Lucius was given his own private enclosure in the men’s house and outfitted with the blue garments that would mark him as a student of the island. Used to a communal life with monks and brothers, it all felt very natural, except for the presence of the women.

One morning Amalgáid led him to a grassy clearing in the forest, a little green glade filled with sunlight, where the ever-present wind and the sounds of the sea were at last stilled, absorbed by a thick ring of hazel and yew. A tiny brook looped its way in and out of grasses and leaves, then disappeared into pools and under rocks as it meandered its way softly towards the sea. Butterflies and honeybees ranged the lip of the little stream, seeking a sip of water, and everywhere colorful flowers opened their faces to the sun. The scent of the wildflowers and grasses rose in the moist, sunny air like a song, a palpable hum of vibrating color and light.

“This place is beautiful,” said Lucius in a whisper, sensing a strong and mysterious presence there that he did not wish to disturb.

“This is where the mother deer come to give birth,” said Amalgáid in a hushed tone. “Every year they come here because of the soft grasses, water, and peaceful silence. It has everything a deer mother could want for her newborn fawn.”

They sat side by side in silent appreciation for a while, just soaking in the warm sunlight and the atmosphere. Slowly, one by one, mother deer and their fawns began emerging from the dark of the forest, stepping into the sunlight without fear. When the deer were sure that all was well, the does lowered their heads and began to graze while the fawns sported about, lunging at one another with tiny hooves and leaping into the air in mock fright.

“The joy you feel here is what comes of having a peaceful place to retire to,” Amalgáid said. “A place like this bestows the freedom to eat, sleep, and play in contentment. It holds a sacred beauty that radiates to all creatures that come into it and heals the spirits of those who experience it. Everyone needs such a place for retreat, if not in a physical space, then in the temple of the mind. Have you such a sanctuary within you?”

“No, I haven’t.”

The idea of a mental sanctuary was novel. The only such places he had known were the churches of Gallia and perhaps the fogo of the tribe of Mamm an Bys.

“It is very important that you have an inner sanctuary to carry with you, a place within that you can enter when you need comfort. Thoughts are things, meaning that as you think, so your material reality will follow. You can visualize another in your inner sanctuary, should they need healing. You can visualize yourself or any other being in your inner sanctuary as healthy and whole in mind, spirit, and body. Your inner sanctuary holds infinite compassion for all beings in need.

“Today’s lesson is called cride. It’s about the heart, peace, compassion, and a serene relationship between yourself and all creatures. The center of the chest is the home of the heart, the seat of love. It is not the seat of pity or feeling sorry for others; that kind of feeling is born of feeling superior to others. The love that I speak of is also not romantic love; that kind of love always seeks something in return.

“The love I am describing is pure compassion, which breaks down the barriers between self and other and is the destroyer of duality. True compassion produces an impulse to help other lives simply because the act of helping others makes one happy. It is an automatic impulse, a way of life, a condition of forgiveness and of celebrating others’ joys. If someone has something that you lack, rather than feeling loss or regret, there is an automatic wish to celebrate the other person’s good fortune.

“We have come to this place to experience the love that is inherent in Great Nature. She always seeks to support all creatures, if we but have the eyes to see it. We who live here easily survive on the bounty of our little island: the plants, trees, seaweeds, fish, and other creatures provide our food and medicine, and the stones and trees provide our homes and our fires. We trade for luxuries, but that is a choice we make. Nature is our Great Mother who unconditionally accepts all of her children and provides exactly what each one needs. We are always surrounded by her love, if we but have the eyes to see it and the heart to feel it.”

“Is the sacred presence stronger in this spot? I find that I want to speak in whispers out of respect,” Lucius asked.

“What you are experiencing is a direct connection to the Self, the eternal spirit or divine essence that dwells within all things. Some have given it the name of a goddess; they call her Nemetona. She is the invisible spirit that dwells within the sacred grove.

“To learn the true lesson of the heart, you must learn to hear the voice of Nemetona speaking to you from within the silence. Her voice, the voice of the spirit, is more important than anything we have learned from our parents, our teachers, or from society. When we are guided by that inner voice, it brings a purity of intention towards others that removes all doubt, worry, and fear. We feel secure and confident, and good fortune, love, and healthy relationships follow as naturally as the sun that shines upon the flowers.”

Lucius took in the words but found his mind straying towards the beautiful young woman who at that very moment was making her own progress through the lessons of the island. He hardly dared admit it, but he was already bound by her gaze. He hoped he would find a way to get to know her better, and maybe bring her to this beautiful place alone one sunny day.

And he was surprised to find that he was already letting go of the memory of Aurelia. It seemed a miracle that he had found himself drawn to two fascinating women in such a short time—a strange fate for one who had so recently left the brothers of Inissi Leuca.

“Your mind is drifting away, Lucius. You are in a world of your own,” Amalgáid said with a wry smile. Lucius blushed; it was as if the man had read his thoughts.

“Here, I have a gift for your crane bag.” Amalgáid took a polished stone heart of cristall grisainech from his pocket and pressed it into Lucius’s hand.

The island suddenly spoke to Lucius through the stone. He felt and heard its living, breathing being. And somewhere in the middle of this unspoken conversation, there were images of the green-eyed young woman he had recently met. This “lesson of the heart” could be no coincidence.

“Put the stone over a person’s heart to heal it, and it will help mend sorrow and loss as well as physical heart pain. The heart is the balance point between the basic survival needs of the lower body and the spiritual realms that correspond to pools of energy in the upper body. That stone will help you and others to move their consciousness from the worldly to the spiritual.”

As Amalgáid spoke, an inquisitive fawn edged closer, snuffling the air with curiosity. Lucius stared into its liquid brown eyes. He had never seen a creature so delicate or beautiful.

“Carry the memory of this place in your heart forever, Lucius. Come back to it in your mind when you need a sanctuary from life’s sharp edges,” Amalgáid said, reaching into his willow basket for apples.

As they fed the deer from their hands, Lucius thought of Ísu distributing loaves and fishes to the multitude. How strange. Suddenly the apples and the deer are as sacred to me as the body of Ísu ever was. The trees, the stones, the deer, and the Druid of this island are sacred, as are Aífe and I. We are all wrapped in the divine; it is everywhere, within and without us, in an endless mystery.