Isle of Harris

Jon and I drove through stormy Scottish landscape on winding roads. The mercurial weather of the Outer Hebrides reflected our turbulent feelings. I probably should have chosen an easier playlist for our trip rather than the podcast series, "Rise and Fall of Mars Hill". It was a journey into layers upon layers of human darkness, toxic pride and spiritual abuse. Honestly, I mourned and prayed a lot on this trip. It was more retreat than holiday.

The entire west coast drive up north is stunning, but the Isle of Harris is terrifying in its beauty. Towering mountains, violent windstorms, endless stretches of pristine beach, jagged black cliffs, I was humbled by the beauty surrounding us and the resilience of what could survive there. The rocky landscape was ancient and weathered, without artifice. Wifi was spotty on the island and non-existent in our cottage. There was little to do but look out and experience this place that stretched beyond a human lifetime. I was small, a guest that would pass by like ash in the wind. I was grateful.