Two reasons for posting this poem by John O’ Donohue today.
Firstly, I love the line “the joy that dwells far within slow time” as a way of expressing where we get when we meditate.
Secondly, as a prayer for “One who is Exhausted”, it captures well what happens to many of us at different times in our lives, when we find ourselves “marooned on unsure ground”. The familiar markers are nowhere to be seen, and we feel lost. Rather than panicking at this, or see it as something wrong, the poet encourages us to trust that our soul needs this empty time to recover itself. We learn from the rain – not the heavy thunderstorms of last evening but the soft rain which O’Donohue was familiar with in the West of Ireland and which fell here this morning – to take things gently, change rhythm and to wait.
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 traveled 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 color
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.
John O’Donohue, A Blessing for One who is Exhausted.
