Day 129 - Crazy Lady but did I make it?

Thursday 9th May

 

I am delighted to report that, in this case, determination is all I needed as I got right to the top of Glen Ashdale and the viewing platform over the falls.  The climb is always worth it and the recent rain made the falls all the better.  It might have taken me longer than I would have liked but I am not sure that really matters.  I never doubted I would make it because from the moment I woke this morning I could see myself up there.  Visualisation has been an important tool in my life and especially recently.  I don't see myself as someone being wheeled about and lifted from one place to another.  That said, I no longer see myself as the dancer I once was.  I do, however, see myself walking, swimming and getting out and about under my own steam.  I may not have has any doubts but that didn't take away from the moment I reached the top.  I was completely thrilled.  Over lunch in Coast I told everyone I had walked up to the falls, whether they knew me or not!  Crazy lady. 

With Jan here I have less time to blog because it would seem rude so I always planned to share some of my writings from the Creative Arran project during these few days.  Yesterday we learned of a journey well taken involving a little red dot on a stunning canvas.  Today is the second part of that piece when I reached the destination.  Lochranza castle is a very special place indeed.  History seeps from its walls and I always have a feeling that I am being watched.  With time alone in the castle I just sat and let the story find me.  Only after writing the piece did I do an in depth study of the history of the castle and discovered that what I was sensing might well have been part of the build up to the arrival of Robert the Bruce.  Whatever I felt I do know that the story found me and I was pleased to put the words down.  I am not sure what you will make of it.  It might be another Crazy Lady moment for which I apologise in advance. 

 

 

Lochranza Castle – Stepping into time.

It is all stone.  Old, cold stone that, on first approach, it is about defence and protection.  I can imagine a time when you would feel safe inside the old, cold stones. I couldn’t imagine, however, feeling at home.  But then it all changed.  As I eased the heavy metal gate open I stepped in and, instinctively, closed it behind me and looked out.  I looked back the way I had just come from.  Some of my best images come from looking back.  In looking back at the world outside the castle I felt at home.  As I stood in that space, I dare not even turn.  I could feel the history and I could hear the voices – they were in every cold stone.

Suddenly, in a desperate hurry, I captured my images.  My camera needed to find these voices and record them, least I forget.  Round every corner was a new voice, rushing by in pursuit of their day.  I felt like I was intruding so I kept to the edges and let their day unfold.

It was clearly a busy day and a day of preparation.  I could feel it in the dank air and I could smell it in the stones.  Bodies moved between the rooms at speed and I stepped out of the way several times.  It was the stairs where it was important to take care.  The recent rain had made them wet and slippery and I could smell the rain everywhere.

Still the voices echoed in every tiny space and still I moved.  I visited all the tiny spaces and I heard all the drama.  Much was still to be done to be ready and the tension hung in the air like a heavy weight ready to crash through the open roof. 

I looked up into the sky through the walls and I could feel the protection encircle me and hold on very tight.  I held on very tight as a body brushed past me and I whispered ‘sorry.’ I was sorry if I was intruding.  I never meant to, I just wanted to see inside.  Not for one minute did I think I would hear all this noise or feel all these bodies.  Heavy dresses scuttled up the stairs as these new women held them above their ankles.  I so didn’t want them to fall.  Why were there so many stairs?

 

It was then that I paused to study the layout and I could understand more about this day I had entered.  Much of the movement was from in and out of the kitchen.  It was one o’clock, it was lunchtime.  I sat at the edge of the kitchen and waited.  I wasn’t disappointed.  Soon the voices came from all around, all telling their part of the day.  I couldn’t smell the food, just the ‘after the rain smell’ but I didn’t mind.  I was there and that was all that mattered.  I was part of this day and I was part of them. 

The voices dulled and the light returned.  I hoped that they were ready in time because they had worked so hard.  For that brief period their voices and their bodies had filled the castle once more and I had felt at home.  As I left the castle I no longer saw old, cold stones.  I didn’t even see defence or protection.  I just saw lives ebbing and flowing through their day and into history.  My visit was now part of history and I was proud of it.

 

 

As my little red dot climbed out of Lochranza I looked in my rear-view mirror.  The greyness had returned as if closing the door on a very special place.  It was a privilege to have been part of that place, even for a short while.  I began my journey home.

 

Crazy Lady?  Until tomorrow. xx