I stole the title of this post from the book I’m reading in small bits these days. Mornings and evenings. After lunch for a minute. Now, while Dad naps, again. To Bless the Space Between Us, A Book of Blessings is by the late John O’Donahue. Actually, let’s just call him John O’Donahue. The Irish priest, poet and philosopher died unexpectedly in 2008 at age 52 in his sleep while on vacation in France. It can happen. It does. It did. The woman who used to take care of the dogs when we went on vacation but has since moved south used to say that her “late” husband went to the grocery store and hasn’t been back in twenty years. It’s one of those jokes that is sad and funny. The best ones are, aren’t they? I think this year (yes year!) of so many deaths and the worry, isolation and stress requires a few jokes ( what do you call a boomerang that doesn’t return? A stick), and prayers, curses, good thoughts, sage burnings, kindness, truth, Clorox (for cleaning not ingesting) — and a holy silence when it comes to our opinions of neighbors, friends and families that do or don’t follow the same guidelines we do. I mean, it doesn’t help to grouch about it, does it?
I have been anxious this week. I think it has to do with both the hope that we are on the way out of this Covid place but it may still be a little while, and the guilt that I didn’t use the time– 12 whole months– better. I did not create two albums like Taylor Swift. I didn’t write a book. I didn’t even mix any sourdough starter, much less bake bread. (I made brownies last night, but then ate more than I should have.) I’m just hoping to compose a three line haiku that’s good enough to enter in the statewide poetry contest and remember to water the plants. Luckily, Papa Bob is relaxed enough for both of us.
My mind sometimes see-saws between “this is hard” and ” I should be grateful.” That is not helpful either. Swimming is though. It’s great to be back in the pool. I love gliding through the water, the bubbles of breath, splashing, and the blessing of buoyancy. I fell into the easy rhythm of the rosary prayers this morning, and named all the people I care about, and there were enough worries and even more blessings to power me through a 50 minute workout — from a friend waiting for results of a biopsy to all my children and grandchildren.
Which brings me back To Bless the Space Between Us. I learned about John O’Donahue in yoga class, which I have been attending weekly on Zoom for months and months. There seems to be less space between us when we practice together, and at moments it has held me up like the water in the pool.
That happens in Zoom church, too. The format is far from perfect, but it’s still holy, I think because we are trying so hard to stay in touch and to show our faces on the screen and pray in front of God and cats, dogs, sofas, and once a Ford Falcon in a garage.
At the end of one Zoom meeting for a non-profit board I’m on, the very capable chair announced that she may resign, as she was doing “nothing well” these days. Wait! She has it so together. She runs a great meeting. Her hair is cut well. If she’s a mess then I’m a disaster. Everyone was thinking the same thing, because we all said so and cried some and laughed too, and talked about it and were so “out of order” in the very best way that it felt liberating. We didn’t have to put on the good front anymore.That’s a blessing.
If I were her, or a poet, a priest or yogi, I would no doubt say this better, but I’m not. Instead, here’s a blessing from John O’Donahue:
We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.
