A writer and a singer pass each other on the road: Me and Ed Sheeran
Today, EdSheeran and my mother taught me a lesson in looking back. As groundwork, I am attending awriting retreat in Clifden on the West Coast of Ireland. Funny thing is, Ididn’t come here to write, really, but instead maybe to find a story, orinspiration, or something that I didn’t know I needed. Day one, I’m gettingcloser.
So, whatdoes Ed Sheeran have to do with this? Well, after spending the morning with abunch of writers and reflecting on life, stories, etc. and thinking of mymother, I decided, since I had nothing to write in the afternoon, I’d challengemyself to a nice long walk.
I didn’tknow how it would go because I hadn’t been walking except for the off and onodd time that I’d go for 20 minutes or so, but nothing like the “go big or gohome” notion that I had in that moment. I packed my backpack with water and myroom key, a few tissues and set out to find Clifden Castle and the great lookout.
I startedon a hill, simply because I had to go left and left entailed hill. I did okay,took my time and made it to the top. My heart and lungs were in symphony withthe elements. Or perhaps that was my illusion, because in reality, there wouldhave to be a hurricane on for that to be true.
On a flatstretch I heard footsteps behind me and looked back. Having a writer brain, Ibelieved it was better to look a serial killer in the eye before you die andyou can somehow bring holy hell on him if you should die, or maybe said serialkiller might change his mind once they made a personal connection or eyecontact.
No, I don’talways think of serial killers when somebody walks behind me in a strange land,but moments before I had noted all the large gate posts had four standingstones on top – assuming it was for north, south, etc., but I came to a cottagethat had large round stones on top of the gate posts that didn’t fit with thepicture. To that, I thought maybe I’d ask somebody if they were out in theyard. But, like you never know, it could be a serial killer’s house so that gaveme pause. But there was a patio umbrella. Did serial killers have patioumbrellas? I was working up the courage to cross the road when in the nextstep, I saw vans in the back yard that gave serial killer vibes so I just kepton going intent on not making eye contact with anyone in the yard. I had justescaped the grip of a serial killer – yes my mind works like that.
So that setme up to think of serial killers when I spotted the man behind me. I turnedagain going forward and he was instantly beside me. “Good afternoon,” he said.“Beautiful day.”
Did serialkillers really start with that. I figured I give him a chance. I could alwaysuse the throat punch move if he had ill intentions. Saying that, I am obviouslyoverstating any bravado I might have should the situation really arise.
Anyway, theyoung man looked familiar. He had a red beard, and over his hat he waslistening to music on really expensive headphones. Serial killers didn’t pay alot for such things. “Beautiful day indeed,” I replied as I sized him up tryingto figure out where the familiar was coming from.
He hadlifted the earpiece from one side. “I’m going to the look out,” I said. Then Itried not to give away my regret for saying that because he could go there andlay in wait for me because serial killers were crafty like that.
“Good foryou,” he said. “Me too.” So, I realized he’d made an assessment of my abilitiesin his “good for you” tone that was off putting in a way if I were somebodywho’d be offended by such a thing. Maybe I could see it as encouragementinstead.
“Enjoy yourwalk,” I said. He nodded and left. Now I was able to get my bearings. As heleft I thought of Ed Sheeran. That was who I’d been speaking to. Ed Sheeran wason the road. Darn, I missed the opportunity to get a picture with him. But hedeserved his privacy, and it was kind of him to say hello to me on the road.And he didn’t really have a tone. That was on me.
As Icontinued, there were several places to get off the road, paths to take and Iwasn’t sure how far the “look out” was, so I followed Ed, who stayed in myperiphery for a long time. I took some snaps and continued in my plod towardthe lookout which, at every turn and hilltop I was expecting to see.
By and by,Ed was out of sight, and I stopped to take a drink rather than trying to catch him.There were times he didn’t travel too fast, I doubted he was lingering so Icould follow him, and he’d have to come back, after all. But, writer brain, hecould be luring me to my death.
