I am awake with confusion and uncertainty. When I feel like this, I often pick up John O’Donohue’s book, Benedictus, A Book of Blessings, to find solace. I have not found solace but am left reflective and am encouraged to climb out of my rut. For Failure:
The will of colour loves how light spreads
Through its diffusions, making textures subtle,
Clothing a landscape in concealment
For colour to keep its mysteries
Hidden from the unready eye
But the light that comes after rain
Is always fierce and clear,
And illuminates the face of everything
Through the transparency of rain
Despite the initial darkening,
This is the light that failure casts.
Beholden no more to the promise
Of what dream and work would bring,
It shows where roots have withered
And where the source has gone dry.
The light of failure has no mercy
On the affections of the heart:
It emerges from beyond the personal,
A wiry, forthright light that likes to see crevices
Open in the shell of a controlled life.
Though cruel now, it serves a deeper kindness,
Wise to the larger call of growth,
It invites us to humility
And the painstaking work of acceptance
So that one day we may look back
In recognition and appreciation
At the disappointment we now endure