No One Travels Far on a Spiritual Path Outside of Community.

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I invite You to Consider One Author’s Vision of Community.

(BTW, this is one of the spiritually, emotionally, artistically and romantically powerful novels I have ever read. KCW)

She took her time walking back, again choosing the fields rather than the road.  As she went she gathered wildflowers, the meadowsweet and valerian that sunned themselves among the grass.  Murphy’s well-fed cows, their udders plump and nearly ready for milking, grazed unconcernedly as she climbed over the stone walls that separated pasture from plowed field and field from summer hay. 

Then she saw Murphy himself, atop his tractor, with young Brian O’Shay and Dougal Finnian with him, all to harvest the waving hay.  They called it comhair in Irish, but Maggie knew that here, in the west, the word meant much more than its literal translation of “help.”  It meant community.  No man was alone here, not when it came to haying, or opening a bank of peat or sowing in the spring. 

If today O’Shay and Finnian were working Murphy’s land, then tomorrow, or the day after, he would be working theirs.  No one would have to ask.  The tractor or plow or two good hands and a strong back would simply come, and the work would be done. 

Some fences might separate one man’s field from another, but the love of the land joined them. 

She lifted a hand to answer the salute of the three farmers and, gathering her flowers, continued on to her home. (pp. 215-216) 

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