Kind of how things felt this morning.
Everyone is home for a few days, which is swell, but crowded in our little blue house. And the neighbor practicing his drumming, and the garbage, recycling, and then compost trucks coming through, and neighbor children knocking, wanting the big boys of our world to join them, and the phone ringing . . . you get the idea.
And my mind is bouncing, looking forward to listening to Velma talk about Shifu tonight, and then being a part of her workshop this weekend. There is also the second painting class tomorrow, so curious to see if that painting really did look like the photo from that post last week (because I swear it didn't), and too many new ideas for cloth, there just aren't enough hours.
In the midst of all of the noise and thoughts, there was a lovely email, sharing a beautiful poem by John O'Donohue (again, thank you, Dianne). Listening to him reading it, over and over again here, and then to his interview here, and things settled down, found a way, and are going. (Star by Jude, sail and sea from Heike.)
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.
