The Rain Creates Rainbows

*Keen Bay, Ireland, all photos are by, Vicki Donaldson Einsel*

“Sometimes, you find yourself in the middle of nowhere, and sometimes, in the middle of nowhere, you find yourself” - Unknown

My youngest flew the nest 8 weeks ago. I flew to the gorgeous cliffs and mist of Mulranny, Ireland. My goal? Launch myself into the next phase of my life. The phase of no kids to worry about every minute. The phase where my days aren’t built around school lunches, drop offs, art shows, driving lessons and the daily mothering that has absorbed me for close to 25 years.

My aim was to celebrate the huge accomplishment of both my boys thriving. I didn’t want to sink into the belief ‘empty’ nest was something to be distraught over. Isn’t the goal of parenting to launch happy, kind, productive people into society?

Could I tap into my essence? Find my self? Create beautiful art?

In truth, I really just wanted to run far away.

I escaped to Mulranny, Ireland, home to the Mulranny Arts Center and the Old Irish Goat society. It’s a small seaside village, with 500 residents -100 of which are Ukrainian refugees. A very special place. The people are kind, hard working and civic-minded. Its location, overlooking Clew Bay, is 8 miles from the Achill Islands, where the movie Banshees of Inisherin was filmed. It’s picturesque, with stunning views of Croagh Patrick - Ireland’s holiest mountain, where pilgrims hike to the summit every July to honor Saint Patrick.

I enrolled in an art retreat titled . . .
“Light at the Edge of Day”.

Typically, I avoid talking about politics and religion. Yet, half way through my trip, the world seemed to get more complicated. Music lovers in Israel were attacked by an extremist group, setting off global fears. The American House of Representatives ousted its Speaker, and have yet to elect a new one, with a looming government shut down less than a month away. Add the Ukrainian war and climate disasters and things seem pretty troubling - leaving people wondering what comes next as the world seems at an inflection point.

Even at, what felt like the edge of the Earth, it’s hard to avoid the global news.

My heart ached for all the people affected - the music festival goers, those killed, their families, the hostages, the innocent bystanders and those fleeing the Gaza Strip. I had flashbacks of fleeing my own home in Battery Park City, NY with my toddler in my arms, while under a terrorist attack.

Yet, I tried to avoid the news from seeping in. Notifications, Google and email were put on hold.

Instead, I snapped landscape photos in the changing light. I watched young ewes playing and butting heads in the rising sun. I broke bread with the students from other countries and states. I painted and got messy and listened to my 100 artist playlist on Spotify. I drank Lyon tea and ate Eton Mess, a delicious Irish dessert of strawberries, cream and meringue. I visited the Achill islands and learned about the peat bogs and the potato famine.

I met the Old Ancient Goats, once thought to be extinct. If it hadn’t been for the people of Mulranny, who unbeknownst to many had started an Old Ancient Goat breeding program, these beautiful creatures would have become extinct. They seem to have walked off the pages of an old nursery rhyme book, with their multi-colored long hair, beards and gigantic ringed horns. They made me smile and laugh. By grazing on invasive plants, these working goats are preventing wildfires. Everyone needs Old Irish Goats in their life.

In Mulranny it’s the animals’ land. They are free to roam and graze where they want. Sheep have the right of way on the road. Each one is marked with bright paint spots, such as hot pink or purple, that identify which farm they belong to. It’s not unusual to see purple sheep hanging out with pink sheep. The sheepdog, Finnegan, staying with us, wanders where he wants, with or without his chew toy in tow. The animals seem happy and free.

The first clear morning in two weeks occurred the next to my last day of the trip. At dawn I headed to the beach. The sheep, cows and birds were littered through the rolling golf course that touches the sea. Not a person in sight. Just me, the animals and my camera. The sun rose, bathing the emerald landscape in orange, yellow and red hues. I walked the beach, picking up seashells, and taking in the beauty of Croagh Patrick fully visible on such a clear morning. I felt one with nature.

*Croagh Patrick at Sunrise on a clear morning.*

As I was heading back to my house, four dairy cows, each one a different color - black, brown, white and grey - were walking towards me.

I kept walking towards them.

They towards me.

I slowed my pace.

They came closer.

I stopped.

They came even closer.

I froze.

They were curious.

I was in awe.

Complete awe.

