Blessings

from VACILLATION

My fiftieth year had come and gone,
I sat, a solitary man,
In a crowded London shop,
An open book and empty cup
On the marble table-top.
While on the shop and street I gazed
My body of a sudden blazed;
And twenty minutes more or less
It seemed, so great my happiness,
That I was blessèd and could bless.
William Butler Yeats

Tonight I received blessings from my men’s group.

It would take more time and space than I care to allot to this blog to adequately describe this group, its purpose, process, and people. Suffice it to say that we have been meeting weekly for over seventeen years. We don’t do what a lot of other men would do at a regular Thursday night meeting. No booze. No gambling. No cigars. No sports. Nor is it a therapy group—although it is highly therapeutic.

It is a space where our authentic selves are allowed not only to exist, but to flourish.

Tonight was my turn to lead. Given that this is my last night with the group before I take off with Debbie for a week in Italy, a few days with family in Stockholm, and then the big ride, I looked forward to this evening with some anticipation. Still, I didn’t know what theme I would introduce until this afternoon.

As I was walking to Como Esta for lunch I thought about how this Shabbat I will attend synagogue and receive or recite—not sure which—the traveler’s blessing. Debbie might even join me! This is something I look forward to, and at the same time it makes me wonder. What is a blessing, anyway? Is it a fiction? Do blessings really exist? Who has the power to bless? Does a blessee have to receive the blessing for the blessor’s action to be valid? What have been the greatest blessings I have received? And what about the opposite—curses?

These were the issues we pondered for nearly two hours. Toward the end I had us pair up and ask one another what blessing the other would like, and then give him that blessing.

It was moving, warm, and deeply felt. I proceeded to close the session by turning down the lights so the lone candle was the only illumination. I began singing a favorite niggun—wordless Jewish melody. After several rounds of the niggun I reached to sound the chime that we use to signal the end of our ritual. Barry interrupted me. I was ready to clobber him, because it was not the first time I had attempted to end a session and he had something to add. I’m glad I didn’t clobber him. He interrupted to suggest that before I depart on my long and to some degree dangerous journey that each of us would give me one more blessing.

I gladly took them in—

Blessings that I find what I seek. Blessings for my physical and metaphysical well being. Blessings for my heart and soul to be deeply connected to source through my wanderings.

It seems, so great my happiness, that I am blessèd and can bless.