soul soothing with my Grace


A Blessing for Beauty

May the beauty of your life become more visible to you, that you may glimpse your wild divinity.
May the wonders of the earth call you forth from all your small, secret prisons and set your feet free in the pastures of possibilities.
May the light of dawn anoint your eyes that you may behold what a miracle a day is.
May the liturgy of twilight shelter all your fears and darkness within the circle of ease.
May the angel of memory surprise you in bleak times with new gifts from the harvest of your vanished days.
May you allow no dark hand to quench the candle of hope in your heart.
May you discover a new generosity towards yourself, and encourage yourself to engage your life as a great adventure.
May the outside voices of fear and despair find no echo in you.
May you always trust the urgency and wisdom of your own spirit.
May the shelter and nourishment of all the good you have done, the love you have shown, the suffering you have carried, awaken around you to bless your life a thousand times.
And when love finds the path to your door may you open like the earth to the dawn, and trust your every hidden color towards its nourishment of light.
May you find enough stillness and silence to savor the kiss of God on your soul and delight in the eternity that shaped you, that holds you and calls you.
And may you know that despite confusion, anxiety and emptiness, your name is written in Heaven.
And may you come to see your life as a quiet sacrament of service, which awakens around you a rhythm where doubt gives way to the grace of wonder, where what is awkward and strained can find elegance, and where crippled hope can find wings, and torment enter at last unto the grace of serenity.
May Divine Beauty bless you.

John O’Donohue, from Beauty – The Invisible Embrace

Beannacht / Blessing

by John O’Donohue

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 grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to 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.

~Excerpt from What I Must Tell Myself by David Whyte

“And though all the things I love

may pass away and

the great family of things and people

I have made around me

will see me go,

I feel them living in me

like a great gathering

ready to reach a greater home

When one thing dies all things

die together, and must live again

in a different way,

when one thing is missing everything is missing,

and must be found again

in a new whole

and everything wants to be complete,

everything wants to go home

and the geese traveling south

are like the shadow of my breath

flying into darkness

on great heart-beats

to an unknown land where I belong”

~Excerpt from What I Must Tell Myself by David Whyte


Yesterday I went to the memorial service for my Uncle Jack. He was buried at the Veterans cemetery in Rhode Island.  He was 86 years old and suffered a lot in the end. The cancer had invade his bones.  Growing up he was a character larger than life, with a heart to match.  He survived the horrific battle at the Chosin Reservoir during the Korean War.  He never understood why he survived when so many others did not.  He loved my sister and I was if we were his own. He had a quick wit and always made me smile.

He passed away more than two weeks ago, but it was at the cemetery when they began the marine military honors that the fact that he is gone for good hit me.  Grief has a way of sneaking up, grabbing hold, and wringing one’s heart. Grief can clarify and it can cloud one’s vision. Grief can strip life bare, so we are left exposed and vulnerable, confused, and wondering what this life is really all about. Grief can knock us to our knees and it can reveal our shared humanity.  Grief can makes us hide in the darkness and it can urge us forward towards that which soothes our soul, that which knows our joy.  Grief can shrink us. Grief can make us grow.  Grief can reveal our love.- Jen

The Well of Grief

Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface on the well of grief

turning downward through its black water
to the place we cannot breathe

will never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water, cold and clear,

nor find in the darkness glimmering
the small round coins
thrown by those who wished for something else.

— David Whyte
from Where Many Rivers Meet
©2007 Many Rivers Press

spring is slowly making its way to the harbor- this past week I noticed less and less ice floes




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enjoying the harbor on a late Winter day


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what keeps me going…

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“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.” ― Rachel Carson


“Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.” ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden



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