On comma vox

First the comma: Not only is it my favorite punctuation mark, it also exemplifies the pause and reflect nature of blogging. At least, that's what I think I'm doing when I type stuff out and then hit 'Publish Post.' The blog should be titled "Crazy things in my head, typed out for whoever to read" because there's not much focus here on China or women or earth. It wasn't until tonight that I realize people may actually come across this site, especially if they're set up to search key words, phrases, and poems.

Now re: Vox. It means voice. Giving voice to the moments of pause in my life. These moments have become more rare as our family grows. Primary caregivers of high-maintenance dogs and children under 4 should be banned from blogging. Because blogging will always take the place of valuable sleep time.

Thursday Poem - Why I prefer funerals

Some day in the near future when I'm given the choice to attend either a wedding or a funeral, I will most likely choose the funeral. Granted I've made it to many weddings and I remember some of them, and a few I will never forget (and no, I will never forget my own stress-inducing, all-day wedding). Nevertheless, no event provides the existential pause, the soul-churning, life-altering experience that is the funeral.

In case someone is watching, I'm sorry I missed your wedding due to illness or fear of flying with a lap child. Rest assured come hell or high water, I'd rather die than miss your funeral.

A poem from Echoes of Memory by John O'Donohue given at a recent funeral:

Beannacht (Blessing)

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 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 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.

© John O’Donohue. All rights reserved