From the moment our boat pulled up to Sherkin Island we were mesmerized with enchantment. All that surrounded us now was the wild North Atlantic Sea and the feeling of isolation, of chosen seclusion. It was invigorating, that strangely addictive view. For we were witnessing the same sight of nothingness that mankind had observed for thousands of years. It overflowed with fierce energy, rough seas, deep waters and an entire world of foreign creatures we could only dream about. A few sharks swam across the top of the ocean, their fins pointed up high as they marked their territory, telling all that whatever came through was theirs to feast. But we weren’t scared. We felt alive being able to look at their secret world, one where only the brave dared to enter. The cold breeze numbed any fear that could arise within us and it crisped the tips of our noses, kissing us with strength. We returned their embrace with a warm breath from our mouth, exhaling our energy back into the air; this was our way of marking our space too.
We collected our things from the boat and walked along the pebbled road. The Abby stood on our left, a magnificent creation that was built in the 1400s. The colors of dead stone against the vibrant green life was inviting, and we stood for several minutes, watching how something that had been built so long ago still stood strong upon the land, withered with age, yet it defeated many storms, looking just as beautiful as it did once upon a time.
We arrived at the house by foot and after unpacking our bags in our rooms we settled in nicely. Drinking hot tea, we created a fire and warmed up our bellies. But the beauty of the ocean was calling me once more, and I leaped from the warmth of our home to enter the world beyond.
I crept up to the edge of the shore quietly and watched as life erupted around me. The clouds weighed heavily above, moving hurriedly, they raced each other across the sky. Molding into each other and separating again, they displayed the most extravagant shades of grey I had ever seen. Every second they changed textures as they expanded in great depths and collapsed with whimsical flair. Their playful dance reflected the madness of the ocean beneath them. And as I peered upon the gallivant performance I wondered — how did it all begin?
The eeriness of the sky ignited electricity inside me, and with pleasure I watched as my surroundings revealed the answers within. For when the clouds pranced across the sky, I realized that it was the almighty wind who breathed life forward. He was the conductor, the maestro, the chef of the orchestra who inspired the world to move in chaotic movements and in perfect harmony.
It was He, the invisible hand of the wind, who carved out the waves in the ocean, and it was also He who lifted the clouds high above. And as the air travelled through the trees, the branches sang in tune too, moving back and forth they knocked their sticks together, drumming to my heartbeat. The long green grass swished in response, as though applauding such wondrous enchantment around them, and as all the sounds of life sang with glee, I felt insignificant, completely unnecessary, as I watched such a miraculous world perform around me. The depth of their beauty triumphed over any creature. They were the creators of life, and without them we would disappear. It was evident, that we were just merely visitors upon their sacred Earth.