Bhí mé ar mo ṡuaiṁneas aran reilig seo ṫairis an loċ. I gar don cloċ bullán. I measc na leaca cuiṁneaċáin caiṫeaḋ ag aoiseanna d'aimsir Atlantaċ. Is áit ċoṁ uasal é ṫar Loċ Corr an Aoire lena ċrannóga, na dromanna réċnóċaċa , ⁊ an stair iontaċ d'áit le ainm bainteaċ leis an bandia Bríd. Tá sé ċoṁ spreagúil na uaiġeanna glasa ⁊ leaca cuiṁneaċáin a ṡiúil, cúpla mar cloċa as gort, gan dealbhóireaċt ⁊ curṫa in aġaiḋ balla na eaglais. Áit a luíonn coṁarsana úra i measc na daoine dúċais go deo, le ċéile ar an tír seo, ċan bhfuil olc anseo, luímid le ċéile. Le taiġde beag fauir mé amaċ faoi cloċ bullán tógálta sa bhalla na eaglais.
Bainfiḋ mé triail ċun é a ḟáilaċ in aisce. Beaḋ sé a leiṫéid d'aoibhneas le hé a ḟáil aċ bhí mé ċoṁ millte ċeana le crannóga a rinneaḋ ag mo ṡinsir sular ṫosaiġ stair san áit uasal seo, millte fosta leis an seaneaglais a ċuireann eaglias ar ais i mo ċeantar féin i mo ċuiṁne, tuġta le eiḋinn glas dorċa ⁊ a slí a croċann sé íseal, ag tabhairt foscadán ar an lá ceobhránaċ seo, insíonn sé go bhfuil slí aṁain a ḋul i saol dom.
Ar aġaiḋ go deo, ar aġaiḋ isteaċ insan Rún Mór. Is áit ársa amaċ is amaċ é seo, ṫug glúin ómós dó. Ṫaistil mé i bhfad ó bhaile an lá sin, aċ bhí mé ar mo ṡuaiṁneas ansin. Bhírúndiaṁair ann, d'airítí ag na scaifteite a ṡiúil na cosáin glasa ṫart ar na cloċa, airím é fosta. Sa talaṁ naofa seo cos Loċ Corr an Aoire, fiair mé áit ba ṁaiṫ liom cuairt a ṫabhairt air arís.
Tugtar Cnoc Bríde air, bandia gaelaċ luaṫ. Tá sé lonnaiṫe ar ċnoc ag aṁarc ar an loċ. Fuair Bríd ⁊ a clú ar fud na hÉireann a slí anseo i measc na dromanna réċnóċaċa Bréifne. Tarraingíonn an rúndiaṁair ar m'anam le níos mó a ḟáil amaċ faoinár seanslite, ċun tuilleaḋ a ḟoġlaim faoi slí bheaṫa ár sinsir, goideaḋ go danarṫa ag coiliniú.
Ennglish Translation:
I felt a quiet calm. On this graveyard above the lake. Near the bullaun stone. Amidst the tilting headstones, worn by the centuries of Atlantic weather. It is such a beautiful place here above Lough Corraneary with its crannóga, the rolling drumlins, the history of a place named after the goddess Bridget. It is inspiring to walk the green graves and unmarked headstones, some like field stones, unhewed and placed against the wall of the church.
A place where new neighbours lie amongst natives forever more, together on this land, no bitterness here, we lie together. A little research tells of a bullaun stone built into the graveyard wall. I try in vain to find it. It would have been such a treat but I guess I was so spoiled already, with the lakeside islands made by my ancient ancestors before history began in this gentle place, spoiled too by the ancient church that reminds me of a church back home, given to the dark green ivy and how it hangs low, giving shelter on this drizzly day, it let's me know that there is one only way to go in Life.
Ever forward, ever onward into the Great Secret that is Life. This is truly an ancient place, venerated by generations. I had travelled far from home that day, but I felt at home there. Where there was such a presence and divine mystery, felt by the flocks who had tread the green paths around the standing stones, I feel it too, a peaceful serenity. In this secluded holy ground by Loch Corr an Aoire, I found a place I wanted to visit again.
It's name is Cnoc Bríde ~ Hill of Bridget, after an early Irish goddess. The church sits on a hill overlooking the lake. Bridget and her popularity throughout Ireland had found her way here among the rolling hills of Breifne. The mystery pulls at my core to discover more about our ancient ways. To learn more of our ancestors life paths, cruelly robbed by colonisation. This is a thin place, where the veil between our world and the Otherworld is transparent.
