A Year Apart.

I was wondering when it was that I became aware of my love of empty places. I suppose there never really was a moment or time or place when I became aware. The truth was I had always been a bit like that from the beginning of my memories. I always liked, and needed, to be alone. I was thinking the other day there that if I had been born now and been as I was then somebody would have labelled me as having aspergers.

As my life moved on I more and more realised that if life was to have any meaning I had to play my part within it. So I compensated, I became the one with the self confident air. The centre of every conversation, the instigator and mover. The more I acted this out the more it became reality. I found myself surrounded with people instead of alone as I would rather have been.

I spent almost a complete year living on the small Island of Iona. This island lies off the coast of Mull and from it can be seen the Dutchmans Cap Island and the famous Staffa with its Fingals Cave. During the winter months the population of the island was in total about 80. In the summer its youth camp and abbey would increase this into the hundreds.

As I look back I am aware that this year was an important turning point. From this point on I was to be in both of my future careers, a leader and motivator. The shy person became the preacher, the loner became the teacher and friend of students.

As I grow older I again find myself withdrawing to the places of still and emptiness. The need to be at one with myself becomes more and more important. My walks and runs have become my solitudes. But I will never forget that day on the beach on Iona when I became aware that each of us in our own way is a part of this wonderful universe. That we each have a part to play, a contribution yet to make.

We who are in the business of creating art are very fortunate people. We can be alone and yet we can convey to others the beauty that is around them.

The poem about that moment on Iona is on my other blog. Before you go there I apologise for the clumsy words I just hope they express the inner feelings and the need to paint that Island as often as I have.   Iona

Stolen Moments

The students in the monastic community were studying under a very wise sage. One of the students loved to slip out at night and have a wander round the town, something that would be frowned upon by the wise old sage. The student used to climb over the wall at the back of the garden so that he would not be seen leaving. One night the old master was checking on the dormitories and noticed the young student’s absence. He walked round the wall until he came upon the stool that been used by the student to get out of the garden over the wall. He removed the stool and stood quietly meditating under the wall.


When the student returned he placed his foot on the masters head and jumped back down into the grounds. On landing he discovered what he had done and stood in shocked silence.

The wise old sage said, “It gets very chilly of an evening. Please be careful you do not catch a cold.” He then left very quietly. The young student thought for a moment. He never ever crept out at night again.

I lived on the beautiful Island of Iona for a year when I was trying to teach myself enough to be able to pass the examinations that would allow me to enter university. I had been living a fairly wild and hectic life up until then and living on a dry island (an Island with no bars or places that sold beer) was to say the least a learning experience. I had to work on the restoration of the Abbey during the week and for this I was given my keep and a little pocket money. On a Saturday a tourist ship anchored in the sound and allowed its passengers time to come ashore and to visit the abbey. Now and again I and another young man used to slip out to the ship and have one or two ales. On one particular Saturday when we arrived back on the jetty at the village of Iona, standing on the jetty was Lord George McLeod the founder of the Iona Community, and the person responsible for the rebuilding of the abbey. I thought I was in for big trouble but all he said was, “The beer on that ship is a bit expensive I must be giving you too much pocket money.” That was my last trip to that ship all summer.

It is possible to encourage people to greater things without giving a long lecture or being censorious. We artists are often the worlds worst for saying too much and in the process discouraging others to progress. Positive and to the point. I remember a teacher who I am sure knew his subject as well as any. His trouble was he never used three sentences when twenty three could be found to say the same thing.