Yesterday was a good day. A day of friendships, of music, of sunshine, of appreciation. A full day. A day full of blessings. Wedged among planning trips to Clare and Dingle, of appreciating the just right instrument for you, of aromas of chocolate and tea, of scholarships to Swannanoa, of tunes with friends new and old, were the mundane tasks of buying salt and withdrawing cash. Fortunately, thanks to my favorite driving companion, NPR, I stumbled upon a gem of an interview with John O’Donohue, a poet from County Clare. He was new to me. But as I listened to him talk of the landscapes of the Burren, of Anam Cara, of music and poems, of beauty and mystery, and even of corporate leadership, the mundane became the sublime.

If you have a few moments, I invite you to listen to his poem, Beannacht. The words are also provided below.

If you have an hour or more, enjoy the entire interview. You may need to stop now and then to fully savor a few of his comments. Or perhaps, just hearing his lovely Irish accent will suffice.

Beannacht

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 may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak to mind your life.