To bless the space between us A book of blessings

John O'Donohue, 1956-2008

Book - 2008

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Subjects
Published
New York : Doubleday c2008.
Language
English
Main Author
John O'Donohue, 1956-2008 (-)
Edition
1st ed
Physical Description
xvi, 222 p. ; 20 cm
ISBN
9780385522274
  • Beginnings : Matins
  • A morning offering
  • A blessing for the new year
  • In praise of fire
  • For a new beginning
  • For light
  • For the artist at the start of day
  • For a new home
  • For a new position
  • Desires : For eros
  • For freedom
  • For love in a time of conflict
  • A blessing of angels
  • For longing
  • In praise of air
  • For the senses
  • For presence
  • For friendship
  • For belonging
  • For absence
  • Thresholds : For your birthday
  • For the traveller
  • For a mother-to-be
  • For a new father
  • For a friend on the arrival of illness
  • At the threshold of womanhood
  • At the threshold of manhood
  • For the parents of one who has commited crime
  • For a parent on the death of a child
  • For old age
  • For death
  • To learn from animal being
  • In praise of water
  • Homecomings : As a child enters the world
  • In praise of the earth
  • For a mother
  • For a father
  • Grace before meals
  • Grace after meals
  • For a brother or a sister
  • On waking
  • On meeting a stranger
  • On passing a graveyard
  • To come home to yourself
  • At the end of the day: a mirror of questions
  • Before sleep
  • States of heart : For courage
  • For an exile
  • For solitude
  • For an addict
  • For failure
  • For grief
  • For the interim time
  • For beauty
  • For a prisoner
  • For suffering
  • For one who is exhausted
  • For equilibrium
  • For loneliness
  • Callings : For priesthood
  • For marriage
  • Elemental blessing for a new home
  • For the farmer
  • For a nurse
  • For the time of necessary decision
  • For the unknown self
  • For work
  • For one who holds power
  • For citizenship
  • For a leader
  • Axioms for wildness
  • Beyond endings : At the end of the year
  • The inner history of a day
  • For the family and friends of a suicide
  • For broken trust
  • For the break up of a relationship
  • For retirement
  • For someone awakening to the trauma of his or her past
  • On the death of the beloved
  • For someone who did you wrong
  • After a destructive encounter
  • For celebration
  • For lost friends
  • Entering death
  • For the dying
  • Vespers
  • To retrieve the lost art of blessing : The eyes of Jesus.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

What does it mean to bless others and ourselves? In this collection of O'Donohue's poetic prayers, the author of Beauty and Anam Cara focuses on bringing God's blessings into the liminal spaces in our lives: times of transition, grieving, change or preparation for the unknown. Some of the blessings are for specific situations that are bread-and-butter staples of other prayer books, such as benedictions over births, weddings, new jobs or new homes. Others are unexpected and bravely dark, including a prayer for the loved ones left behind after a suicide, or for a parent after the death of a child. O'Donohue is not afraid to tackle the fear and guilt that many harbor secretly, bringing shame and addiction out into the open even while celebrating new life and new love. His writing is sensitive and deep: "As light departs to let the earth be one with night, Silence deepens in the mind, and thoughts grow slow; The basket of twilight brims over with colors," he says of evening Vespers. The book closes with the Irish priest's personal--and often profound--musings on the act of blessing, drawing on Celtic spirituality and the wisdom of poets and philosophers. (Feb. 19) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

