Calling Forth Our Blessings
Using imagination as a map through the end of winter.
Dear Friend,
Five winters ago—right after my mother died and just as I had finished treatment for breast cancer—the entire season felt grey.
In truth, almost no snow fell in Philadelphia that winter. I spent those months walking through leafless trees, searching for cardinals—a flash of red to break up the monochrome landscape.
At times, this winter has felt similar. It isn’t due to personal loss this time, but rather the collective grief I feel for the brokenness in our country. During these grey days, I found a balm in the poem Beannacht by the late Irish writer John O’Donohue. It felt as though he were speaking directly to me:
On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.
John doesn’t imagine that we, as humans, will be spared the days, months, or years when the weight “deadens on your shoulders.” Instead, he reminds us that support is always swirling around us—in the natural world, from our ancestors, and within our own imaginations.
It’s a beautiful blessing, and it came to mind this week because so many people I speak with are feeling a deep weariness. It’s the “end of winter” slump, but it feels like something more.
Today, I invite you to read and listen to Beannacht (John’s voice alone will lift your spirits—I promise). Afterward, I invite you to pen your own blessing as a kind of protection to guide you through this time.
John O’Donohue – Beannacht / Blessing
For Josie, my mother
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 into 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.
If you have a friend who might be uplifted by these words, send this message their way.
Writing Practice
Set aside 5–7 minutes for this practice. Write in a journal or open a “Journey with the Seasons” document where you can return each Sunday.
Prompt:
John O’Donohue writes: “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.”
Inspired by this “blessing formula,” let’s tap into our imaginations to call forth more light. Make a list of elements that might offer you blessings: trees, animals, minerals, stars, or celestial beings. You might even bring in the Divine, or the faces of family and friends.
May the __________________ of the trees be yours.
May the __________________ of the birds be yours.
May the __________________ of friendship be yours.
Keep going for five minutes. You can write this blessing for yourself, for a loved one, or even for strangers in need of support.
Share your light: If you tried today's writing practice, I would be honored to read one of your "May the..." lines. Let's fill this space with the nourishment, clarity, and fluency we are all seeking right now.
Spiritual Practice for the Week Ahead
When you feel unsteady or alone, return to the blessing you wrote. Read it aloud or silently to yourself. Allow yourself to get quiet and feel the weight of those supportive words.
If you feel called, add to the blessing throughout the week. Place it somewhere you’ll see it—perhaps add a drawing or a bit of collage. If someone comes to mind while you read it, share it with them.
Last call! 🌷 As we watch the snowdrops prepare for another storm, we’re reminded that growth happens even in the cold and the dark. I have a few spaces left for my new workshop series, Writing Into Spring, beginning on February 24.
Together, we’ll use the awakening earth as our muse, moving from the “grey days” of winter into the vibrant possibility of the new season. It’s a dedicated space to deepen the practices we share here every week and to cultivate your own creative growth in community. I’d love to have you join us! Click here to join our creative circle on February 24.🌷
Wishing you a week of unexpected blessings and support! With love, Gabrielle Ariella
Being the word snob I am, I made a mistake and will correct myself. You are evolving.
Good Morning dear Gabrielle. Mazel Tov on moving on to a new occupation. You and I will always be chaverim because you were the first person to support my writing and what a first rate job you did! I want to subscribe here. But I have a question. I made a New Year’s resolution to not give out my card information online anymore. It’s not that I don’t trust you!!! But I’ve been scammed so many times; there are very many people just watching to grab vital information. I’m not paranoid, believe me. So is there any other way I can pay to subscribe? Lots of love, Leslie Mastroianni