Happy Saint Patrick's Day!
Today I wanted to share the second of two installments about pilgrims and pilgrimages.
In Part 1, I wrote about the pilgrim's journey, specifically that magical transformation from searching to arriving.
And today, being Saint Patrick’s Day, I want to invite you to join me at Tobar Phádraig—Saint Patrick's well—where together we can discover those magical intersections between realms that define true pilgrimage.
The Intersection of Realms (Connecting to Pilgrim)
If you recall from my last message, during my retreat to Ireland last year, we visited the home and art studio of Richard Hearns who showed us many paintings, two of which made a distinct impression on Seneca and me.
Seneca was enthralled by Idyll but I was immediately taken by the painting Pilgrim.
So much moves me about this painting, especially the image of the pilgrim and the illumination behind the figure. To me, this image feels like an arrival.
But what moves me the most about this painting is the intersecting lines, something that’s become a major pillar of my personal spiritual understanding and my teachings.
The idea of intersecting lines could be summarized like this: The Universe exists as a balanced paradox—seemingly opposite things all belonging to one large Singularity or Oneness.
Since we all belong to the Oneness, because Oneness is our True Nature and opposites are anathema to this core Oneness, whenever there is perceived opposition, it’s an opportunity to step into the fullness of our being and begin to explore that situation in a Both/And way. Whether it’s about politics or relationships, career or education decisions, even getting along with our neighbors, there is a magic in exploring the place where seemingly opposing lines intersect. Responding rather than reacting to the human experience of opposition in a way that mirrors our greatest intelligence, the Beingness of our Oneness, is the most beautiful representation of intersecting lines. When two seemingly opposite things come together, they can create a new third thing, something magical and larger than the sum of its parts.
There’s always magic at the crossroads.
My work, especially with Yoga Nidra, explores that fascinating crossroads between our humanness and our beingness in our birthright and majesty of what it truly means to be a human being. It explores the intersections of waking and dreaming, spiritual and physical, self and Self, and self and other.
One of the things I teach in my Personal Renaissance retreats and walking tours in Tuscany is the Leonardo DaVinci illustration of the Vitruvian Man, the human being as the perfect example of intersection of realms e.g., the circle and the square.
It’s often at these intersections, at these crossroads, that magic happens. Sacred wells are potent examples of this kind of magic.
Sacred Wells as Intersections
Asking permission to enter Tobar Phádraig
Both times that I’ve made my own pilgrimage to Tobar Phádraig, I’ve been accompanied by spiritual giants—Norín and Moley—mother and son duo of poets, writers, and singers—and none other than poet, author, and speaker David Whyte himself.
Both times we were led along this stony pathway that overlooked the barren landscape with a view of the Atlantic ocean off to our right. We followed seemingly endless lines of fences made from the natural flagstones so replete in this landscape.
After about 30 minutes of walking, there’s a break in the wall off to the left. Norín invited us to stand at the threshold between the road and the pathway leading to the well, and in our hearts ask the land and spirits permission to enter. Doing so, then taking a step onto the short path that leads to the holy well, it felt like stepping onto holy ground.
Saint Patrick
At the well, it is lush, verdant. Quiet. There are ribbons hanging in the trees with names on them, people who are sick, dying or dead. Generations from time out of mind built a stone basin in which there’s a scattering of coins. Statues of saints and plaques with pictures of family members, living and dead, watch quietly from alcoves.
Standing at the well, we were invited to make our own prayers and supplications, tie our own ribbons to the trees, and toss coins into the well. Then song and poetry sealed our prayers to rest in that holy place like bright coins scintillating in the well.
Intersecting Saints, Sinners, and Leprechauns
While standing at the holy well, David Whyte recited his poem, Tobar Phádraig, and prefaced the poem with both a story and history about the well including the spiritual and mystical landscape of Ireland.
David Whyte explained to us a little about the original people who lived in Ireland. Before the current people conquered Ireland, the original inhabitants had been living there for thousands of years. There are sacred burial sites and dolmans in the area that are at least five thousand years old. He explained that what is now Tobar Phádraig has been a sacred site for millennia and long predates Saint Patrick and the Catholic church.
The original people of Ireland had reached such a high level of harmony between themselves and nature, that they were truly enlightened beings. When the people who currently live in Ireland came to take over the land by force, the original inhabitants were in such a completely different place consciously and spiritually that it’s said that when they saw the conquerors coming, they simply turned sideways into the light and chose to live in a different realm.
Patrick McCormack
It’s said that those original people still inhabit the land but make up the mythical and mystical landscape of Ireland in the form of elementals, spirits, leprechaun, and the like. I can tell you with a straight face that having been there it’s very easy to sense these beings in that landscape.
I’m not alone. When we were in Ireland, we were also treated to a beautiful walk around the Burren with farmer, rancher, and environmental activist Patrick McCormack (check out this beautiful documentary about him). Patrick is a very practical man who has a beautiful and profound relationship with the land. He also told us frankly that the spirits and elementals of that area have rules that must be followed if you want your work on the land to go well. He explained that even the farmers and ranchers who don’t believe in these spirits still abide by these spirits’ rules … you know, just in case.
