In the Temple of the Mother Goddess of Ireland

I couldn’t seem to leave. The hill had captured me. I had booked into the hostel in the foothills below for three nights, which turned into a week, which turned into two more days. I’d grab a coffee in the hostel cafe, then wander the hill until closing time before popping back in, “I’d like to book two more nights please. Actually, make it three.” The next day, “Can I stay for one more week?” Three weeks later I was still there, plotting a way to build a permanent structure under a gorse bush.

I was at the 6,000 year old Sliabh na Cailleach, the Hill of the Cailleach, in Boyne Valley, Ireland.

The Cailleach, whoever she was, seemed to call me to her each day. No matter my energy levels, I ran up the hill, pausing involuntarily with reverence before entering the gates that surround her great cairn. I knew that there was a subtle energy here, an essence that spoke of a wisdom long forgotten. This was clearly what is referred to as an anima loci, a place of soul in the earth, where the veil between the worlds is thin.

I came here seeking to witness the spring equinox sunrise from a stone circle. Where that lark had come from, I don’t know. All I knew is that what I was seeking was also seeking me, for the moment I stepped onto the hill a voice deep within promised, “You’re home.”