Feast on this offering from John O’Donohue. Happy New Year!
A Blessing For The New Year
On the day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
And you stumble,
May the clay dance
To balance you.
And when your eyes
The grey window
And the ghost of loss
Gets into you,
May a flock of colours,
Indigo, red, green
And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak
To mind your life.
“A New Year Blessing”
Benedictus (To Bless The Space Between Us)
You may enjoy Krista Tippett’s interview with John O’Donohue months before he died January 2008:
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/42741557@N05/16871458598″>Dawn</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>(license)</a>
The Washington Post accompanied by a cup of Joe these days can cast an aura of noxious negativity that permeates one’s day; spiritual work must balance this practice of staying informed. I put my Post aside and settle in for meditation. The sun escapes a thick bank of clouds momentarily blinding me. I close my eyes and follow my breath. It draws me into an extraordinary lucid dream.
The brilliant orange orb pulsates behind my eyelids, approaching and withdrawing, approaching and withdrawing, morphing into a red crab whose legs gyrate aimlessly in elusive air, while iridescent green claws pull it forward by stabbing furtively into earth. Exit stage right.
Enter: an eye moving slowly across the horizon of my inner eye. It is shut tightly and encircled by a wreath of rich long lashes. The eye moves in closer as if pulled by an invisible but powerful magnet. Enlarging as it moves, it opens and closes in some predetermined rhythm until the horizon swallows it and spits it out as a bright white light.
From this light two inchoate inhabitants, a naked woman and man, tumble out and spin rapidly downward leaving a trail of brilliant sparks in their path.
A new aura of peace replaces the noxious aura of negativity.
“I will build a great wall- and nobody builds walls better than me-“
On and on the vitriol violates
Ensnaring the unsuspecting
In a net of noxious fumes.
To the womb of Light
Until Sight returns me
To my Self,
Light from Light.
© rita h kowats December 23, 2015
Photo Credit: Rita H Kowats; aurora borealis from:
<a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/48503330@N08/8751278074″>Moon and Aurora</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>(license)</a>
One never knows where inspiration will pay a welcome visit. This picture graced my newsfeed this morning (no credit given the photographer, apologies). I wondered if human beings, like mountain goats, are spiritually coded to stand on the ledges of spirit. Must we, if we expect to grow?
I published this poem one year ago as a way to deal with my sorrow and fear over our increasingly hate-filled world. With a fresh onslaught of hatred being spewed out on innocent Moslem American citizens after the attack in San Bernardino I place my hope on paying attention. May we all slow down and listen to what is being said and felt in the spaces between the words. May we give voice to trust and love as we oppose injustice.