I digress.I laid the backpack on the rock wall to get my water bottle. I looked over. Belowme was Clifden Castle. I would not have seen it if I didn’t stop. Ed wassending me a message about paying attention to what was around me and not beingso focused on the end point that I miss important stuff. Thanks, Ed, understood.
I took somepictures, admired the view, and packed away my water bottle. I decided to keepgoing. I didn’t want to go back yet as my heart and lungs were becomingacclimatized to the distance and had settled. It was truly a beautiful day. Then,I came to a fork in the road and there was no sign of a lookout sign.
I chose thecoastal route. Ed crossed my mind. Which way would he have gone? Too late now,he was out of sight. Maybe, I had escaped a serial killer with my chosen path. Curiositykicked in now that I didn’t have Ed distracting me. Several times I saw a turnand wanted to see what was on the other side. Scenery was unbelievable. I saw asign that told me to be cautious of the bull, which I figured was an allegoryfor life. That made me smile.
Then Ithought of my mother and how she would have loved to be here. I wore mittensshe had knit, a purposeful take to Ireland because it was a place she’d alwayswanted to go. What would she want me to know? A blackberry thorn grabbed mymitten and stopped me. I looked out over a castle, the gorgeous ocean, thescenery, everything was just awesome. My writer brain zinged again and thoughtof what I’d seen by looking back, and by just simply looking. Was she tellingme that while it was good to look forward, there was also something to belearned and brought into the present by looking back. The castle had beenthere, I would have missed it by going forward, focusing on nothing else but EdSheeran. But the castle would be there whether I’d seen it or not. That’s thething about things you don’t appreciate or regrets you have for things youhaven’t seen. They are there anyway, with or without you.
I looked atthe hitch and realize we live a life of hitches. Mending them might be alooking back thing, a looking forward thing, but the hitch would have changedthe stitching no matter what way I looked. It was a beautiful hitch. Myfavourite colour had been pulled out. The hitch had happened, I could mend itif I wanted, and leave it as a reminder of that moment. Maybe I would. Twobeautiful memories of Mom and a gorgeous day. We often laughed at the scrapesshe got into of which this was definitely not one, but reminded me of thosemoments. That’s the thing about the little worries and disruptions, in therear-view mirror, they’re not that bad and are sometimes funny if you want themto be.
I had achat with a couple of ponies, a couple of donkeys, and then a lady and a dogmade their way toward me. I asked her about the lookout, the official one,because up to then everything I looked out over was stunning in an unofficialway. She confirmed I should have taken the other route and, though it was aloop, it would be long after dark when I got back if I had the energy to goaround. My mind did want to keep going, but reality said differently. I went tothe next turn and planned on going back. There was Ed, again. Making his waytoward me.
He stoppedand chatted. He’d been to Canada recently. I won’t give up his secrets because theyare his to disclose. We said our goodbye’s and off he went. He obviously didn’trecognize me (laugh really hard out loud). But, I let him go ahead a few stepsbefore I turned around and followed him to Abbyglen.
Before toolong, he was out of sight. I enjoyed the views on the way back. I thought ofMom. I saw things I didn’t notice in my going. That’s the thing aboutperspective. You go with what you go with at the time. I believe she walkedwith me. I felt her presence. I felt her peace. I felt a “letting go” of sorts.A past can’t be changed kind of thing where any regrets should be left, lessonsare all you can bring forward. I felt her kindness mirrored in me. I thankedher for being such a meaningful part of all that I am and all that I hope tobecome under her influence.
And then Edappeared again. Out of nowhere he passed me on the other side of the road. He’daccompanied me, being there when I needed him as a guide. He’d let me go as Iwalked back to Abbyglen. I could find the rest of my way alone. Thanks Ed.Thanks Mom. Message received.
Two hour walk, lots of pictures and inspiration. Writer brain engaged - maybe overactive. Writing is a cure for that.
Day two,what’s ya got?
