Sometimes it feels so inadequate
to offer you a poem, a prayer,
the small light of a candle,
a hammock woven only of blessings.

Still, as you meet these difficult hours
I wish you the peace of the amber field,
wish you the rose quartz of dawn.

Because it’s what I can do, I offer you poems,
prayers, the small flame of a candle, and
a hammock of blessings woven with dark, with light.

by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

I often find myself listening to people speaking about the ‘difficult hours’ of their life (or difficult days, months, years, for that matter), and feeling so moved by their suffering I wish I could offer all that Rosemerry speaks of in this poem. And yet so often I feel emptyhanded and inadequate in the face of what I see, despite this heart’s yearning to reach out and alleviate that pain somehow…

Recently, we explored the Self-Compassion Break during the Compassion in Action weekend, and after mindfully acknowledging the difficult situation, sensing into the shared humanity of struggle, I asked the question: what could kindness look like here?

One of the participants shared a helpful further question to that: does this long to be “helped,” “heard,” or hugged?” Looking into this further through a little wander into the world wide web, it seems a lot of people are finding this a useful question and are taking it into a range of situations. It looks like it originated from an article written by Jancee Dunn titled “When Someone You Love Is Upset, Ask This One Question”, but it’s traveled far and wide since, including into Sesame Street – which must mean it’s helpful! It certainly has the potential to shortcut the habitual fixing version of helping, and already the openness to enquire in this way can be a gift of true responsiveness.

And of course maybe even offering help, hearing or hugging is not available. Luckily there’s always the possibility of poems, prayers, the small flame of a candle, and a hammock of blessings woven with dark, with light…

Photo by Fulvio Ciccolo on Unsplash

by Frank MacEowen

A heartfelt wish, these words by Frank MacEowen, the author of The Mist-Filled Path. Although it’s summer now, the memory of icy rain – whether it’s the kind that’s fallen from the sky or a more emotional one – is real, and the wish for everyone to find a homecoming feels close for me too. And with so many receiving quite the opposite of a message of preciousness during childhood, how wonderful would it be if we all knew this as an unshakeable truth!

I realise how important this hopefulness is for me, that even when we’ve not received generous loving as children, when there’s a long journey of jilted times, betrayal and loneliness, it’s still possible for something new to take root. For new habits to grow, for insights to lead to more joyful chapters, for the giving and receiving of love to become more possible. And there are so many paths in the world leading in that direction, and I’m very grateful to have found this one of mindfulness and compassion! May we all find a way out of the cold, may we all find a true homecoming in this life…

PS And traveling an uphill path together makes the journey feel less steep, and I’m sure that also goes for practising mindfulness! So if you’d like to practise together with others, there are new courses starting regularly, see here for more details…

Photo by AHMAD BADER on Unsplash

let there be rainfall
when the soil is parched as rock

let there be sunshine
when the barley bends to be cut

let there be rainbows
when the days are short of light

let there be wind
when our boats are turned for home.

by Jane Clarke

A simple, but poignant well-wishing from the Irish poet Jane Clarke, that can be found in her first book of poetry, The River. At least, that’s how it reads to me, accustomed to the loving kindness phrases from the mindfulness tradition that often start with ‘may you be… happy’, or peaceful, or whatever feels relevant at the time. Reading it with fresh eyes, I wonder if there is more of an asking, or praying for in the phrases that start with ‘let there be’, followed by more tangible, external phenomena?

Reflecting on this brought me to the topic of grace, and being open to the goodness of the world, especially when there are difficult circumstances. And to the apparent paradox between well-wishing and Krishnamurti’s sharing of his secret to peace: “I do not mind what happens”. And to the human appreciation of what feels like blessing or good fortune, and how good it can feel to wish this to others…

I wonder what it brings up in you?

And whatever the answer to that question, may you be well and may your days be full of goodness of many kinds…

Photo by Ruan Richard Rodrigues on Unsplash

May your fears yield
Their deepest tranquilities.

May all that is unlived in you,
Blossom into a future,
Graced with love.

by John O’Donohue

The “former Catholic priest turned visionary bestselling author” John O’Donohue has a way of capturing heartfelt well-wishes in a way that lands deeply with me, and this short blessing (from his book Benedictus) is no exception to that. It seemed a fitting way to end 2022 with… and may it be true for you and for all of us!

PS picture by yours truly, taken on day before the winter solstice, when Duddingston Loch in Edinburgh seemed a window into the sky…

by John O’Donohue

Each one of these ‘blessings’ as Irish poet and priest John O’Donohue calls them, is a potent message. They feel touching because it’s as if he is speaking directly to me in the most compassionate of voices. Some of the lines are like gifts which I can unwrap, transmitting to me a mindful way of being.

‘Enter the quiet immensity of your own presence’ – can you feel this right now, if you pause and drop into the heart/body? What a counter-cultural, powerful act it is to feel this, in a world intent on stealing our attention. I think that presence is the first and most fundamental power we possess.

‘May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame’. This is a wonderful way to describe the experience of compassion. I feel that there is something magical about presence. It can be felt as electric, transformative, soothing, shocking. And it can be felt as compassionate, as described here – aflame with the warmth of the heart from within.

I really experience this poem as a receiving. It feels as if O’Donohue is speaking in the most tender and caring way, backed by a wisdom that knows what is good for us human beings on a deep level. We are being pushed and pulled to constantly pursue things/status/activities that are not going to satisfy us deeply or promote lasting wellbeing. The words of this poem are an antidote to the stress, speediness and frankly, the insanity, of the times we live in.

Would you like to spend a weekend in a beautiful secluded place and devote yourself to connecting with ‘the mystery of being here’? Would you like to develop more compassion for yourself and others?

Ps. If you want to discover more about developing mindfulness and compassion come along to a new in-person weekend Mindfulness Level 2 – Responding with Compassion at Samye Ling Monastery, near Lockerbie in mid-August.

Pps. If poetry touches you and you want to discover how you can ‘receive’ a poem’s wisdom more deeply into your practice, have a look at our Mystical Poetry meets Mindfulness offerings here.

Photo by Chris Ensey on Unsplash