29 June – 6 July 2024
David Whyte is a genius and a deep, humble, mesmerizing storyteller who weaves magic with words, adventures into the wild, and introducing the gifts of many local people in western Ireland. I had the privilege of joining David and 34 others for a pilgrimage week in the Burren and Connemara areas of Ireland in County Clare – along the wild west coast. Based in Ballyvaughan, we visited many of the areas where David and his good friend John O’Donohue hung out. It is impossible to capture the depth and significance of the experience David and his team choreographed: David reading his poetry and Consolations pieces in his vivid storytelling and contextualizing way, vocal and instrumental music always present, walking the sites where David has written some of his best poetry and hearing him recite it there, hearing stories (and music and poetry) of local culture and history from many visitors steeped in Irish life, evening music and poetry and conversation around a fireplace with fantastic food and company.
I'm tempted to stop right here and not try to name many elements of the experience, which would be impossible anyway. Our group had a life-changing experience. People who have walked on holy ground are sometimes dumbstruck and can’t speak for a while – or perhaps should not speak too soon …

David Whyte in front of Corcomroe Abbey ruins where John O’Donohue held outdoor Easter services.
David wrote Blessing of the Morning Light in honour of John, linked to this place.
‘The blessing of the morning light to you,
may it find you even in your invisible
appearances …
may what is hidden in you become your gift
to give, …’
So here I am, balancing a tension, to share or not to share? I will compromise by naming a few key themes we sat with to whet your appetite to listen to David recite his stories and poetry through the many ways he makes it available online, or to read his books.
The essence is that David and his team took us to and created sacred holy ground, liminal space of deep reflection, and the unfolding and weaving together of a fun, vulnerable, emotional, true community.
The theme of the week was Parallel Streams, and particularly how there are hidden streams always available to us that we learned how to gain greater access to throughout the week. The opening lines of A Seeming Stillness invite observation,
‘We love the movement in a seeming stillness,
the breath in the body of a loved one sleeping,
the highest leaves in the silent wood,
a great migration in the sky above:’
And later we are reminded of hidden life forces that animate and move us,
‘We are all a sun-lit moment come from
a long darkness, what moves us always
comes from what is hidden, what seems
to be said so suddenly has lived
in the body for a long, long time.’
Parts of the poem Just Beyond Yourself became a repeated chorus,
‘Just beyond
yourself.
Its where
you need
to be.
…
There is a road
always beckoning.
…’
Outer horizons mirroring inner horizons … the outer world as a mirror for the inner world … over the horizon is something you can’t quite see … and that is calling you. You are not supposed to know what is below the (inner) horizon. Patiently learn the ability to live with and get comfortable with uncertainty. Pay attention to nature and what it wants to teach you and unfold in you in the right time. Don’t try to name things too quickly. ‘Lean against the interior line until it opens up for you.’

Group walking on the limestone Burren hillside sheep farm of Patrick McCormack: farmer, land activist, poet, historian, mensch. Learned much about Irish history, the Great Famine, 6,500 year old archeological findings of early inhabitants there, ways clan forts were structured to prevent raiders from taking children as slaves (!), burial sites, sacred mountains, etc.
Throughout the week we were introduced to and discussed the human conditions of pain, suffering, grief, uncertainty, paradox, vulnerability, death, discovery, joy, the power of nature, the many hidden resources available to us … the important stuff of real life, the substance of what true poet-mystics energize our lives with.
I said I would be brief, and unsatisfactorily so. I anticipate sharing more later and talking with some of you in person soon. Ask me about which local whiskey I thought was the best, or what my current favourite slip jig is, or why walking in limestone hills is so treacherous, or what makes the Ireland floral kingdom so unique. Tell me about your experiences in Ireland, or being a pilgrim on a journey.
It is far too early to speak about ‘what difference this experience made in my life.’ The repeated reciting and weaving of poetry does mysterious inner work. In my first coaching session today upon returning I unexpectedly read the poem ‘Coleman’s Bed’ out loud as it speaks powerfully to welcoming back with compassion all the discarded and unwelcome parts of ourselves – and patiently waiting for hidden inner resources to get strong enough to ‘float you out’ into the world. Everyone we met recited poetry by memory. It is a powerful practice and I have started memorizing one poem. I’m still a pilgrim on a journey, a joyous and hopeful pilgrim.
Patrick McCormack in front of living structures and graves talking about the population of Ireland reducing from 8 million to 4 million during the Great Famine of the 1840s and how
Irish people under occupation were treated by the British (left). Lively traditional music in Patrick’s living room! (right).
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