The riddle of Columba.
The great Abbot of Iona has become a stumbling block and I can't write this story without him.
Wednesday Greetings!
I have come to realise that when I tried this week to just “keep writing Erna’s story” I got stuck on the need to begin to construct for my story’s purpose the character of St. Columba.
Colum / Colmcille / Columba / Crimthann (fox) / Aoidhe (guest) the more you look for St Columba the more names you find.
The universe of my little story doesn’t come together without imagining this man. The reason Erna finds herself in Scotland at all.
How does he fit in my story this princely priest purportedly expelled from his Irish homeland for the cost of a war he engaged in? An abbot not opposed to violence, ambitious, political. Trained at the feet of the great bard Gemman. Supposed dispeller of the Loch Ness monster, prophesy teller, and author of something like 300 books. His politicking with the royal houses of Dalraida and the Picts, Rome, and the great religious houses of Europe. His ambition to make Iona a centre of the world for learning and christian faith, one that would last for four centuries before his remains would need to be rescued from the Viking invasions.
Sifting through the miracles attributed to him, his prolific writing, how he would have accomplished his dream for Iona… building its reputation through storytelling? The marketer in me sees him furiously writing letters to the influencers of his time. Sharing his philosophies, the gifts of the kings, the esteemed visitors to his island, his progress against the druids and the old beliefs. His satisfaction when the first nobility was buried on Iona.
I imagine the control he held over his disciples and the plans he must have had for their lives. I imagine how a young talented girl might have been counted amongst his assets. I try to imagine his faith which all of this was to be in service of ultimately. I wonder what deeds become the expanded mythology of a miracle?
And I can’t quite give him voice yet, but I am starting to live in his mind a little bit.
Inspiring me this week:
This beautiful post by Faith Tilleray sharing the jewellery she made out of the shells and stones and other treasures she’s collected on walks on the beach with her grandchildren. It made me think a lot about the “magical” stones in our story. How when we make something out of a piece like this we are actually holding cooperative memory. These pieces were there. They shared in that moment we are wanting to literally hold on to… It made me wonder if the old ones imagined that about the stones. That they held all the memories of our past ancestors and well beyond. Their very being a memory.
Have a great week!
Susie