HOLY CROSS MONASTERY, ROSTREVOR NI
Dublin is a beautiful city full of restaurants, young people and coffee shops on every corner amid stunning old architecture, monuments and memorials. The ethos of the city center with its museums, schools, hospitals and banks is eclectic and could be taken as a miniature Chicago or New York.
On Friday I boarded a bus heading an hour north and don't ask me where it began to change, but Northern Ireland NI (the northernmost 1/4) and the Republic of Ireland the 3/4 of the south--though on the same piece of land are miles apart in more ways than one. My travel book tells me there is a Protestant majority in NI and a Catholic majority in the south. I am old enough to remember their bloody feuds. In Dublin the currency that came out of the ATM was the Euro while here it is British pound Sterling. The hustle and bustle of the city gave way to grazing land, trees, and frams as far as the eye can see. There was no noticable border to be crossed of the official sort. But the crossing was palpable.
The bus that carried me out of Dublin dropped me in a town called Newry where I'd catch another bus to the very, very, small town of Rostrevor. On arrival I asked a local merchant where to find a bank to exchange/cash out money to British Pound Sterling...it seemed reasonable. Imagine my surprise to find that there are no bankis is Rostrevor... but two ATM's. The ATM in the back of his store laughed at my ATM card from 5/3rd. I'll have to remember that. But with a bit 'o Irish luck, the ATM at Sloan's Store cooperated. With a little help from the cashier at Sloan's she pointed me down the street to the yellow painted building that said -- you guessed it -- SLOANS on the mailbox. There I would find the taxi -- Mr. Sloan, driver. I rang the bell and taking one look at my overpacked suitcase he said: "Goin' to the monastery, are ya?" It seems us monastery junkies are his best customers. Off we went on the mile and a half ride up Kilbroney Mountain to Holy Cross.
In case you're wondering where heaven begins, its here. Along with the abundance of natural beauty, the monks have gone out of their way to improve on perfection. Around each corner there's another nook or cranny tucked away with beautiful attention to natural details...a babbling brook, a surprise splash of color of an abundance of flowering plants, several secluded artist-touched benches hidden in grennery. One after another place of prayerful solitude to pause, to ponder, to sit and wonder and wait for the God Who delights to reveal Himself to any who seek Him. To steal a line from Field of Dreams. Is this heaven? No its Rostrevor.
Everything was at the monastery but internet access...indeed it must be heaven. (I'm in Cork this evening)
Beauty seemed to be emerging as the theme of the early part of my journey. What is beautiful where you are? Does God use beauty to speak to you? What beautiful something can you thank God for today? Before these few days as Holy Cross... I was a little surprised that John O'Donahue (one of my favorites) right before his death had written a book simply titled BEAUTY. But since he resided only a little ways west of Hoyl Cross, it doesn't surprise me anymore. BLESSING, BEAUTY AND JOY, Kathleen Bronagh Weller...THE CELTIC MONK
P.S Here in Cork we are staying at the University of County Cork. They have computers for us to use... but I can't share pictures. I'll post them when home.
On Friday I boarded a bus heading an hour north and don't ask me where it began to change, but Northern Ireland NI (the northernmost 1/4) and the Republic of Ireland the 3/4 of the south--though on the same piece of land are miles apart in more ways than one. My travel book tells me there is a Protestant majority in NI and a Catholic majority in the south. I am old enough to remember their bloody feuds. In Dublin the currency that came out of the ATM was the Euro while here it is British pound Sterling. The hustle and bustle of the city gave way to grazing land, trees, and frams as far as the eye can see. There was no noticable border to be crossed of the official sort. But the crossing was palpable.
The bus that carried me out of Dublin dropped me in a town called Newry where I'd catch another bus to the very, very, small town of Rostrevor. On arrival I asked a local merchant where to find a bank to exchange/cash out money to British Pound Sterling...it seemed reasonable. Imagine my surprise to find that there are no bankis is Rostrevor... but two ATM's. The ATM in the back of his store laughed at my ATM card from 5/3rd. I'll have to remember that. But with a bit 'o Irish luck, the ATM at Sloan's Store cooperated. With a little help from the cashier at Sloan's she pointed me down the street to the yellow painted building that said -- you guessed it -- SLOANS on the mailbox. There I would find the taxi -- Mr. Sloan, driver. I rang the bell and taking one look at my overpacked suitcase he said: "Goin' to the monastery, are ya?" It seems us monastery junkies are his best customers. Off we went on the mile and a half ride up Kilbroney Mountain to Holy Cross.
In case you're wondering where heaven begins, its here. Along with the abundance of natural beauty, the monks have gone out of their way to improve on perfection. Around each corner there's another nook or cranny tucked away with beautiful attention to natural details...a babbling brook, a surprise splash of color of an abundance of flowering plants, several secluded artist-touched benches hidden in grennery. One after another place of prayerful solitude to pause, to ponder, to sit and wonder and wait for the God Who delights to reveal Himself to any who seek Him. To steal a line from Field of Dreams. Is this heaven? No its Rostrevor.
Everything was at the monastery but internet access...indeed it must be heaven. (I'm in Cork this evening)
Beauty seemed to be emerging as the theme of the early part of my journey. What is beautiful where you are? Does God use beauty to speak to you? What beautiful something can you thank God for today? Before these few days as Holy Cross... I was a little surprised that John O'Donahue (one of my favorites) right before his death had written a book simply titled BEAUTY. But since he resided only a little ways west of Hoyl Cross, it doesn't surprise me anymore. BLESSING, BEAUTY AND JOY, Kathleen Bronagh Weller...THE CELTIC MONK
P.S Here in Cork we are staying at the University of County Cork. They have computers for us to use... but I can't share pictures. I'll post them when home.
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