The car ride reminded me of the countless trips I’d taken with siblings and friends to see the Lake Erie or Edinboro sunsets. The wind rushing in struck a reckless tune of freedom and spontaneity. I didn’t realize I craved those lost moments until this ride, when something much vaster than myself called from the earth and sky.
When we made it to a parking space at the base of the mountain, and when we began hiking, we had to cross metal pool ladder contraptions that kept grazing sheep from getting out of fenced in plots. This was a fun experience, and I was immediately thrown by my expectations for a hike, which helped me to be present and expect surprise. The hike led us up sloping and hilly terrain that was angled at a 45 degree incline at some points. As we climbed and stopped for breaks every so often, the sky's blue dimmed to a deeper magenta.
Three-quarters of the way to the top, there was a lookout point and half of the group stayed back to watch the sunset from there. After hiking so far, and wondering if I was going to die or if I was just really out of shape, I knew I had to make it to the top of the mountain. I'd convinced myself there were sheep just on the other side, and had to know what it looked like from the precipice.
So, I kept walking. Even with the wheezy inhales, red-faced and all. This hike was not for the faint of heart, since we were trying to race the sunset before it dipped beneath the horizon. The further up the hill, the smaller the paths became, until they were small enough only for sheep and I had to walk between low shrubs following an invisible tightrope. I definitely had to tap into the mountain sheep mindset for a few hundred meters.
Near the top, I stood near the other side of the mountain, taking in the landscape of Dungarvan, its neighboring ports below, and the mountaintops surrounding us. I was captivated in the bliss of silence and awe of the landscape that, when I felt a pair of eyes on me, I literally jumped. Looking down, about 50 meters away from me, a ram met my vision eye-to-eye. I heard "There's a sheep!" come out of my mouth before I'd thought to speak. We tried to get a little bit closer but spooked him and his friends away.
At the top of the mountain, there was a cross memorial upon a loose rock hill. The sun was an artist, fanning its golden liquid over the strata of the sky. It was so peaceful, and we even met another hiker who told us to stay at the top until the sun left, otherwise we'd miss the sunset, and who sang a lullaby line ("The sun has gone / and so must I") from The Sound of Music when darkness settled over the approaching night.
On the car ride back, the open windows howled with chilled night air, I thought about how much this experience reminded me of the ones where I got to make music and hang out with loved ones around the sunset. I'll definitely create more time for those adventures when I return home.
Now, I know we're supposed to connect this to Irish literature, but this moment reminds me so much of the power of context, so I want to quote T.S. Eliot's poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." Taken out of context, this stanza speaks to everyday moments and anxieties, but reframes them to mean the exact present:
"And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea."
In these hundreds of moments surrounding our memories, there's a hope that there will be time to make new choices. Even if I don't have the people I used to go sunset chasing with, there's still time for "meet the faces that you meet," and time "for a hundred visions and revisions." What matters to me is that I can live these moments in suspension of the anxieties and expectations, embracing the new, old, and everything in between.
That's all folks!
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