Be excessively gentle with yourself

Here’s a photo of tonight’s moon, taken on my phone. It’s a Hunter’s Moon, spectacular indeed. The phone is never going to do it justice: what photo could?

Out walking under the moon, after a long and at times frustrating day of work, I was thinking about the Irish poet and philosopher, John O’Donohue.

It’s Samhain soon, the Celtic festival that marks the end of harvest and our transition into the darker half of the year, a time when the veil between our world and whatever lies beyond is said to be at its thinnest, something O’Donohue wrote about beautifully.

And so, in this week’s note I thought I’d share with you – below – one of my favourite O’Donohue poems. It’s not, as far as I know, about Samhain, but it does speak to themes of rest and recovery, which feel attuned to the mood of the season.

It’s called Blessing for one who is exhausted, and it’s from the wonderful Benedictus: A Book Of Blessings. I’ve added a few writing prompts at the end. If you feel called to write something in response, and would like to share what you write, please do email me your words. Or perhaps you might just take one of the prompt questions for a walk? The Hunter’s Moon is with us for a few days yet.

Blessing for one who is exhausted

By John O’Donohue

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,

Time takes on the strain until it breaks;

Then all the unattended stress falls in

On the mind like an endless, increasing weight.

The light in the mind becomes dim.

Things you could take in your stride before

Now become laboursome events of will.

Weariness invades your spirit.

Gravity begins falling inside you,

Dragging down every bone.

The tide you never valued has gone out.

And you are marooned on unsure ground.

Something within you has closed down;

And you cannot push yourself back to life.

You have been forced to enter empty time.

The desire that drove you has relinquished.

There is nothing else to do now but rest

And patiently learn to receive the self

You have forsaken for the race of days.

At first your thinking will darken

And sadness take over like listless weather.

The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have travelled too fast over false ground;

Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up

To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain

When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,

Taking time to open the well of colour

That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone

Until its calmness can claim you.

Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.

Learn to linger around someone of ease

Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,

Having learned a new respect for your heart

And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

I’ve shared below some questions that this poem evokes for me. Perhaps they resonate with you? Perhaps you could make a list of your own? What can you write in response?

What is the tide that has gone out?

How might you receive the self you have forsaken?

What small miracles can you notice?

How might you be excessively gentle with yourself?

Who might you usefully stay clear of for a while?

In whose presence might you find a sense of ease and spaciousness?