A Blessing for the New Year
Many blessings protected me as a sick infant, as a handicapped young child. Throughout my life, although I wasn’t aware of it, I have been held.
I didn’t know the blessings were there, surrounding me.
Who knew?
I know it now.
Blessings were there then.
Blessings are here now.
Invisible and unspoken.
Fluid and alive.
Protecting me.
Carrying me.
As they are
For all of us,
In our individual,
Unique ways.
However, the first “official” blessing I was to receive was a big deal. I was 13, part of our Confirmation class in my Reform Temple. The big gift of the journey, I thought, would be the blessing that the rabbi would offer each of us, our own individual, distinct blessing.
It was a Thing, a Big Deal.
I was psyched.
As a stutterer, the whole prospect of speaking before the congregation, being seen and being heard in my stammer, in my awkward, gangling 13-year-old-super-self-conscious-self was horrifying. Traumatizing and unbearable. And I did it because I had to. I did it, too, because, well, I would get “my blessing”.
The ceremony was an out-of-body, blurry, shaky mess. I was cold and I was hot. My sprayed hair, after two hours at Helen Gantz’s beauty salon, was sticky and heavy on my head. Sweating profusely in the cold temple, trembling and beside myself, literally, next to or above my body, I stood, with my twelve other classmates, separate from all.
Always separate from.
Always.
I somehow managed my speech. I somehow managed to read the prayer that was assigned to me. Now it came. Now—the blessing. Maybe God could help me. Maybe God could help me to feel better. To not be constantly and forever afraid.
Afraid of talking.
Afraid of saying anything.
Afraid of wanting to kiss girls.
Afraid of anybody seeing me.
I had to hide so deeply from you that I was lost to myself.
I stood before the Rabbi, his hands on my sticky hair.
Maybe this is it, I thought.
Maybe this will help me, will soothe me.
Hands on my head, Rabbi Richmond spoke in a stage whisper that we could probably still hear today. And he said to me,
(This is the exact quote):
“Nan, stay as beautiful as you are tonight.”
I was horrified.
I knew I wasn’t beautiful.
I was positive about that.
This wasn’t a blessing.
This was a lie.
I was ripped off.
God again eluded me.
There was no comfort.
No solace.
I was devastated.
Beyond-disappointed.
Hurt and by myself,
As always.
So.
I continued along—
Along
And
Alone
For a very
Very
Long
Time.
Alone.
~~~
To the contrary of my experience at 13 years old,
What are the elements of a blessing?
- Warmth
- Connection
- Protection
- Care
- Invocation
- Benediction
- Fluidity
- Reciprocal, in the giving, receiving
And the master of blessings, the wonderful John O’Donohue, priest, philosopher, poet—deepest of souls. Here is his Blessing for the New Year:
Beannacht*
For Josie.
On the day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
May the clay dance
To balance you.
And when your eyes
Freeze behind
The gray window
And the ghost of loss
Gets into you,
May a flock of colors
Indigo, red, green
And azure blue
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
In the curragh 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 the 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.
~~~
Dear Friends,
May we be safe and well.
May that place of serenity
Deep inside
Be
Alive
And
Available,
Regardless
Of
Externals.
May we find our way home,
Outside home,
And
Inside
Home.
Stay blessed,
Aruni
* the Gaelic word for blessing