliffs upon which I sat. It surfaced twice more and dove. I watched this, the only human viewer a few more times, three breaths and a dive, until I stood up, giving thanks for the extraordinary moment I had been given and went inside to get my camera to go for a walk. 

If ever there was proof that when we slow down, simplify, and disconnect we gain more than we lose this was it for sure. And daily I experienced moments like this in Ballinskelligs.

Company on a quiet lane, Ballinskelligs

the night sky above the cottages, Kerry is a Night Sky Preserve