Anam Cara

When I was studying in Germany, I missed the West of Ireland and especially the wild callings of the ocean. In Tübingen one felt in the centre of the European landmass. The ocean was so far away. Driving home after my first year, I was excited at the prospect of seeing the ocean again and when I finally reached Calais, there she was. Suddenly, tears overwhelmed me. I began to cry. I had absolutely no warning that this would happen but I began to realize how deeply I had missed the ocean. Without knowing it, my body had been lonely for the sound, the sight and the effervescence of the ocean. The Irish word for the ocean is feminine: an Fharraige. In the musical sequence of its syllables, you can almost hear the buildup of a wave, and then it disperses in the ‘ge’ like the fall-away of an outward breath.

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MOVEMENT IS A SIGN OF LIFE. IT IS INTRIGUING THAT THE presence which has the most grace and swiftness cannot be seen, namely, the wind. In the Hebrew tradition the word for wind, ruach, was also the word used for ‘God’. The wind has power and huge presence. It symbolizes pure freedom. In the New Testament in a conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus likens the way of the Holy Spirit to the rhythm and energy of the wind; it is presence as spontaneity:

The wind blows wherever it pleases; you hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. That is how it is with all who are born of the Spirit.

JOHN 3 : 8–9

To dwell in new spirit is to enter a complete spontaneity of direction; this is a voyage of trust imbued with passion – any destination is possible. In phrases like this we glimpse the wild heart of Jesus.

At times the wind has a haunting, poignant music. When it rises in the night and shores against the walls of the house, it sounds out a great loneliness. Perhaps the wind achieves poignancy because it has no name. It is nothing and from nowhere. Yet its cry is almost a voice and sounds as if the sorrow of stone and clay, of the dead or those seeking birth, has somehow become a force of emptiness. Their longing has transformed their nothingness into a cry. This atmosphere of wind has unreached realms of longing. It is a keening that no mind could ease. At other times the wind is utterly buoyant, rousing and refreshing. When you walk into that mood of wind, it cleanses your mind and invigorates your body. It feels as if the wind would love you to dance – let you surf its undulations and steal you away from the weight of your body, casting you hither and thither like the shimmer of dust. Such wind is wild with dream. One of the loveliest images of earthly movement is how a bird plays among the high geographies of wind-force, soaring, sliding and balancing on its invisible hills and waves. Before ever the human mind became fascinated with the rhythm, structure and meaning of movement, the birds knew how to enjoy and play within the temporary landscapes of the wind.

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ANIMAL MOVEMENT CAN EXHIBIT WONDERFUL GRACE. ANIMALS have a native closeness to the earth and they move in the sure rhythm of this belonging. This shows the dignity of animals. They enjoy an inner composure and coherence. The serrated confusions of the human mind are not their burden. Animals have fluency of presence.

Cats are a joy to watch. They rarely walk without rhythm. They relate to space fluently and gracefully. A cat moves as if his body were not an object but an unfurling gesture. He inhabits a sureness that seems deft and weightless. And at times even the daintiest kitten can assume the regal aura of the tiger. The sense of movement is often more graceful and beautiful in the wild where animals have not been intruded upon, or forced into the brittle world of domestication.

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THE HUMAN ANIMAL MAKES THE MOST COMPLEX MOVEMENT. IN ITS every gesture the long, upright body of a person is weighted with consciousness. More often than not the inner gravity of thought is heavier than the gravity of the clay. Being invisible, thought does not take up space. Yet sometimes there is nothing as heavy as a thought. A deeply troubling and painful thought can load the body with the dead weight of a stone. The body is never merely an object among others. The indwelling of mind makes the body somehow luminous. The simplest body movement is always more than itself and it becomes the outer language of our hidden, inner world. It is quite astonishing how helplessly our bodies speak us out, how the language of the body bears the unique signature of our individual difference. Each of us moves so differently. We look differently and reach towards things distinctively.