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Walking in Wonder: Eternal Wisdom for a Modern World
With a Foreword by Krista Tippett–a poignant and beautiful collection of conversations and presentation from John O’Donohue’s work with close friend and former radio broadcaster John Quinn John O'Donohue, beloved author of To Bless the Space Between Us, is widely recognized as one of the most charismatic and inspirational enduring voices on the subjects of spirituality and Celtic mysticism. These timeless exchanges, collated and introduced by Quinn, span a number of years and explore themes such as imagination, landscape, the medieval mystic Meister Eckhart, aging, and death. Presented in O'Donohue's inimitable lyrical style, and filled with rich insights that will feed the "unprecedented spiritual hunger" he observed in modern society, Walking in Wonder is a welcome tribute to a much-loved author whose work still touches the lives of millions around the world.
173 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 6, 2018
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About the author
John O'Donohue
48 books1,155 followersJohn O'Donohue, Ph.D., was born in County Clare in 1956. He spoke Irish as his native language and lived in a remote cottage in the west of Ireland until his untimely death in January 2008. A highly respected poet and philosopher, he lectured throughout Europe and America and wrote a number of popular books, including Anam Cara and To Bless the Space Between Us.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 142 reviews
August 13, 2018
This year began with the word awe. Every year I have a word that shapes and forms how I attempt to approach my daily life, to force myself to see through the lens of that word, as last year the word was joy and I made it my intention to "count it all joy," which is easier to proclaim than to live out. So I awakened each morning with the goal to see the world not through the eyes of pessimism and sarcasm and cynicism, which comes so naturally to our culture, but through a spiritual purposefulness of reverence and wonder. To approach with awe instead of a commercial consumerism is, in itself, an act of defiance. It is a willful choosing to see the world and those in it (both people and nature) not in terms of being a chance for transactions but moments and opportunities of transformations (my own). What I had not expected was that this would be a season of sorrows, one in which my depression returned and that there would be days when simply getting out of bed and living out my day in all of its routines would be overwhelming enough.
Yet, even in the midst of anxieties and uncertainty, I have forced myself to pause, pay attention, and reflect on the beauty that could be found in something as simple and miraculous as a flower that bloomed in our backyard garden or a raindrop that had formed on the leaf of a hydrangea bush or the feeling of sunlight on my skin as I sit in the grass of our yard with my eyes closed. It has also meant that I have sought out books whose gentle, lyrical and lovely wisdom have nourished my spirit and helped me adjust my eyes to seeing the great wonders that our daily lives have to offer but we so often neglect to take the time to just simply see and be with. It meant that I etched out space to read and reflect on poetry, as well as spending quiet timed mediating and allowing for being and not doing. As I read poets like Rilke, Rumi, Hafiz, Wordsworth, Hopkins, Donne, Berry, Oliver, and Heaney, I found that their words penetrated and permeated my daily thinking. Their imagery and metaphor gave meaning to my moments, to how I began to view the world around me. As Mesiter Eckhart wrote, "Every creature is a word of God." To see in that way is to transform everyone and everything, including how we view ourselves.
Reading poetry, walking in nature, sitting in silence all became sacramental and necessary acts as a way to connect with the grace and graciousness of creation. When we see the world as wonderful we find ourselves more easily going about our days in wonder, in the awe instead of estrangement and isolation. So often I could easily get lost in Plato's cave that is social media and forget that it is not the real world. My identity is not found in the likes of a tweet or post.
One of those writers I have turned to is John O'Donohue. Ever since I was given a copy of his Anam Cara years ago by a close friend, I find connection in his writing about the connection between the visible and invisible worlds, between the spiritual and the material ones, about the beauty and fragility of our lives. Earlier in the year I had spent over a month slowly reading and reflecting on his book Beauty: The Invisible Embrace. For me, his work is not meant to be hurriedly sped through, but is meant to be read in passages at a time in order that I might process and ponder the meaning of what he is writing but how to incorporate in my own daily practices the profundity of silence and stillness in the intimacy of eternal grace that is revealed throughout all of creation. O'Donohue's writing opens me up to the wonder, imagination, and possibility that dwells in the rhythms of our transitory daily lives.
