The Cliffs of Insanity

As I listen to the magickal music of that day, I think of him and how his deft hands ran so smoothly over the surfaces of his musical instruments, how he could move his fingers independently of the others. He showed me the exercises he did to make that happen. I was agog at his talent and his soft-spoken voice, when he did speak. He was a mountain of a man, hair all in the right places, with a long mane to top it off. Kilted, he looked the role of a Highlander, and I was enamoured even more deeply than I though I could be. I would be so happy if I could wrest these memories from my mind and be done with the mourning over not being a part of his life. To know you're not needed or wanted, to be told that, is a blow to your spirit. It's a wound that never quite heals...an emotional staph infection.

In 1997, I experienced something I didn't even believe in - love at first sight. The pictures I've uploaded here are from that period of time, probably when I was at my happiest ever. Funny how things can change in just one lifetime.

( friends, music, and love )

So there you have it. Like I said, happier days indeed.

Oh, nice! I found this whilst waiting on a major file transfer to finish up (still waiting). This poem is from 1997, or 1 BSE (Before the Sith Era). I was in love. No, I wasn't just in love. I was hopelessly in love at first sight even! Of course, we're dealing with Humanity, so things turned out badly. Ah well.

I'll Sing His Song

When I looked into his eyes and saw his spirit there
Dancing in tranquility like down in Summer's air
I fell like leaves from maple trees and plunged into his heart
To rest in fragile symmetry no grief could tear apart.

I'll sing his song unto the moon, the Lady silver bright
And cherish every melody he heralds in the night
No light is keener 'mongst the stars that shimmer in the sky
Heaven's gentle symphony shines sweetly in his eyes.

©Tracy A. Evans
21 October, 1997

I can't believe I was ever that big of a ninny. But I was, and here's the proof. I'd rather shove a spork in my eye as to ever have gone through any of that.

Tonight's the night Aunt Tudi, Llew, and I are going to see Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance or, as I like to call it, Hoofin' It. Llew is kind of *meh* about it, but Aunt Tudi is beside herself with outright joy. Since this is her birthday gift, I'm very happy she's so out of her head about it. I get the feeling that she may not have too many birthdays left, so I want to make each birthday something special.

This evening will be very difficult for me. The music for Lord of the Dance is very heavily marked with memories of Alban Hefin 1997. Ronan Hardiman scored a moment in my life that was incredibly magickal and filled with the promise of a Bealtainne kiss. It was his music that carried me out into the endless farm fields and meadows around Fountain Inn, where I followed the Harpist. The music of Lord of the Dance rang in my mind's ears while I was kissed under the Summer Moon.

There was so much promise in that lingering kiss and the ones that followed, all to the lovely strains of "Stolen Kiss." "Celtic Dream" ribboned it's way through my world, as my newly technicolour vision continued to light my path on this beautiful night, a song that began on Bealtainne that grew only more beautiful and more vivid on this beloved Alban Hefin. My Harpist was kissing me. He, who made such painfully lovely Celtic music himself, wrapped his massive arms around me and became my Lord of the Dance, setting me upon a path that would lead me eventually to a singular sorrow.

A year later, in 1998, I couldn't hear this music without bursting into tears. Actually, I had trouble hearing any Celtic music without my heart feeling as though it were being crushed under a relentless weight. Over time, my love for the music has outshone my grief, but the music from Lord of the Dance still carries with it that pristine moment in time and, along with it, the regret that was soon to follow. My spirit falters still when I hear it.

So tonight will be interesting to say the least. I don't want to ruin the experience for Aunt Tudi, nor do I want to show Llew how much I still grieve over the Harpist. This will be an exercise in keeping my feelings to myself, needless to say. I'm just hoping I'm a good enough actress to do just that.

They want to put music to a poem I wrote for their harpist a long time ago when I was so in love, I was out of my mind. Oddly they weren't known as Selkie at the time I wrote the poem and their new name was suggested by the harpist himself.
Odd how things cycle around....

SELKIE
The soul of the Selkie I see in your eyes,
the depths of the oceans, the dream of the skies,
the mystery of ages, the holiest strains of
the chants of the sages in the November rains.

On cliffs above Greymere I seek out your song
weaving an ebbtide and floating on foam.
You answer me graciously with stormclouds and wind
and the music of nature your sea lions send.

So beautiful are you O Son of the Sea!
Calling the wave forth to crash unto me.
The spirit, the vision, the magick I hear
for the love of the Selkie on the Cliffs of Greymere.

(c)11 January 1998