Last year I took part in a poetry chain mail, sharing poems that help us through difficult times. My friend Mina Haeri, an acupuncturist in London, kindly contributed the following Gaelic blessing:
Deep peace of the running wave to you
Deep peace of the flowing air to you
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you
Deep peace of the shining stars to you
Deep peace of the gentle night to you
Moon and stars pour their healing light on you
The line „Deep peace of the flowing air to you“ made me think about how air is always moving around me and how its flow can have different qualities or interpretations. Usually, I’m not aware of the air unless there’s a breeze and when it’s windy. Or when I hold a finger under my nose and I can sense the stream of air moving in and out of my body during breathing. And I thought it strange that I often forget that the air is there, is a constant inside and outside of me. How can that be, that I forget the air simply because most of the time I can’t see it or touch it? Why is that? Shouldn’t I, as a living being, be wired to sense its presence? I have no answers at all to my question and they seem to have a rabbit hole quality to them. So, for now, I‘ll content myself with taking on the idea of the flowing air as an embodiment of peace in the universe, within and without.