My breath slowed as they moved closer. The grey one, who seemed to be the leader, came to smell me. Brushing my arm, she leaned in and took a deep breath touching my right elbow with her nose. The brown one followed and smelled me too. This time right in center of my chest. The white one seemed satisfied that I was not a threat and went back to grazing nearby. The black one hung back about 5 feet from me. She was intently watching. She was hesitant. Meekly she rocked back in forth, wanting to come closer, her nervousness obvious. My nervousness matched hers. I was alone, standing in their space. Staying still, I watched. I locked eyes with her and verbally introduced myself. She took one step closer. I stayed planted in the dirt. I was drawn further into her shining brown eyes. She seemed young and innocent. A teenager? I felt blessed to be witnessing her learning and curiosity. I thought of my newly launched teenager exploring his surrounding and also learning and curious about the world around him.

In the process of running away to Mulranny, I found a more expansive version of me.

My last day in Mulranny was the culmination of all my incredible experiences in this wondrous place. At dawn I headed back down to the beach, hoping to match the deep experience of meeting the cows the previous day. This time…

No animals.

No sunrise.

Gray skies were turning black.

This mist turning to rain.

The wind biting through my winter coat and wool hat.

The complete opposite of the day prior. It was a wet, grey day. Lots of grey.

Since the animals were sheltering, I walked straight to the beach pulling my hat down and my collar up. Each step, I pushed through the wind, noting that Croagh Patrick was not visible through the thick fog. Exercise, that’s what I’ll focus on.

No magic in the grey, I think.

My music is playing loudly in my AirPods as I walk completely alone along the sand. I reach a rock pile at the edge and I climb over the rocks. To my surprise, I find a second even more lush beach. Continuing on my walk, pushing against the wind, I drink in the beauty. The grey is actually astonishingly pretty. My boots are leaving foot prints in the sand. Patches of sun peak through holes in the clouds. It’s raining in the distance. All my senses are heightened with the wind and light rain in my face.

Have I ever felt so Alive?

I turn around and head back. So crazy beautiful. Grey has so much color. Blue grey. Red grey. Purples.

So Happy.

Cherry Bomb, a favorite song, by my favorite singer, John Melloncamp, plays on my Spotify. “When I think back on those days, All I can do is sit and smile”.

I can’t help myself. ”And groovin’ was groovin” I walk and dance and sway and twirl my way down the beach. “And dancing meant everything. We were young and we were improvin.”

It starts to rain harder. I am getting drenched. I LOVE the rain. I welcome it! I twirl faster to the beat of Cherry Bomb.

“Laughin’, Laughin’ with our friends,”.

All of a sudden a HUGE rainbow appears in front of me.

“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah”
”Yeah, Yeah, Yeah”

Tears of joy streams down my face. I sing louder and scream with happiness. A rainbow, in front of me, alone on this beach. Magic Everywhere. Magic Anywhere? God? Source? Love? Connected!

“Our hearts were really thumpin” “Say Yeah, Yeah, Yeah”

I breathe it all in. Slowly and quickly. It sinks in. This morning was unimaginably life affirming. I get it. I understand. Thank you! Staying open to what is in front of me, while letting go of what I thought was true, allowed me to really see the truth of this moment.

I am always free, not just on this beach, where no one can see me.

Grey is beautiful.

The dark clouds give way to light.

My Darkest Days, like crouching on the bathroom floor on 9/11 believing that death was possible, or watching my son lose the ability to walk while fighting a debilitating disease. Or my father’s death to cancer. Or just some random day of feeling “not enough”.

The dark clouds give way to light. I found stillness and peace on that bathroom floor so many years ago. I found strength and love with my son’s illness. I found grit and grace in my dad fighting cancer. On my “not enough” days, I can find being gentle with myself. I can practice self-love and acceptance. I can embrace messy.

I am always free. Only my thoughts and beliefs limit me. So, I was reminded.

Darkness exists. Unfortunately. It is part of our shared human experience.

It’s easy to have deep magical experiences alone on a beach away from the daily struggles. It’s also easy to miss the everyday light directly in front of us.

When I slow down and pause to breathe or to listen, I don’t fly past the things in front of me. I could have run past the cows and missed looking into their souls. Missed their curiosity, which turned my curiosity on full blast. When I focus solely on ticking off my to do list, I could miss the kindness of a stranger holding the door open for me, or flashing me a smile. Maybe I am robbing myself of serving someone or something that needs my attention. When I choose to blow off a social experience because of the way I look or feel at that moment, I am limiting my experience in life. When I am buried in my phone, I could miss literally ANYTHING in front of me.

How often do we do that? Ignore what is in front of us or close ourselves off?

Even in the darkness, It just takes a pinhole for the light to break trough the clouds.

Between the Fire

In-Between Grief