Very beautiful basalt formations on the island of Staffa, which we briefly visited.
The six angular forms do appeal strongly to me.

This place is called: "the hermits cell" altough probably there never was a hermit, it was just to collect the sheep. It is said to be a magical place and it did indeed feel like it. 

When I was sitting inside that circle life just felt so perfect and so very beautiful, I did feel deeply grateful for having the opportunity to experience this. And then there was a wave of new ideas of possible projects. 

Making handwritten en illuminated little booklets, study music, enjoy the cosmic connection which I can feel here, paint the colours I see with that. Create a house anywhere in this world with a joyful lighthearted energy, A house where people love to come, feel uplifted and leave inspired. Sing, sing, sing, study the prehistoric and celtic history of Scotland. The spiral and knot patterns. Enjoy the company of plants. Spend a longer time to really dive in this energy.... Listen to old trees. All this make me feel drunk with joy.

Life is a fabric of dreams, beautifully interwoven, connecting everything and everyone. I remember dreams from long ago and how they are woven in my day to day reality now.

I did pick up a book from the shelves in the house and read a short description about fairies. They are like humans in appearance it said but living inside the earth. The dominant colours in their appearance are brown and green tones. Most humans do not see them. Humans who do see them are changed after that. They are neither good nor bad. The experience of time is totally different in their world. When you have passed in short time with them hundredts of years have passed in the human world.

Again that different time experience attracts my attention. 
It all sounds very familiar and with my imagination I can easily visualise what they look like. I like those different beings and different parallel worlds.

I also read a story of the seal-people. Who are seals but can also drop of their skin and appear as humans. I remember I had a dream of a seal man some years ago and shortly after that when I was swimming in the sea a seal did come very close to me. But when I became afraid of what might touch me under the waters he disappeared.

How different this pool is from the ones I saw on El Hierro where purple and light green were the dominant colours. Both created by the Atlantic ocean.

​We meet in a house build around 1930 by a Lady. She described her new house as full of light and fresh air, a joyful and peaceful place. It is indeed like that.
The furniture and objects she chose are all still there, the good literature she has been reading, her guestbook, family photos. Probably it is her photo who looks at us when we are sitting at the dinning table. The ambiance she has created tells a lot about her sensitivity, her love for nature, stones, shells, plants, artworks on the wall. She feels very familiar altough she did live in the generation of my grandparents. It is as if you can still hear her breathing and  her fingerprints are everywhere. 

It is like a timecapsule. I wonder why there are so many places in Scotland where the time moves in that particular way, creating islands.... and where the 'visible' and 'invisible' worlds are so close to each other.

Most of the time there are about ten persons in the big house close to the sea during this week. We have gathered around a birthday party. For me it is like hanging out with unknown people in an unknown environment, being together as a family but also be completely free to do whatever you like. Moments of silence, moments of joy, moments of sharing small things form our lives, cooking and eating together. Evenings with a burning fire warm and cozy, feeling comfortable and safe in good company and music.

Music touches me so deeply, especially human voices. There is a strong intention to sing again and to learn more about music in the years to come. But when I want to sing so much emotion rises up that my throat can't do it anymore.

Till we arrived in that ancient chapel on the cemetery, lying totally silent in the long summer evening light, a small candle burning. A swallow which has its nest there flies in and out, the thick stone walls are centuries old. In that place my voice finds its freedom again effortlessly. 

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