Here is a simple diary entry from the day I visited Cuthbert’s Island, just off the shores of Lindisfarne…
Life is not defined by the number of breaths that you take, but by the number of times your breath is taken away!
On a whim, and with a sense of urgency, I decided to to walk over to Cuthbert’s Island from the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. (The urgency due to the incoming tide).
This was a good decision as this is, to date, the thinnest place on which I have ever set foot upon. This saintly man, Cuthbert, at this point in his life being so famous; yet on the island all I had was an overwhelming sense of, ‘I want to be alone!’. Perhaps the impending pressure of, not his achievements, but the veneration by others, of him and his achievements were pressing in like trying to blow up a balloon inside a milk bottle.
Then as I left the island and stood in the salty water watching the gentle currents of the incoming tide, a new feeling. Not just “I AM”, but also “I AM PEACE”. It was simply beyond all comprehension.
I now sit on the shore as the sea now completes a ring around this small rocky out crop of basalt, this is now a island in the true sense. A place of isolation. No food, no water, no shelter, no company apart from the big bumble bee that saw there. Just you and your Creator. You can keep all the great Cathedrals and ruined Abbeys, This is a Holy Island!
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