The year is 2000.
My children are all still small,
my kitchen is in chaos
and I’m busy there
trying to get the dinner ready
for Paul coming home from work.

I’m playing my new CD,
In Blue, by The Corrs.
The final track, Rebel Heart,
begins to play.

A slow, haunting melody
of fiddle, whistle and drum
fills my kitchen
and a scene floods into my mind.

I’m somewhere away up in the hills
of Celtic Ireland,
surrounded by heather-clad hills
that stretch down into bog land.
There is no-one in sight.

Then, some distance before me,
I see a massive granite boulder,
the size of a house,
rolling very slowly and deliberately
through the landscape.
And coming from the boulder
I hear the sound of the fiddle
from Rebel Heart
as it plays with gentleness
and yet with strength.
This music is like a call,
an invitation.

One word describes this melody perfectly –
irresistible.

People begin to emerge
from the hills all around,
drawn by the music.
These people are Celts –
men, women and children,
all dressed very simply
in plain woollen tunics
that blend with the colours of the hills
greens, browns and purples.

And as these people
answer the call of the music,
they dance –
a slow, swirling, twirling dance
as they follow the huge boulder
which processes very slowly
and deliberately
through the hills.

I have a sense
that this boulder
is God in Ireland,
calling out to this ancient people.
I have a sense
that this call is timeless,
a sense
that this call is irresistible,
a sense
that this call is eternal,
a sense
that this call has tremendous power
and a sense
that this call will go on forever.

This call is unstoppable.

Rebel Heart stops playing
and I find myself
back in the chaos of my kitchen,
amazed at what I have just seen
in my mind’s eye.

And yet I can’t help thinking
that The Corrs have mis-named this melody –
it really should be called
Inexorable.

© Claire Murray, 31/1/16