Can’t you hear the laughter of the children, the slap of running feet, the rush and tumble of the waves? All caught with an artist’s eye: these small, common blessings. I’m pairing this painting by Sorolla with the poems “Blessings” below by David Whyte as a timely message for this Thanksgiving holiday.

I found Whyte’s poems at at his new Substack site, along with a gorgeous video of him walking through the countryside with a reading of these poems in the background. Well worth watching.

I also want to take this moment to thank you, all the readers of this blog. You have blessed my life with your thoughtful comments and encouragement and with your own blog posts that have inspired me so much. I hope you know how grateful I am for this little community of writers and readers. May you all have a blessed Thanksgiving.

BLESSING FOR SOUND

I thank you,
for the smallest sound,
for the way my ears open
even before my eyes,
as if to remember
the way everything began
with an original, vibrant, note,
and I thank you for this
everyday original music,
always being rehearsed
always being played,
always being remembered
as something new
and arriving, a tram line
below in the city street,
gull cries, or a ship’s horn
in the distant harbour,
so that in waking I hear voices
even where there is no voice
and invitations where
there is no invitation
so that I can wake with you
by the ocean, in summer
or in the deepest seemingly
quietest winter,
and be with you
so that I can hear you
even with my eyes closed,
even with my heart closed,
even before I fully wake.

BLESSING FOR THE LIGHT

I thank you, light, again,
for helping me to find
the outline of my daughter’s face,
I thank you light, for the subtle way
your merest touch gives shape
to such things I could
only learn to love
through your delicate instruction,
and I thank you, this morning
waking again,
most intimately and secretly
for your visible invisibility,
the way you make me look
at the face of the world
so that everything, becomes
an eye to everything else
and so that strangely,
I also see myself being seen,
so that I can be born again
in that sight, so that
I can have this one other way
along with every other way,
to know that I am here.

-by David Whyte from The Bell and the Blackbird