On the Western Coast of Ireland, lies Doonbristle Stack, a towering cliff that rises like a lonely giant from out of the Atlantic Ocean. Here at this lonely juncture, the Atlantic meets the Irish coastline to create a stunning isolated cliff scenery. This lonely cliff rises hundreds of feet like a Poseidon god to clutch above a deep blue sky. The cliff is surrounded by constantly pounding whitewashed waves that seem as if eternally beating to a primordial ocean rhythm. Standing on the mainland looking across at this wonderful sight one is overpowered by its awe-inspiring size and loneliness. It fills the emotions with an innocent wonder and curiosity about its presence. Questions rush the mind as if one was on a roller coaster grasping for breath, wondering if one could climb the rugged broken sides to a green patch of grass on top. Wondering when in the past, did it come into existence? When was it part of the mainland and why did it break off? Why does it stand alone as if holding back the ocean from the mainland? What wonderful species of life has made it their home?
The green patch on top sits like a flat hat against the ragged brown and grey rock that line its sides. In the sunlight, it seems timeless because it has not changed over the centuries. Its silent isolation does not immediately appear cut off from the mainland but independent on its own. First impression is that of a strong rock giving off spiritual echoes as it stands against natures elements alone and undaunted. It bristles with life; birds land and fly from its ragged rocks. Sea guiles in their nestled nests where life explodes and the air filled with their cries. A gigantic alienated cliff standing against the might of Atlantic gales, the barrage of windswept erosions and the hidden decay only time sees.
It is a singular landscape reflecting the mindscape of a people. A people that echo the same story not in rocks but in words and images. Rugged gray pot marked rocks from weather beaten erosion constantly change shape and color. Unfolding new vibrant hues from the varied shadows cast by rolling clouds. Any observer would immediately identify with the captive souls in Plato’s Cave where images of reality are seen in fleeting moments from the sun’s brilliant waves. At a distance, it appears small but one becomes aware of the limitations of perception and illusion of size. The whipping and lashing of waves against its base reinforces in the observer its aloneness. The surgical cut sides lashed by rainstorms yet, warped in a soft ocean mist make it a sacred space. A space where the infinite and finite tangently meet and cross paths. White bellowing clouds that race across the sky bring the top green to life as the shadows reflect upon it. Like sterile images, they come alive when one flips pages so that they become like a dynamic verb. The message of this space raises its voice in a magic of presence. One may well wonder weather the observers are looking at this cliff or the cliff observing the observers?
Its geologic story unknown and its memories secret but still it unfolds its snaking rock ridges into ones awareness. It is like a visual symphony with its presence of a dynamic sky, wide-open ocean, isolated birds, and this solitary cliff. In its superb view, the observed is the observer embedded in a bond that links both of them in mystery. If magical creatures ever did exist than surely it was on this isolated but beautiful cliff. Created by a hidden hand to show a mystical atmosphere undaunted by time where the ugliness of iron and concrete are unknown. The small green top bears testament to a rain blown richness where grass seen is beyond ones touch. An untouched “spot” that provides a feeling of sacredness emerging not only from the Irish wilderness but also from the human spirit.
The cliff is a story of a torn past, yet ancient in its vibration to flow within ones soul. A glorious sight evoking a sense of who we are, and of the nature of human character. Questions of nature are issues of identity that we observe in power, strength, and wonder. Like the observer, it is a place formed and informed by the soil, rocks, sky, and sea. Life fashions a cliff observed by the human spirit in a divine union with nature. In the many forms of rock, sky, sea, and land, one encounters a beauty that questions the truth of aesthetics itself. Doonbristle Stack Cliff mysterious in its twisted shape rising from the sea, yet so unconnected to the body of land it clings gravely to. Like the human spirit, we also are individualistic and alone against the forces of our times. Can we stand alone in character and power as the force of history is windswept across our culture? Knowing that underneath the watery ocean of the landmass rock connects and the barriers of water are false boundaries. Man also belongs to a bigger reality that connects him in love and human community. His struggle is to overcome and see the false boundaries the separate and divide him.
The green patch on top sits like a flat hat against the ragged brown and grey rock that line its sides. In the sunlight, it seems timeless because it has not changed over the centuries. Its silent isolation does not immediately appear cut off from the mainland but independent on its own. First impression is that of a strong rock giving off spiritual echoes as it stands against natures elements alone and undaunted. It bristles with life; birds land and fly from its ragged rocks. Sea guiles in their nestled nests where life explodes and the air filled with their cries. A gigantic alienated cliff standing against the might of Atlantic gales, the barrage of windswept erosions and the hidden decay only time sees.
It is a singular landscape reflecting the mindscape of a people. A people that echo the same story not in rocks but in words and images. Rugged gray pot marked rocks from weather beaten erosion constantly change shape and color. Unfolding new vibrant hues from the varied shadows cast by rolling clouds. Any observer would immediately identify with the captive souls in Plato’s Cave where images of reality are seen in fleeting moments from the sun’s brilliant waves. At a distance, it appears small but one becomes aware of the limitations of perception and illusion of size. The whipping and lashing of waves against its base reinforces in the observer its aloneness. The surgical cut sides lashed by rainstorms yet, warped in a soft ocean mist make it a sacred space. A space where the infinite and finite tangently meet and cross paths. White bellowing clouds that race across the sky bring the top green to life as the shadows reflect upon it. Like sterile images, they come alive when one flips pages so that they become like a dynamic verb. The message of this space raises its voice in a magic of presence. One may well wonder weather the observers are looking at this cliff or the cliff observing the observers?
Its geologic story unknown and its memories secret but still it unfolds its snaking rock ridges into ones awareness. It is like a visual symphony with its presence of a dynamic sky, wide-open ocean, isolated birds, and this solitary cliff. In its superb view, the observed is the observer embedded in a bond that links both of them in mystery. If magical creatures ever did exist than surely it was on this isolated but beautiful cliff. Created by a hidden hand to show a mystical atmosphere undaunted by time where the ugliness of iron and concrete are unknown. The small green top bears testament to a rain blown richness where grass seen is beyond ones touch. An untouched “spot” that provides a feeling of sacredness emerging not only from the Irish wilderness but also from the human spirit.
The cliff is a story of a torn past, yet ancient in its vibration to flow within ones soul. A glorious sight evoking a sense of who we are, and of the nature of human character. Questions of nature are issues of identity that we observe in power, strength, and wonder. Like the observer, it is a place formed and informed by the soil, rocks, sky, and sea. Life fashions a cliff observed by the human spirit in a divine union with nature. In the many forms of rock, sky, sea, and land, one encounters a beauty that questions the truth of aesthetics itself. Doonbristle Stack Cliff mysterious in its twisted shape rising from the sea, yet so unconnected to the body of land it clings gravely to. Like the human spirit, we also are individualistic and alone against the forces of our times. Can we stand alone in character and power as the force of history is windswept across our culture? Knowing that underneath the watery ocean of the landmass rock connects and the barriers of water are false boundaries. Man also belongs to a bigger reality that connects him in love and human community. His struggle is to overcome and see the false boundaries the separate and divide him.
