Posts Tagged ‘fionn’

Renowned for his wisdom, Solomon had spent half his life pursuing wealth, and another large chunk pursuing wisdom, and when asked which was better, he replied:

“The fear of God.”

I think Solomon might have had it wrong.

Bold words I know, but when you think about it, he could have at least articulated himself a bit better.

I think he got it wrong.

Neither wealth, nor wisdom, nor fear of God is better.

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The second he put his thumb in his mouth, he knew it. The instant he put his thumb, burnt from the salmon of wisdom, in his mouth, he was in trouble. It wasn’t so much that Finnegas would be angry. Finnegas was too wise to be angry. No, Fionn was in trouble because Fionn was now Fionn. Fionn was now Fionn with all the wisdom of the world, with all the wisdom of Fionn. Nothing would be the same ever again. He could not stay at the river with Finnegas any longer. He could not stay with Fionn any longer. He knew too much. He was in too much trouble.

Cormac mac Airt was in trouble.

The moment Cormac mac Airt saw that mysterious youth on the green, was the precise moment when Cormac mac Airt was in trouble. The glittering branch could have been named “Troubles Herald”. Ahh, the sweet red of trouble in those the nine apples. Cormac was in trouble. He was prepared to pay any price for that trouble, the price of trouble.

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Sometimes, being human is too big for religion.

Sometimes, all I want to do is listen to Fionn tell me about the sweetest music of the world.

There has been a lot of ruckus going on lately. A lot of growing and outgrowing. All around me I hear people saying the same thing… I’ve outgrown this or that, I’m in limbo, I don’t get it anymore… To some, both those who say it and those who hear it, this is a cause for dismay, to others amusement. Some, like me, silently nod their heads in empathy.

All I can say is that maybe I’ve outgrown the need to know if I have outgrown anything or even if I have grown at all.

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At times the singing voice of Mananaan Mac Lir rises above the din of the sea to reach my ears in a symphony of longing and serenity.

At other times, the din of silence drowns his voice out. At times, the noises of my thoughts chasing and bleeding into one another destroy all sounds, and strain as I might, I cannot hear the singing.

Perhaps this is the way it is supposed to be. Perhaps not. Perhaps I am on the wrong path. I don’t know. All I know is that this is the way it is, for me, currently. I have to start where I am. We all have to start where we are.

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