From one medieval monastic establishment, to another. We went to Clonmacnoise for evensong on Sunday. During the summer (or perhaps the ‘not-winter’ would be more accurate) a service takes place in Temple Connor every Sunday. Parts of the church date back to the 8th century and it is beautiful, though cold. Much colder inside than it is outside.
We were early so we walked around outside for a few minutes before the service. I’m afraid to say that at the time I was less absorbed by the place and more by the strange man with a huge cross round his neck who kept spitting at things. (Why? Why?)
But looking back at the photographs I’m reminded how tranquil a place it is, and wonder which came first. Was the meadow where St Ciarán founded his monastery in the 6th century so peaceful and calm (and that view of the river!) that he knew it was the perfect spot; or is it the perfect spot because 1500 years of meditation and dedication have smoothed away all the rough edges? It is a truly still place.
No comments:
Post a Comment