Wisdom from the Western Isles


After losing his wife in childbirth, young American James Robertson visits spiritual director, Peter Calvay, who lives in the Outer Hebrides. At first James learns how to pray and how to meditate. Then when Peter is lost at sea, James finds details of Peter’s own spiritual journey that inspires James to deepen his own spiritual life. As well as practical advice on prayer this part describes the deeply human story of the young woman with whom Peter falls deeply in love. Eventually Peter is found alive and the two men meet on the mainland at Peter s mother’s funeral. Peter uses the teachings of the Cloud of Unknowing, St John of the Cross and St Teresa of Avila as well as the paradigm of his own parent’s love for each other to explain the mystic life. Deeply moving lessons are drawn for those committed to paths that can lead to the fullest possible experience of love here on earth.
Available in paper and eReader versions.
Wisdom from the Western Isles is still currently being read on Czech republic radio broadcasts and is mandatory reading for youth groups in the Slovenian language
Extract from Wisdom from the Western Isles
Chapter 2
I put the phone down, walked into the dining room, and there was Peter Calvay, sitting next to the table. He got up as I came in, smiling naturally as he took me by the hand. I winced with pain. For a moment I thought he intentionally meant to do me an injury.
‘I’m terribly sorry!’ he said, immediately releasing his frightening grip. He had genuinely hurt me. I sat down nursing my hand, to the accompaniment of his profuse apologies. He had hurt me all right, but I made the most of it. Things couldn’t have turned out better. The moment we’d met, the psychological advantage had gone to me. Instead of me feeling guilty and trying to apologize to him for what I had done, he was the one who was apologizing to me!
‘It’s all right,’ I said, bravely forcing a smile.
‘I just forget about these hands of mine,’ he said, as if he’d only had them for a few weeks. ‘I’ve always been in trouble with them ever since I was a teenager. You see, I have to depend on my hands so much because of my leg. I have to grip things more firmly than anybody else for security. My father was endlessly telling me off at home because I would casually turn the taps off in the bathroom and go out for the evening, and nobody could turn them on again!’ He laughed guiltily, as if he were anticipating another scolding.
The words ‘father’, ‘home’, ‘teenager’ broke the spell I had cast round him. So far, he had been little more than a stereotype stamped out in my mind. All of a sudden he had come alive. He was a person; an individual with a past, a mum and a dad, a home, and a history. He had a face too and a body – a big body!
He was a well-made man, about five foot eleven, with strong, powerful shoulders, supporting a heavy, well-shaped head with a mop of black hair, not shoulder length, but long enough to cover both his ears.
The man I was expecting to meet would have been at least fifteen years older. Peter looked in his late thirties, or possibly forty, but even my arithmetic told me he must be at least forty two.
I would say he had worn well, in spite of the telltale grey hairs, which were by no means abundant. A handsome man, no doubt about that. This was something I’d not expected either. It was a strong face with a touch of stubbornness about the chin, but the face had been softened through suffering, and was mobile with compassion. He wore a large donkey jacket, heavily patched with genuine leather at the elbows. Perhaps it was the thick white Arran sweater underneath that gave him such a heavy, powerful appearance. His trousers were strong black ‘cords’, and his right foot was supported by a large built-up boot, fitted to an iron caliper; oddly enough, he was wearing a massive homemade sandal on the other.
‘Are you all right?’ he insisted, with genuine concern.
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, thanks, though I wasn’t expecting to meet an “all-in wrestler”,’ I replied, attempting to be funny. ‘Well now,’ I said, trying to take control of the situation and play the host, ‘Would you like a drink before dinner?’
‘If you don’t mind, James,’ he said, breaking out into another guilty smile, ‘I’d prefer to have a bath. Father Callum usually lets me have one each Sunday before dinner, so I’ve just got time if I go now.’
‘By all means,’ I said. ‘We’ll meet in half an hour for dinner, if that gives you enough time?’
‘Plenty, thanks,’ he replied. ‘It won’t take me long.’ He picked up an old sports bag, took his stick, which had been hanging over the back of the chair, and went upstairs.
I sat down with a sigh of relief. The worst was over; the introductions were done.
Reviews for Wisdom from the Western Isles
In a beautiful, personalized portrait, the author depicts a real person delving into the depths of the human condition. It reveals a practice deeply imbedded in the original Wisdom of the Judeo/Christian tradition.
This is a must read for both initiates to the subject and as a teaching method for those tasked to direct others.
There is now a sequel to ‘Western Isles’ – “Wisdom from Franciscan Italy”. All are great; with teaching on the mystic pathway (Western Isles) and Franciscan Spirituality (Franciscan Italy) being presented in the form of a novel. They are not dry and dusty ‘academic’ studies but are vibrant and alive. If you struggle with prayer (as most people do) then give these books a try.
Also highly recommended is Ian Morgan Cron’s “Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim’s Tale” – another novel written in the first person on the subject of St Francis! Here the ‘raconteur’ has a crisis of faith and starts to resolve it by ‘Chasing Francis’ around parts of Italy with the help of a Franciscan Spiritual Director.
Being novels all these books are readable on many levels from ‘a simple story’ to a deep challenge of one’s own prayer life and understanding of Medieval Spirituality (The Dark Night of the Soul; St. John of The Cross; St. Teresa of Avila; Bl. John Dun Scotus) and its application today.