"An unexamined life," wrote Socrates, "is not worth living."
As I began Walking in Wonder, I knew that I would once more be re-engaging with the examined life, with the life worth living because it was a life lived in wonder. When we open ourselves up to beauty, the landscapes we live in become illuminated and infused with this spirit of awe and reverence. I knew that John O'Donohue's writing would put me in touch with this gracious and compassionate way of wondering and wandering. It does not take me long to come to this passage:
If you look as thought as a circle, and if half the arc of the circle is the infusion of wonder, then the thought will be kind, it will be gracious, and it will be compassionate, because wonder and compassion are sisters.
The phrase "wonder and compassion are sisters" resonated deeply within me; as if someone had rung a bell in my spirit. "Wonder and compassion are sisters." I loved this idea of sisterhood between wonder (which the dictionary defines as a feeling of surprise, mingled with admiration, caused by something beautiful, unexpected, unfamiliar, or inexplicable) with compassion (defined as a strong feeling of sympathy and sadness for other people's suffering and a desire to help). This means that to have wonder, we must also have compassion (compassion for others and for our environment, for the natural world). We embrace the suffering of another, or of our planet, and strive to help or alleviate the suffering in any way that we are capable. Wonder and compassion mean connection. They remove the delusion that we are not responsible for each other or for nature. We are custodians and stewards of both our inner and outer worlds. We are to balance solitude with community.
I also loved that he expressed "thought as a circle." What immediately came to mind when I read this was Richard Rohr's book on the Trinity entitled The Divine Dance. The Trinity as a divine circle, unity, and completeness. The circle as a dance which we are invited to join into. It's a concept that brings Matisse's wonderful and vivid painting The Dance up from my subconscious. Every time I look at his bright, bold painting, I long to become one of those dancers. There are a joy and a spirit of life and hope in the painting that fills me with a desire to be a part of it, a part of that circle. A dance is not a closed circle but one that welcomes others to join in, to become a part of the dance. I love this image of the Trinity as one of gladness and dancing and laughter and movement - all with the intent that those who see the dancing will heed the call and become a dancer themselves.
The Celtic circle represents unity in spirit. It's also known as the Trinity Knot. It is tri-cornered. Mind, body, soul. Past, present, future. Life, death, rebirth. Or, as Richard Rohr writes, "God for us, God alongside us, God within us."
This is part of why I read and return to John O'Donohue's writing. When I read him, I become more contemplative. When I engage in his writing, I find myself engaging with my own thoughts and inner world, but also with how I approach the outer world. True contemplation can never be an isolated or isolating act. Contemplation brings forth awareness and awareness should lead to compassion and this compassion is lived out in community. The solitary leads to our discovering our commonality with others. We move beyond the symbolic to the societal. Returning to Meister Eckhart, "What we plant in the soil of contemplation, we shall reap in the harvest of action." This requires us all to enter into the sacred circle and begin the holy dance.
Yet, even in the midst of anxieties and uncertainty, I have forced myself to pause, pay attention, and reflect on the beauty that could be found in something as simple and miraculous as a flower that bloomed in our backyard garden or a raindrop that had formed on the leaf of a hydrangea bush or the feeling of sunlight on my skin as I sit in the grass of our yard with my eyes closed. It has also meant that I have sought out books whose gentle, lyrical and lovely wisdom have nourished my spirit and helped me adjust my eyes to seeing the great wonders that our daily lives have to offer but we so often neglect to take the time to just simply see and be with. It meant that I etched out space to read and reflect on poetry, as well as spending quiet timed mediating and allowing for being and not doing. As I read poets like Rilke, Rumi, Hafiz, Wordsworth, Hopkins, Donne, Berry, Oliver, and Heaney, I found that their words penetrated and permeated my daily thinking. Their imagery and metaphor gave meaning to my moments, to how I began to view the world around me. As Mesiter Eckhart wrote, "Every creature is a word of God." To see in that way is to transform everyone and everything, including how we view ourselves.
