Northern Lights

In my life, the northern lights are the places where my soul can rest. That's why every summer i hear the calling of the green celtic moors. There, where distant sounds of pipes can be heard over the valleys, and the sun lingers low in shades of thousand colours before setting down to his short slumber, i seem to recognise myself, in loneliness.

Sweet loneliness and quiet. Peace of mind of the shepherd. But he is not alone in his mind and in his heart. The trees, the animals, the scarce encounters with strangers along the way, can keep his heart warm. Because like flowers in a desert, appear in their complete beauty and fulfill the senses. At night, the fairies of Lore, come near while he is sleeping, to keep him company in his dreams, hold his hand, while he sweetly cries until he becomes water and fades into the lake.

I'll be back there many times, in search of the standing stone of Ballycrovane, where the legends say that all the mysteries of the world can be understood. In that mystic place, at the extremest western gate of the continent, facing the misty perils of the Ocean, some local shepherds say that sometimes the wind turns into a melody, of the many voices of sailors of ere, vikings, greeks, spanish, latins, who dared the seas ... to reach another land.

We all have right to another land, if only in fantasy. Tolkien, Pullman, me, you, we are all bound by the same spell. And that northern light, if you look weel, you can see it in the eyes of the people you love. It's a light of tenderness and compassion. A light of hope and innocence, that we could leave in peace forever and never deny the children in ourselves.

Jack Bee - 1 march 2004