I’ve since learned a little more about Saint Patrick, that when he was preaching at what’s now Saint Patrick’s well and admonishing the non-Christians to join his johnny-come-lately church—we are talking 433 CE. Well the non-christians weren’t having it and started throwing rocks at Saint Patrick. Having been there, I can attest to the preponderance of hand-sized stones in the area and it's clear that they would make effective and easy ammunition. Well, it’s said that Saint Patrick threw his staff down on the ground and it turned into many serpents who drove all the non-believers away and that’s how christianity came to stay in Ireland.
Then, David Whyte told us another story about when christianity was more established in Ireland. St. Kevin, a hermit and founder of Glendalough monastery was known for his deep connection to nature and animals. It’s said that one day he was praying with his hands outstretched, supplicating the divine, and a blackbird came and rested there. So St. Kevin prayed longer to allow this bird a little rest. Well, the blackbird felt so comfortable there that she nested and laid an egg there. Kevin then remained in that position until the fledgling was raised and both birds flew away.
So now knowing more about the history and intersection of saints, sinners, and leprechauns, here’s David Whyte’s poem, Tobar Phádraig. Listen to how David Whyte masterfully intersects all of these intersecting elements: past, present, and future, christian and pre-christian traditions, inner and outer landscape, body and spirit, as well as the author and reader. Plus I hope that you’ll understand the references a bit better after the stories he shared.
Tobar Phádraig
By David Whyte
Turn sideways into the light as they say
the old ones did and disappear
into the originality of it all.
Be impatient with easy explanations
and teach, that part of the mind
that wants to know everything,
not to begin questions it cannot answer.
Walk the green road above the bay
and the low glinting fields
toward the evening sun, let that Atlantic
gleam be ahead of you and the gray light
of the bay below you, until you catch,
down on your left, the break in the wall,
for just above in the shadows
you’ll find it hidden, a curved arm
of rock holding the water close to the mountain,
a just-lit surface smoothing a scattering of coins,
and in the niche above, notes to the dead
and supplications for those who still live.
But for now, you are alone with the transfiguration
and ask no healing for your own
but look down as if looking through time,
as if through a rent veil from the other
side of the question you’ve refused to ask.
And you remember now, that clear stream
of generosity from which you drank,
how as a child your arms could rise and your palms
turn out to take the blessing of the world.
The Alchemy of Presence
I recently returned from a personal pilgrimage to Colombia. Having visited this retreat 6 years previous, an experience that afforded me with both the most difficult and the spiritual experiences of my life up to that point, I returned because I felt called to. I craved the further light, spirit, and wisdom that this sacred healer facilitates so ably.
In short, I craved a solid dose of the divine. I went into this recent pilgrimage with some trepidation because I know that often such encounters are as much of a violation as they are revelation, that just like Richard Hearns’ paintings suggest, there’s a journey through the darkness to arrive at the greater light.
Even though I prayed to be spared from the darkness—hoping that I had somehow paid that price at the previous retreat six years ago and that this one could be all rainbows—the darkness came nonetheless. Something needed to be born from within me and it was not gentle. Nonetheless, as anyone who has experienced giving birth in any form may attest, this kind of genesis is the pilgrim’s journey—the pain leading to the beauty or the light.
Many things came through me during the ceremonies in Colombia but one of my deepest insights was about the alchemy of presence. Past and future, myself and other—all merged into my being at this moment. I felt as if I was humanity giving birth to itself, healing itself, and strengthening itself. It was one of the most spiritual, affirming, and beautiful experiences I may ever have in my life, an experience that opened my eyes more fully to the Oneness that exists in all of us.
Like I mentioned previously, it dawned on me that there’s a sacredness to the pilgrim’s hunger and searching for something over the next horizon but that eventually there will come a time along the pilgrim’s journey when the pilgrim arrives “at the ground at their feet and learns to be at home.” I believe that this often, this kind of arrival happens when we encounter intersecting lines, the paradox of vertical and horizontal, physical and spiritual, you and me, or frankly any other apparent opposite.
It happens when we realize that this very moment—even as you read these words—is the moment you’ve been waiting for.
This is it. You’ve arrived.
Invitation
I invite you to join me for a pilgrimage on my next yoga retreat to the French Riviera, June 7–13, 2025 where we will explore that intersection of humanness and beingness, of ocean and land, spirit and culture.
I only have a few spots left so please jump on this today.
You’ll love:
Daily all-levels yoga and meditation by the ocean
World class beaches
Immersing yourself into the culture of Nice and Monaco
Wine tasting and food tours
Chill days at the beach
Amazing new friends
Beautiful personal discovery
Follow the rainbow over to my website and register today to save $200 with this one day only discount code: POTOGOLD. No tricks from leprechauns but the deal goes away tomorrow.
May we all, for the love of saints and sinners alike, “turn sideways into the light” and “turn our palms out and take the blessings of the world.”
You are a blessing in my world.
Namaste,
PS In the spirit of Saint Patrick’s Day, below are links to two different Irish musical groups, both of whom I’ve had the pleasure of encountering while in Ireland. Enjoy!
