Sitting at the top of the Battery is a favoured place to sit and find stillness—when the wind is not westerly! The battery is not too far from the village, so It’s an ideal place to have an alfresco lunch – you can get there within 20 minutes and feel that you have ventured out.
I brought along my lunch and a flask of coffee. I read for a while, a book by Ruth Allen titled Grounded. This quote seems pretty relevant right now.
“Being Grounded is findind a Place to belong in the Natural world’ Allen, R.
Before I eat, I pause and tune into my breath. It comes easily here on Lundy—I feel calm and relaxed. I begin to reconnect with my senses.
Sensory perceptions
I think back to 2023, when I left postcards across the island, inviting visitors to reflect on the senses they experienced on the Island —which senses felt heightened, which senses stayed with them. I remembered leaving one at this very spot. That quiet exchange, a shared noticing, is something I will miss.
On Lundy, it feels natural to move through the landscape in a multisensory way, although it is easy to be pulled only by the view. I created a small book to help guide visitors with ideas of how to connect to senses, over and above the sense of sight.
From here, the horizon stretches uninterrupted—just sea and sky.
Breathing the Landscape
I breathe into my ribcage, drawing on breathwork from my Pilates. As my ribs expand, it feels as though I am breathing in the breadth of the horizon itself. With each inhale, the landscape seems to enter the body. This, to me, is true embodiment.
Shared Sensory Encounters
Closing my eyes, I shift to listening: the sea, seabirds squawking, skylarks singing mid-flight. Then touch—the firmness of granite beneath me, uncomfortable, pressing into my body until I move to a softer place, a patch of grass between the rocks. There is taste too: not the salt of the air, but the faint fishiness of my tuna sandwich, an unexpected link back to the sea. A light breeze moves across my face—gentle, unlike the forceful winds that often dominate the island.
What I Will Miss
As I sit here, I begin to think about leaving. I will miss these sensory details: like, hearing gulls where they belong—on cliffs, not in town centres and the return of the Manx shearwaters each year. Here, I leave my windows open at night, just so I can hear them. I will miss the herby scents of the yarrow, spreading across the island in early summer. I might even miss that cheesey scent of goats, long before you meet them.
Soundscape – Landscape – Seascape
One of the most important things Lundy has taught me is how to tune into the senses. When commercial noise falls away, when the distractions of modern living are reduced. It becomes easier to tune into what is here.
And I wonder how this will change when I return to the mainland. Will I find another spot that feels like this one?