Herself cannot find any rhythm right now. She knows she must find new patterns, new habits, new ways of moving through the days, yet she continues to be stymied by the losses and changes. Having spent various evenings of the past month and a half interviewing applicants to her alma mater, she is acutely aware that she graduated from college long before any of these youngsters were born, and she feels the full weight of her middle-age and her myriad responsibilities. She feels stuck at a crossroads, unsure where to go or how to get there, but knowing that the world keeps turning and thus she must also keep moving as well.
In this winter of the soul, Herself seeks consolation in the writings of John O'Donohue. Author of two of Herself's favorite books -- Anam Cara: A Book Of Celtic Wisdom, and Eternal Echoes: Celtic Reflections on Our Yearning to Belong, he gathers words in beautiful, complex, and lyrical ways. (You'll find quotes of his sprinkled throughout the blog, including here, here, here, and here, to name just a few.) There is a comfort in his words that can be found no where else.
Tonight, we've delved into a third book: To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings. When all is in flux and we are uncertain, a blessing may be what we need the most.
For The Interim Time
When near the end of day, life has drained
Out of light, and it is too soon
For the mind of night to have darkened things,
No place looks like itself, loss of outline
Makes everything look strangely in-between,
Unsure of what has been, or what might come.
In this wan light, even trees seem groundless.
In a while it will be night, but nothing
Here seems to believe the relief of darkness.
You are in this time of the interim
Where everything seems withheld.
The path you took to get here has washed out;
The way forward is still concealed from you.
"The old is not old enough to have died away;
The new is still too young to be born."
You cannot lay claim to anything;
In this place of dusk,
Your eyes are blurred;
And there is no mirror.
Everyone else has lost sight of your heart
And you can see nowhere to put your trust;
You know you have to make your own way through.
As far as you can, hold your confidence.
Do not allow confusion to squander
This call which is loosening
Your roots in false ground,
That you might come free
From all you have outgrown.
What is being transfigured here is your mind,
And it is difficult and slow to become new.
The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the new dawn.
- John O'Donohue