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| Grass Moths
I was walking alone over the hill towards the monastery. Down to my left I could see the strong tidal roost separating this isle from the neighbouring land and on this quiet, windless, Orcadian day I not only saw, but could actually hear the tide-tumbling as it rushed past Seal Skerry beyond the schoolhouse, now ruined since the last crofters left this small island a hundred and fifty years ago. Eynhallow is Scotland's forgotten holy isle where, in a past existence, I had stayed for long periods studying seabirds; now I go for personal retreat to the monastery ruins.
It was in such a frame of mind that I was there for two days – alone - and as my stride brushed through the long hill-grass my mind was already attuned to the voice of God, heard in myriad places in a myriad languages and nuances. Everywhere grass moths flew up from beneath my feet and my knees, little brown things fluttering away to another more peaceful patch of vegetation; and somehow I was moved to mull over the purpose of their existence.
They do have a reason, a purpose for living - as a necessary part of the web of life, each component inter-dependent on others, each very much needed to maintain the essential inter-relationships between plant and insect, predator and prey, holding together the food chains on which all life depends.
These moths are as much a 'purposeful' part of the divine plan as is Man, for whom inter-dependence, one on another, is also the key to survival. No-one can truly live in isolation; those who do so, as solitaries, live prayer-full (and thus very connected) lives - on behalf of others.
With such thoughts in my mind, those grass moths (or was it God?) began to speak to me about the purpose of my own life, presently at a cross-roads. On the 'Royal Road', we are to Live in truth to our deep selves, just as we are. We are to Live in a connected way, that we might help others to Live.
But more.........
....human souls, created in the image of the Divine, are also called to Enjoy Life (like the seals playing over there in the water beyond the skerry) and to acknowledge and glorify God - the provider and nurturer of all.
And so I reached the monastery where, in the twelfth century, Cistercian monks lifted their hands and voices in Kyrie and Sanctus, worshipping God on behalf of humanity as they lived their lives in island isolation. But in their interceding for a world as troubled then as it is now, they remained totally in touch with that humanity – each element needing the other.
As I climbed the steps over the wall and walked towards the roofless nave, a Curlew called over the hill – and I had no doubt at all that eight centuries ago those same tides sang and grass moth ancestors flew for the monks - as they, like me, entered the chancel and stood in silence, alone …. but in touch with the whole universe.
Paul Heppleston
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