1    Beginnings There are days when Conamara is wreathed in blue Tuscan light. The mountains seem to waver as though they were huge dark ships on a distant voyage. I love to climb up into the silence of these vast autonomous structures. What seems like a pinnacled summit from beneath becomes a level plateau when you arrive there. Born in a red explosion of ascending fire, the granite lies cold, barely marked by the millions of years of rain and wind. On this primeval ground I feel I have entered into a pristine permanence, a continuity here that knew the wind hundreds of millions of years before a human face ever felt it. When we arrive into the world, we enter this ancient sequence. All our beginnings happen within this continuity. Beginnings often frighten us because they seem like lonely voyages into the unknown. Yet, in truth, no beginning is empty or isolated. We seem to think that beginning is setting out from a lonely point along some line of direction into the unknown. This is not the case. Shelter and energy come alive when a beginning is embraced. Goethe says that once the commitment is made, destiny conspires with us to support and realize it. We are never as alone in our beginnings as it might seem at the time. A beginning is ultimately an invitation to open toward the gifts and growth that are stored up for us. To refuse to begin can be an act of great self-neglect. Perhaps beginnings make us anxious because we did not begin ourselves. Others began us. Being conceived and born, we eventually enter upon ourselves already begun, already there. Instinctively we grasp onto and continue within the continuity in which we find ourselves. Indeed, our very life here depends directly on continuous acts of beginning. But these beginnings are out of our hands; they decide themselves. This is true of our breathing and our heartbeat. Beginning precedes us, creates us, and constantly takes us to new levels and places and people. There is nothing to fear in the act of beginning. More often than not it knows the journey ahead better than we ever could. Perhaps the art of harvesting the secret riches of our lives is best achieved when we place profound trust in the act of beginning. Risk might be our greatest ally. To live a truly creative life, we always need to cast a critical look at where we presently are, attempting always to discern where we have become stagnant and where new beginning might be ripening. There can be no growth if we do not remain open and vulnerable to what is new and different. I have never seen anyone take a risk for growth that was not rewarded a thousand times over. There is a certain innocence about beginning, with its excitement and promise of something new. But this will emerge only through undertaking some voyage into the unknown. And no one can foretell what the unknown might yield. There are journeys we have begun that have brought us great inner riches and refinement; but we had to travel through dark valleys of difficulty and suffering. Had we known at the beginning what the journey would demand of us, we might never have set out. Yet the rewards and gifts became vital to who we are. Through the innocence of beginning we are often seduced into growth. Sometimes the greatest challenge is to actually begin; there is something deep in us that conspires with what wants to remain within safe boundaries and stay the same. Years ago my neighbor here set out to build his new home. He had just stripped the sod off the field to begin digging out the foundation when an old man from the village happened to come by. He blessed the work and said, "You have the worst of it behind you now." My neighbor laughed and said, "But I have only just begun." The old man said, "That's what I mean. You have begun; and to make a real beginning is the most difficult act." There is an old Irish proverb that says, "Tus maith leath na hoibre." "A good beginning is half the work."  There seems to be a wisdom here, when one considers all the considerations, hesitation, and uncertainty that can claim our hearts for such a long time before the actual act of beginning happens. Sometimes a period of preparation is necessary, where the idea of the beginning can gestate and refine itself; yet quite often we unnecessarily postpone and equivocate when we should simply take the risk and leap into a new beginning. The Greeks believed that time had secret structure. There was the moment of Epiphany when time suddenly opened and something was revealed in luminous clarity. There was the moment of krisis when time got entangled and directions became confused and contradictory. There was also the moment of kairos; this was the propitious moment. Time opened up in kindness and promise. All the energies cohered to offer a fecund occasion of initiative, creativity, and promise. Part of the art of living wisely is to learn to recognize and attend to such profound openings in one's life. In the letters between Boris Pasternak and Olga Ivinskaya there is the beautiful recognition: "When a great moment knocks on the door of your life, its sound is often no louder than the beating of your heart and it is very easy to miss it." To live a conscious life, we need to constantly refine our listening. The Jewish tradition believed that time had its own psychic seasons. In the book of Ecclesiastes there is a list of the correspondences between certain events and their proper time: To every thing, there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. Before it occurs, a beginning can be a long time in preparation. This is why some beginnings take off with great assuredness, and one can instinctively recognize that the right direction has been chosen. Without any struggle, one enters into a fluency that seemed to have been awaiting one's choice. Other beginnings are awkward and slow, and it takes considerable time before the new path opens or welcomes one. Sometimes beginnings can catch us unawares. Often when something is ending we discover within it the spore of new beginning, and a whole new train of possibility is in motion before we even realize it. When the heart is ready for a fresh beginning, unforeseen things can emerge. And in a sense, this is exactly what a beginning does. It is an opening for surprises. Surrounding the intention and the act of beginning, there are always exciting possibilities. This inevitably excites artists. So much can actually happen between the moment the brush is taken into the hand and the moment it touches the canvas. Such beginnings have their own mind, and they invite and unveil new gifts and arrivals in one's life. Beginnings are new horizons that want to be seen; they are not regressions or repetitions. Somehow they win clearance and become fiercely free of the grip of the past. What is the new horizon in you that wants to be seen? Matins 1 Somewhere, out at the edges, the night Is turning and the waves of darkness Begin to brighten the shore of dawn The heavy dark falls back to earth And the freed air goes wild with light, The heart fills with fresh, bright breath And thoughts stir to give birth to color. 