I enjoyed John O’Donohue’s books ‘Anam Cara,’ ‘Eternal Echoes’ and ‘Divine Beauty,’ but this, which I believe was written earlier, but not published until after his death in 2008, for me, overall failed to ignite. I usually leave any philosophical books I read covered in pencilled asterisks and underlinings, but looking back through the pages here, I see just a handful of scrawls. I think the writer was still working at finding his authorial voice. In other books his thoughts seem more concise and focused; often made up of statements that simply seem natural, even common sense. There was a beautifully unforced nature to his writing that didn’t consciously strive for effect, a deceptively simple style that took you along for an enjoyable, enlightening and thought-provoking ride.
It's strange, given the more limited nature of this book (the writer’s thoughts and musings on the four elements - Air, Water, Fire and Stone) that that didn’t serve to focus things more. The too many poems quoted here I found to be a distraction from the text rather than an aid.
John O’Donohue’s brother Pat writes the fine introduction, stating that these were originally written as four booklets, it may go towards explaining the occasional repetition. I liked his brother’s comment that John would say that the valley that he was born and raised in was ‘a private valley with its own private sky.’ Which creates a wonderful image of a man at oneness with things.
John O’Donohue was once a priest, but gave up on it; I think I’d read in another book that he didn’t agree with all that it stood for. He clearly had his issues. On page 126 of the paperback he gives the example of a woman (‘who was a saintly person’) nearing death who feared she was going to hell. He had to persuade her otherwise. But he is clearly unhappy at the cause of this, ‘To have beaten this vision into an innocent person’s heart as a child, a vision that blackened her life and made her eternal life a torment, was a savage violence against a gentle soul.’ On page 121, talking of religious burnings, he states, ‘It would be a wonderful Vatican gesture if a pope were to hold a mass on some such site where people were burned and ask for forgiveness for his church and for the terrible things done to innocent people who were accused of being possessed by the devil…’
But it would be wrong (especially for an atheist like me) to over-emphasise O’Donohue’s questionings. He was still a religious man. Albeit one who liked to talk science and of the ‘big bang’ and evolution as much as the Bible. Apart from the beauty of his writing, what attracted me - even though I knew he was formerly a priest - was the fact that he was not preaching to the religious. His careful choice of words could be read by those of a religion, or not. He was first and foremost a human being made of the very clay and stuff of which everything is made. When he occasionally mentions God, I got the impression that it was not the God of the Old Testament, but something wider. But perhaps that’s simply my interpretation.
As stated earlier, I think the writer was still searching for his much wider, all-encompassing voice here. Certainly a few too many references to angels and the holy spirit for me!
It’s not without some typically fine O’Donohue enlightenments:-
(Page 8) ‘The real difference between people has little to do with where one is or the interests that one has, or the so-called class to which one belongs. The real difference consists in the different species of perception that is active in an individual… Nothing brings you as close to someone as your perception. Nothing distances you more from someone than your perception.’
(Page 11) ‘Some people remain prisoners of the past. Its burdens and mistakes haunt them. They remain bound to the past in negative terms of regret, anger, remorse or bitterness. There are others who are bound to the time that is not yet here, to the time that is not yet real – the future. They remain continually anxious about what will happen or what might fail to happen. Very few people seem to manage to live in the present. Few inhabit the present moment or tune into the Now.’