Horizon Event

Richard White (Ricardo Blanco) muses in his latest post about losing ones’ self / oneself while walking in the hills, as if crossing that invisible line to another state of being or just an altered awareness of the world (so well imagined in celtic tales) where “..where my self ends and the world begins..”

Reading this put me in mind of one of the most popular of Welsh englynion (this one the work of Dewi Emrys):

Wele rith fel ymyl rhod – o’n cwmpas
Campwaith dewin hynod
Hen linell bell nad yw’n bod
Hen derfyn nad yw’n darfod.

Dewi Emrys (1881 – 1952)

{Roughly and hastily translated, (there must be better out there!)}:

By this feint, surrounding us – like a wheel’s rim
Strangely we’re spellbound;
Old line afar nowhere found,
Old border without bounds.

Marc Evans

We walk always towards the horizon, but never reach it. If climbing the steep slopes of Wales’ mountains, what you think is the top you are about to crest dissolves as you reach it, out of breath, a new skyline rising, perhaps beyond stamina’s reach.

I recall once climbing towards Aran Fawddwy, pausing again to consider whether to press on as the sun was setting, heart pounding, when there was a moment that caught me – as if hanging in the air, suspended high above the valley and dizzy with the freedom of the moment, tempted to leap higher with the larks!

The journey down brought me to my knees, in every way…

Gadael Ymateb

Rhowch eich manylion isod neu cliciwch ar eicon i fewngofnodi:

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