Cast Away Into Her Rising Tide

Heeding the Call

     The last time I was in Ireland was with an Emerald  Rose bus tour. We drove by a sign that said “To Conor Pass,” and I felt drawn to it for some inexplicable reason. The following day I rented a bicycle and decided to find out what was calling me. My oh my, was I in for a rude awakening.

  The path up to Coner Pass was steep and a winding and narrow road. I had been quite the cyclist in my 20s, but I was in my early 40s. It was a long way to Conor pass-  a long exhausting way to Conor pass. I had to get off and walk my bike now and then up to Conor Pass. It took so long to reach the top. Once I reached the top, though, I was in for a revelation. Exhausted, I sat and lay on the ground and looked at what glory was around.

 Exploration

     It was so beautiful. I felt very close to the great mother. It was a saddle between two mountains. Looking down, I could see the harbor of Dingell beautifully sunlight, yet where I stood was overcast. It seemed the clouds were whipping by just above my head- almost as if I could reach up and touch them. They were flowing very fast but eluded my grasp. It was a very liminal feeling, space and time.

      And then a string of words came into my heart and my head. I had nothing to write it down. Four stanzas were coming whole cloth word after word and line after line and stanza after stanza, but nothing to write it down with or on. I just kept repeating every word to myself over and over again. I got on my bicycle and started down. There was no peddling- only breaking, and I zipped down as fast as possible. I was constantly repeating the lines over and over again, chanting each syllable like a spell. When I reached the bottom, I went to the very first store I could find, bought a notepad and a pencil, and scribbled the lines down precisely as they had come to me, while my legs reminded me of the price I had paid for these verses. There they sat as a poem for five years.

Echoes drew me from the dawn
up sylvan hills by will and brawn
in lecturing winds, my strength but gone,
the pass around me lay

Ancient voices in the mist
Answering nature’s lyricist
I hear my inner voice insist
I cast myself away

Surrounded by Her glory seen
Her rounded hips lay full and green
The Voice of here and in between
cries that She holds sway

By verdant breasts of ancient youth,
by wisdom’s thumb against my tooth,
so bound by unrestraining truth
I cast myself

If time should fade this moment’s hold
through doddering steps as truth laid old,
I’ll loose Her names, a kiss retold
and wake this pagan play

Percolation

     I was washing dishes one day, and suddenly the chorus began to flow into my head for the song. I didn’t realize what the chorus was for, but then, I suddenly did. The poem had not been at the front of my thoughts for years. I started plucking out the guitar and had a song two days later.

Cast away into Her rising tide
Her greening Earth–hearts opens wide
Feel Her singing light the dim
with pagan grace and nature’s hymn
Stand in the wind
Let your spirit rise up
Cast away

If time should fade this moment’s hold
through doddering steps as truth laid old,
I’ll loose Her names, a kiss retold
and wake this pagan play

Propagation

      You can go to my Patreon page via the link if you want to hear the audio. Don’t worry; you don’t have to subscribe to listen to it. I put up a remastered version. https://www.patreon.com/posts/cast-away-into-70687132  For me, the song has always been about trusting the goddess’s call to nature and following it. And in reward for the quest, being rewarded with mystery and revelation. Whenever I doubt a gut feeling to follow “the call,” I remember this day and pursue it. I don’t think I would have been ready for the magical moment at the top if I had driven up. It is usually about the questing and not the answer. Follow where She leads. What is your quest today? Listen, and walk the path to the end.

I leave you here with one more gift. I’m back in Ireland right now, and another stanza sprang forth.

Many steps I’ve taken since Conor Pass
And twenty years drained down the hour glass
I remember that voice as I lay in the grass
Her glory on display

Once again I’m back on Ireland’s ground
Walking once more on her verdant gown
I here Eire singing, come dance the round
And cast myself away.

Live well, and in wonder

For more information about Arthur Hinds, including his collected articles here on Pagan Song, his bio, and links to Arthur’s sites on the web, check out Arthur’s author page here on Pagan Song.