Cashel and a memory long forgotten under Cerulean Skies...

From the top of Cashel I changed my attitude. Instead of stopping at every moment setting up a picture, I put my camera away. I walked, following mysterious paths. I dodged the tour group. It's hilly. And a weird thing happened: I enjoyed it more than any other site.

Experience it first, then take photos, haha.


Suddenly I imagine myself here long ago with someone, a childhood friend maybe? We're running and chasing each other and it's like a vision. Maybe more of a feeling, an echo if you will.

I feel compelled to go down the hill. I feel drawn, like a pulled string, yet I'm on the other end doing the pulling. Awkwardly balancing my camera bag and tripod, I stumble my way to the open green field. I see a 'z' shaped my shrubbery in the distance, no doubt marking farmers' property lines. I imagine the power one must have felt centuries ago when a sire or lord could walk out on the Rock and eye his subjects and territory. With blue skies and grazing sheep in the far hills. There's something about seeing what you have, even if it's nature's and really nobody's, but other people agree that it's yours because you're strong and can defend it. It's not even a human thing, it kind of extends from animal behavior, marking territory and such. Humans take it to a new level.

See? All this goes through my mind with one glimpse from Cashel.


So I'm drawn down the hill and I'm almost convinced I'll find something. But what? A familiar face? Her? No she can't be here. Go away memory, why does it keep coming back, here of all places?


I sense I'm close. Down the hill to the side.

My intuition is very precise, I am a kid playing on the hill with her down here by the wall. I sense comfort, peace, and I don't know why.


I come to the very spot I feel drawn to. The string loosens.



A grave. It's small and unmarked. There's a mini wreath next to it.
Next to it are two bigger graves.



A man and his wife. Graves that have descriptions of year of death, and 'survived by his wife who died in year xxxx, his daughter who died in year yyyy,' etc. Hmm those etchings were added as people died. For a sense of completeness maybe. Family was your identity back then.

Especially when people lived shorter lives.

I wonder what soul called me here, maybe the daughter is buried in that tiny grave. Maybe she triggered a memory of mine, or maybe it's just coincidence..