OPINION (AN COLÚN): Nature is a pathway to the divine and the eternal

OVER the weekend I was in a valley in the Slieve Blooms where ancient rituals may once have been held. Glenafelly is beautiful, tranquil and very few people live there. In the ancient world it was a much more populous place. There have been humans there for four millennia and two millennia ago there were possibly hundreds.
There are eight ringforts in the Glenafelly area. One of them is on the top of Knocknaman (Hill of the women), and they were immediately adjacent to one of Ireland's main roads, the Slí Dághla. This road was one of five main roads emanating from Tara. It ran southwest through Meath, the Slieve Blooms and into Ossory in Kilkenny and was in existence about 2,000 years ago.
I parked in the glen near a large block of quartzite standing in a field. Quartzite is an anomaly in the Slieve Blooms. It was probably brought here by the glaciers of the last Ice Age. Quartzite held a ritual importance for the Bronze Age people and it's almost certain that this block, which is known as the Fiddler's Stone, was imbued with this significance. It is probably linked with a Bronze Age passage tomb two kilometres away and two pillars of limestone standing 200 metres from the tomb. Knocknaman may also have had ritual significance, as evidenced by the fire-marked stones discovered there. 4,000 years ago there were perhaps funeral processions taking place between the quartzite block and the passage tomb.
For many years there's been a lovely 7km Loop in the glen which takes walkers into a remote, high part of the valley. The Loop passes through mature and semi-mature woods along river banks and on forest roads. The trail takes you along both sides of the quiet and remote river valley leading into the townland of Barcam at the top of the valley. The open lower slopes of the glen along the riverbanks contrast with the seclusion of the more heavily wooded upper section. I've walked the loop countless times over the years. If time is short it is an espresso shot of wilderness walking. In recent years it has suffered neglect, so much so that I don't recommend it any more to people. On Sunday the trail often disappeared underneath ferns and briars and the signposting was non existent at crucial junctions. A great swathe of the hillside was planted in the recent past with oak saplings and a number of the route's signs probably disappeared during that replanting work. While it's great to see all these oak saplings, rather than the ubiquitous sitka spruce, it's a pity that this trail has now become too adventurous for many.
As I continued along the route I passed the ruin of a cottage high in the glen. I paused and wondered about who might have lived here. Nowadays the place is very remote but in the 19th Century it's possible that quite a few families lived in the valley and you would have felt part of a community. As I ascended higher I paused several times to enjoy the views. Many of us are drawn to walking in the hills because of our love for the picturesque and to tune into a mood which transcends our daily cares.
Some of us are drawn to a sense of the spiritual in the landscape, in the same way that the marvellous painter Caspar David Friedrich was. Friedrich believed nature was pervaded by a transcendent resonance. When he painted his canvases his natural scenes were filled with silence and mystery. Friedrich wanted to express what he felt in nature. He wished to capture something of the mood of his soul when in the outdoors. His hills, cliffs, lakes, forests and fog are pervaded with human longing and God's immanence. He painted from the perspective of the soul looking outwards. The human figures that populate his landscapes have their backs turned to us, which invites us to inhabit their perspective, a perspective that enjoys contemplating the works of nature. His work makes us think of our own mortality, life after death and God's immanence in the landscapes around us. “Friedrich believed that nature was a pathway to the divine,” commented one writer, “that through stillness and solitude, man could glimpse something eternal. There is no sentimentality in his work, only reverence. He stripped away the clutter of daily life and gave us elemental images: mist, trees, ruins, light. And in doing so, he gave us room to think, feel, and pray.”

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