Are you here for the equinox?
Are you here for the equinox? They shouted at me across the field. I was not. But how could I resist an invitation like this?
It is my last full day on the Dingle Peninsula. Tomorrow, I head north to Galway and then to Ballyvaughan to begin my next great walk: trekking through the Burren, south to Doolin, then down past the Cliffs of Moher.
But today, I was doing what I so often do: trying to cram in as many memories and experiences as possible not to bear the burden of too much ROMO (Regret of missing out) once I left because who knows? This may be my last time ever being on the Dingle Peninsula, so by God, I’m going to see as much of it as I can.
The guidebook at my Airbnb told me that the valley next to the one I was staying in was home to the largest collection of ancient artifacts in all of Ireland. We’re talking about standing stones, ancient tombs, and all the things. It’s incredible how you can walk by someone’s front yard in Ireland and see some ancient artifact standing there. At one point, I was so perplexed to see three stones about four feet high in someone’s front yard that I shouted; Did someone put those there? And they responded, “Yeah— a long time ago. “
I had parked my car next to the valley's entrance and walked in about the same time as a couple with their baby in a backpack. As we walked past the gates and between the fields, a large bearded man greeted the couple and shouted over to me, “Are you here for the equinox?”
Usually, I’m fairly aware of the quarterly cosmic turnings of the sun, but this Vernal Equinox snuck up on me. I took his holler as an invitation and soon was tramping through the boggy clumps, making hurried introductions to the trio and wondering what sort of adventure awaited. We came to a little stream that would require a fair shake of balance and bravery to cross without getting soaked. And when I leaped onto the slippery rock in the middle of the stream, I found out just how slippery it was and just caught myself (but soaked my sleeve) before I tumbled head first into the drink. There was no turning back now.
We walked past a large flat rock at a 30-degree angle, which looked to be in a delicate balance with the world and its elements but, in fact, had stood in such a degree for thousands of years. Soon, we came to an entourage of 10, with me rounding out the baker’s dozen, all gathered around a monolithic tomb dating back to 32-3500 BC. The crew greeted each other with gladness and knowing; most were well acquainted, a few had traveled great distances to this site for this occasion, all at the invitation of the burly man who had reeled me in from the jump. They are a bohemian brood, with leather caps and wooly scarves; one woman wrapped in what looked to be the scavenged scalped fur of a muppet -she apparently the first victim/offering to the foreboding creek that nearly claimed me as well. Apparently, their hearty host had decreed this to be a day of cosmic gathering some months ago, and they all came. Some were from Dublin, the young couple was from Brooklyn, and others were from various places dotted around Ireland, but each was here to see this cosmic undertaking. Apparently, on this day (And ONLY on this day), when the sun shines down just before it’s setting, the back of the tomb will be lit, similar to the solstice sunrise in Newgrange.
But alas, as is ever so typical in Ireland, the cloudy skies would not part as we had all hoped they would to alight this ancient connection to miraculous light.
In the end, none of it mattered. What mattered to these lovely seekers was simply the gathering; they had come from far and wide at the behest of their bearded bard and made the most of their time together. The equinox still happened. Whether the light shone through or not, balance on the earth had been achieved. What mattered most was that these folks found their way to this ancient tomb to celebrate life, love, and connection, and in this, they found the balance they sought.
For me, I’m reminded that the risk is often worth it; the “yes” to the invitation rarely disappoints; and though there’s a slight risk involved (see: slippery rock, scalped muppet), even if the sun doesn’t shine exactly as we’d like it too, the adventure itself is worth the leap.