2 I arise today In the name of Silence Womb of the Word, In the name of Stillness Home of Belonging, In the name of the Solitude Of the Soul and the Earth. I arise today Blessed by all things, Wings of breath, Delight of eyes, Wonder of whisper, Intimacy of touch, Eternity of soul, Urgency of thought, Miracle of health, Embrace of God. May I live this day Compassionate of heart, Clear in word, Gracious in awareness, Courageous in thought, Generous in love. A Morning Offering I bless the night that nourished my heart To set the ghosts of longing free Into the flow and figure of dream That went to harvest from the dark Bread for the hunger no one sees. All that is eternal in me Welcomes the wonder of this day, The field of brightness it creates Offering time for each thing To arise and illuminate. I place on the altar of dawn: The quiet loyalty of breath, The tent of thought where I shelter, Waves of desire I am shore to And all beauty drawn to the eye. May my mind come alive today To the invisible geography That invites me to new frontiers, To break the dead shell of yesterdays, To risk being disturbed and changed. May I have the courage today To live the life that I would love, To postpone my dream no longer But do at last what I came here for And waste my heart on fear no more. A Blessing for the New Year beannacht For Josie. On the day when The weight deadens On your shoulders And you stumble, May the clay dance To balance you. And when your eyes Freeze behind The gray window And the ghost of loss Gets into you, May a flock of colors, Indigo, red, green And azure blue, Come to awaken in you A meadow of delight. When the canvas frays In the curragh 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. In Praise of Fire Let us praise the grace and risk of Fire. In the beginning, The Word was red, And the sound was thunder, And the wound in the unseen Spilled forth the red weather of being. In the name of the Fire, The Flame And the Light: Praise the pure presence of fire That burns from within Without thought of time. The hunger of Fire has no need For the reliquary of the future; It adores the eros of now, Where the memory of the earth In flames that lick and drink the air Is made to release Its long-enduring forms In a powder of ashes Left for the wind to decipher. As air intensifies the hunger of fire, May the thought of death Breathe new urgency Into our love of life. As fire cleanses dross, May the flame of passion Burn away what is false. As short as the time From spark to flame, So brief may the distance be Between heart and being. May we discover Beneath our fear Embers of anger To kindle justice. May courage Cause our lives to flame, In the name of the Fire, And the Flame And the Light. For a New Beginning In out-of-the-way places of the heart, Where your thoughts never think to wander, This beginning has been quietly forming, Waiting until you were ready to emerge. For a long time it has watched your desire, Feeling the emptiness growing inside you, Noticing how you willed yourself on, Still unable to leave what you had outgrown. It watched you play with the seduction of safety And the gray promises that sameness whispered, Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent, Wondered would you always live like this. Then the delight, when your courage kindled, And out you stepped onto new ground, Your eyes young again with energy and dream, A path of plenitude opening before you. Though your destination is not yet clear You can trust the promise of this opening; Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning That is at one with your life's desire. Awaken your spirit to adventure; Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk; Soon you will be home in a new rhythm, For your soul senses the world that awaits you. For Light Light cannot see inside things. That is what the dark is for: Minding the interior, Nurturing the draw of growth Through places where death In its own way turns into life. In the glare of neon times, Let our eyes not be worn By surfaces that shine With hunger made attractive. That our thoughts may be true light, Finding their way into words Which have the weight of shadow To hold the layers of truth. That we never place our trust In minds claimed by empty light, Where one-sided certainties Are driven by false desire. When we look into the heart, May our eyes have the kindness And reverence of candlelight. That the searching of our minds Be equal to the oblique Crevices and corners where The mystery continues to dwell, glimmering in fugitive light. When we are confined inside The dark house of suffering That moonlight might find a window. When we become false and lost That the severe noon-light Would cast our shadow clear. When we love, that dawn-light Would lighten our feet Upon the waters. As we grow old, that twilight Would illuminate treasure In the fields of memory. And when we come to search for God, Let us first be robed in night, Put on the mind of morning To feel the rush of light Spread slowly inside The color and stillness Of a found world. For the Artist at the Start of Day May morning be astir with the harvest of night; Your mind quickening to the eros of a new question, Your eyes seduced by some unintended glimpse That cut right through the surface to a source. May this be a morning of innocent beginning, When the gift within you slips clear Of the sticky web of the personal With its hurt and its hauntings, And fixed fortress corners, A morning when you become a pure vessel For what wants to ascend from silence, May your imagination know The grace of perfect danger, To reach beyond imitation, And the wheel of repetition, Deep into the call of all The unfinished and unsolved Until the veil of the unknown yields And something original begins To stir toward your senses And grow stronger in your heart In order to come to birth In a clean line of form, That claims from time A rhythm not yet heard, That calls space to A different shape. Excerpted from To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings by John O'Donohue All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.