An Ode to Iona

In honour of Burns Night

Although Robert Burns never wrote about the island of Iona in his poetry, each of this pieces illicit a depth of feeling that is at once both unique to Scotland, and relatable to everyone. His poems are often rich with emotion, from friendship to love, and the human condition, one particular favourite of mine is To A Mouse, which describes the poets sorrow at destroying the mouse’s (the “tim’rous beastie) home. He further laments the destruction of the connection to nature, which is still a pertinent subject today:

“I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion
An’ fellow-mortal!”

In honour of Burn’s Night tonight, I wanted to offer an ode to a place that is extremely special to me, Iona.

In my book, A Guide to Pilgrimage, I explain how I have been pulled to pilgrimage to Iona since I was young:

“As a teenager, I kept having a reoccurring dream about a small island surrounded with sapphire blue seas. On the island was a small rustic chapel, and along a single track which meandered along the length of the island, there stood a huge stone cross richly decorated and patterned and that was much taller than me. I found a smooth green stone which sat beautifully in my hand, so comfortably, that I hadn’t been aware of it. I placed at the foot of the cross. The dream was so realistic that I could smell the salt in the air from the sea, I was warmed by the sunshine and the breeze in my hair and feel the smooth texture of the stone in my hand. This was a real puzzle to me as a young person, especially as I am not a Christian and I had never visited such an island in my life. After a time, when the mystery behind this dream didn’t become clearer, I assumed it was a strange fiction, and put it completely out of my mind and got on with my life. That is, until decades later when by chance I was watching an episode of the BBC programme Sacred Wonders of Britain. The presenter, Neil Oliver, was on a small boat in the Inner Hebrides on the coast of Scotland and as the camera panned around from him, it showed an island surrounded by sapphire seas with a church like building in the distance – I felt something deep inside me shift…like an imprint of a memory so profoundly powerful that as I watched in awe as I saw not only the tall cross that I had dreamed about long ago, but a beach famous for its particular type of green stone…Iona.”

Many years later, I finally set eyes on the island:

“As it (the ferry) pulled out into the seas, I had an overpowering sense of déjà vu – that everything was familiar and I somehow recognised this sea, this voyage, this place – at the time I put this down to watching the Sacred Places of Britain programme a few years previously, as I mentioned earlier – but now I wonder if there was perhaps more to it. The view of Iona from the deck of the ferry – on a calm summer evening with a slight sea breeze and a note of salt in the air. The sun shone deeply onto the Abbey, which was a rich red colour contrasting with the teal sapphire of the calm waters and lush green of the land around it. Small white coloured houses were dotted here and there. Dun I, (the mountain,) loomed ever present behind, looking unusually peaceful and idyllic. I was completely overwhelmed with a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye. It seemed like I was becoming part of my own dream. I walked onto the jetty to the sound of sea birds and the gentle lapping of the sea. Iona was perfect!”

As I set foot on the island:

“I walked as though on air, down to the main road which ran from the slip way and is the only road on the island. I followed the crowd ahead of me as we meandered around the concentration of houses on the island, my head was still in the clouds, my heart unable to fully grasp that I was finally here. As we all turned the next corner, I saw the Abbey and the sea overlooking Mull, It was as if I was in my childhood dreams, seeing the sapphire blue sea and rich green of the land, the Abbey striking in the warming evening sunshine. 65 Pagan Portals – A Guide to Pilgrimage There is nothing that can truly express this feeling, the closest I can come to is deep serenity. My heart was in the landscape, my mind sailed around with the clouds and wind overhead!”

That evening I had my first otherworldly experience:

“Iona is considered a thin place and I encountered it after my arrival and settling in, later that night. I decided to watch the sunset, so donning my boots and jacket, I headed north along the road as far as it went, and then along a track besides one of the small farms. I found the rocky beach and sat watching the sun set. My mind and thoughts lulled by the tide dragging in and out with stones, I was in that moment at one with this place of profound spirituality. It is said in Celtic myth that if you traverse the sea to an island, a passing traveller might encounter the Otherworld, a realm of the unknown, a place of shimmering wonder with golden magical beings, god-like and ethereal. Every aspect of the imagination could be fulfilled in the Otherworld, and I could feel how thin the veil between worlds was here. Time seemed to stand still and lost in my mediation with the land, I was stirred by the sudden cry of a gull overhead. I had sat on the stones for nearly three hours! I slept well that night.”

Iona is a magical island and I experienced many more moments of wonder while visiting.

So tonight when I toast my haggis, I will remember that my heart was left in Iona waiting for my return one day.

Happy Burns Night, however you celebrate.

For more on my pilgrimage to Iona, and more please check out my book:

It is available from anywhere that sells books, online or in person.

All images are ©Thea Prothero, all quotes except To A Mouse are from A Guide to Pilgrimage.