and the ghost of loss 
gets in to you
- John O'Donohue 

On Being's weekend newsletter highlighted an archived interview with John O'Donohue in recognition of the anniversary of his death. I started listening to it on the walk home from the gym and became captivated (as I often do) with certain male voices that carry beautiful accents. O'Donohue's brogue slowed down my cadence and the act of breathing actually centered to my core until an exhale escaped me. 

The depth of the conversation was highlighted by an occasional poem. Beannacht was one, which included this line, "and the ghost of loss". It left a residue that cannot quite be explained.

As often is my tendency when captivated by something or someone, I go all in for an hour, a day, or even a decade.  A quick walk to the local library to check out  of "Echoes of Memory", and was delighted to discover that the line of the poem that had sent me into a liminal space of remembering was contained in that volume. Reading it over and over, it is laced with colors and the magic of nature. Perhaps that is what we loved about O'Donohue's writing, especially when it is he who shared his words, his presence seemed to breathe and embody each line so that we too found space within the time of his creations. 

[I wrote this impromptu a week ago & just found in drafts. It didn't feel complete, yet tonight it seems a shame to delete. Funny how we critique our thoughts our words...tonight, though, in the sentiment of Mary Oliver, even the bad should have light of day.]

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