Holy Well

The sacred and the seekers

Dear Ones,

Ever since I was invited to sit with mortality via my diagnosis, I have felt the veil between the worlds thinning. I was particularly aware of this during the months of chemo when I didn’t feel very good most of the time and spent lots of time just sitting and reflecting. I am not aware of this permeability at every moment these days– since I feel better, I am busier with the wonderful, ordinary minutiae of life which distracts from reflection.

There are times when this awareness enfolds me. There were many of these moments when I traveled in Ireland. One place I experienced this was at holy wells. This is the story of one well.

varieties of holy wells

We could see by the forecast that it would rain all day on our anniversary. We had planned a daytrip with views which would be hidden in the rain. It was okay though, because what we really needed was a slow, quiet day of respite, which is how we happened to go for a long walk in Killarney National Park.

We met red deer from the last remaining indigenous herd in Ireland who have been a part of this very land since Neolithic times. We stood in the embrace of huge trees, each one of whom had stories to tell. One tree’s limbs curved down to the ground forming a cocoon around her trunk. I would have loved to spend days resting in the energy of that space. A rainbow reached across a field touching the ground so close to us that we could have run through it.

red deer, tree embrace, rainbow

And of course, we found a holy well.  Holy wells are found all over Ireland. Some have had stone walls and steps built around them and are well marked for visitors. Others are on private lands, known only to local folk, though you can ask to access them if you know where they are. Some are marked, most are not. It is entirely possible to just happen upon one in your travels.

The way to this holy well was marked with a tiny sign that said simply “Holy Well” with an arrow. We turned and walked through a field towards the woods on the other side. Entering the woods, we saw a tree, marked with a cross. As we approached, we saw a stone at the base of the tree with two hollows (bullauns) filled with water. This was the holy well. I knelt, dipped my fingers in the water and touched my face, welcoming any healing energy that the well offered. We paused and just stood in the presence of the well, of the tree, of the memory of other pilgrims.

Walking around the tree we saw a piece of cloth tied to a branch, evidence of another’s visit. When the cloth dissolves, the visitor’s prayer will be answered. Or a pilgrim’s prayer was answered, and they returned to tie the cloth on the tree. Stories, practices, origins about any holy well have many answers, with all being possible and none being right.

Later I learned that this well is known as Cloc Mo Cuda or St. Mochuda’s well. There is an old story that tells of a monk who went walking and followed the singing of a robin.  He knelt down and fell asleep and stayed asleep there for 200 years.  The prints of his knees remain in the stone, thus the stone of Mo Cuda. Stories like this were told to identify holy wells with Christian saints, or practices, but these same wells existed long before Christianity, as did their holiness.

A holy well is a place to connect to the Divine, to the holy, to another world, the other side. Is that what makes it holy? Maybe. Or maybe what makes it holy is the generations of seekers that have come to the water, to this spot seeking connection, healing, hope. Maybe it is layer upon layer upon layer of prayers whispered at the well, or the stories of healing passed through generations. Maybe it doesn’t matter what makes it holy, so much as it matters that there are still places where we pause to connect ourselves to what is sacred, and to seekers across time.

I wish I lived in a land of holy wells, and I ponder where our “holy wells” might be. Perhaps deep in a redwood forest, or a particular spot on the edge of a river, lake or ocean. Do you have holy spots that you return to? I’d love to hear about them if you care to share.

Thanks for being here.  Please share this with folks who would be interested.

Wishing you connection to the sacred and to the seekers.

Love,

Maija

Song of the Week: Down to the River to Pray by Allison Krauss. This traditional American song tells a story that could have easily been set at a holy well.