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Blessed Be


(Francesca Woodman- Then at one point _Providence, Rhode Island 1978)



Bless the quiet mornings when no one is up and I am alone.

Bless the still, tall trees outside my window.

Bless the bright stars in the night sky. Bless the stillness.

Bless the pile of dishes, and bless my lover, who will do the dishes today. Bless the way he will pile them haphazardly and precariously to dry, and not dry, on and off the rack.

Bless the used green tea bags, and the red polka dot bowl with remnants of cottage cheese in it.

Bless the empty bottle of wine. Bless the half full bottle of wine. Bless the Netflix documentaries.

Bless the exhaustion. Bless the warmth of two bodies sleeping beside each other. Bless the waking up from a good dream.

Bless the surge of tenderness you feel for another human being. Bless the kisses.

Bless the quiet before a day full of talk and doing. Bless the quiet after a day full of talk and doing.

Bless the pile of poetry books.

Bless the Marimekko ceramic mugs.

Bless the bowl of fruit, and the english muffins. Bless the butter dish and the cutting board with crumbs on it. Bless the withered veggies in the crisper drawer.

Bless the dark of the night.

Bless the imagination.

Bless the neighbour's yappy dog.

Bless the car tire that is losing air. Bless intentions.

Bless the cold air that means snow is coming soon.

Bless the long, cold, still, deep winter blustering in after a long summer of out of control wildfires.

Bless each change.

Bless the desire for something new.

Bless the yoga classes I never go to.

Bless the not seeing eye- to eye.

Bless the unavoidable growth.

Bless the yearning to be alive and awake.

Bless the quitting of Christmas.

Bless the new bottle of druid bubble bath in cinnamon, ginger, and ylang yang. Bless the lavender essential oil.

Bless the songs. Bless the piano.

Bless the hand aching from writing.

Bless the squeaky noises the fridge makes.

Bless small groups. Bless people that really care. Bless true, unadulterated kindness.

Bless the misunderstandings. Bless the love that swells up anyway.

Bless all the cats. And all the horses. And all the full moons. And the snowstorms.

Bless brunches, and new friendships, and plaid shirts, and the calendar.

Bless the magic of living. Bless the darkness that teaches me about the magic.

Bless all the past lives. Bless the ancestors. Bless all the people who live from their hearts. Bless all the brave ones. Bless all the shy ones. Bless all the bold ones. Bless all the open ones. Bless all the kind ones. Bless the Dalai Lhama, whose only religion is kindness, in a world filled with violence.

Bless the tarot cards. Bless my birthday month. Bless the Autumn. Bless chocolate, and purple orchids, and beloved childhood books.

Bless the fierce learning curve of self love.

Bless asking for help.

Bless the roots.

Bless the efforts.

Bless the dance.

Bless the smiles.

Bless the cracking open.

Bless the wholeness.

Bless it all.

Blessed be.

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