Reading poetry, walking in nature, sitting in silence all became sacramental and necessary acts as a way to connect with the grace and graciousness of creation. When we see the world as wonderful we find ourselves more easily going about our days in wonder, in the awe instead of estrangement and isolation. So often I could easily get lost in Plato's cave that is social media and forget that it is not the real world. My identity is not found in the likes of a tweet or post.
One of those writers I have turned to is John O'Donohue. Ever since I was given a copy of his Anam Cara years ago by a close friend, I find connection in his writing about the connection between the visible and invisible worlds, between the spiritual and the material ones, about the beauty and fragility of our lives. Earlier in the year I had spent over a month slowly reading and reflecting on his book Beauty: The Invisible Embrace. For me, his work is not meant to be hurriedly sped through, but is meant to be read in passages at a time in order that I might process and ponder the meaning of what he is writing but how to incorporate in my own daily practices the profundity of silence and stillness in the intimacy of eternal grace that is revealed throughout all of creation. O'Donohue's writing opens me up to the wonder, imagination, and possibility that dwells in the rhythms of our transitory daily lives.
"An unexamined life," wrote Socrates, "is not worth living."
As I began Walking in Wonder, I knew that I would once more be re-engaging with the examined life, with the life worth living because it was a life lived in wonder. When we open ourselves up to beauty, the landscapes we live in become illuminated and infused with this spirit of awe and reverence. I knew that John O'Donohue's writing would put me in touch with this gracious and compassionate way of wondering and wandering. It does not take me long to come to this passage:
If you look as thought as a circle, and if half the arc of the circle is the infusion of wonder, then the thought will be kind, it will be gracious, and it will be compassionate, because wonder and compassion are sisters.
The phrase "wonder and compassion are sisters" resonated deeply within me; as if someone had rung a bell in my spirit. "Wonder and compassion are sisters." I loved this idea of sisterhood between wonder (which the dictionary defines as a feeling of surprise, mingled with admiration, caused by something beautiful, unexpected, unfamiliar, or inexplicable) with compassion (defined as a strong feeling of sympathy and sadness for other people's suffering and a desire to help). This means that to have wonder, we must also have compassion (compassion for others and for our environment, for the natural world). We embrace the suffering of another, or of our planet, and strive to help or alleviate the suffering in any way that we are capable. Wonder and compassion mean connection. They remove the delusion that we are not responsible for each other or for nature. We are custodians and stewards of both our inner and outer worlds. We are to balance solitude with community.
I also loved that he expressed "thought as a circle." What immediately came to mind when I read this was Richard Rohr's book on the Trinity entitled The Divine Dance. The Trinity as a divine circle, unity, and completeness. The circle as a dance which we are invited to join into. It's a concept that brings Matisse's wonderful and vivid painting The Dance up from my subconscious. Every time I look at his bright, bold painting, I long to become one of those dancers. There are a joy and a spirit of life and hope in the painting that fills me with a desire to be a part of it, a part of that circle. A dance is not a closed circle but one that welcomes others to join in, to become a part of the dance. I love this image of the Trinity as one of gladness and dancing and laughter and movement - all with the intent that those who see the dancing will heed the call and become a dancer themselves.
The Celtic circle represents unity in spirit. It's also known as the Trinity Knot. It is tri-cornered. Mind, body, soul. Past, present, future. Life, death, rebirth. Or, as Richard Rohr writes, "God for us, God alongside us, God within us."
This is part of why I read and return to John O'Donohue's writing. When I read him, I become more contemplative. When I engage in his writing, I find myself engaging with my own thoughts and inner world, but also with how I approach the outer world. True contemplation can never be an isolated or isolating act. Contemplation brings forth awareness and awareness should lead to compassion and this compassion is lived out in community. The solitary leads to our discovering our commonality with others. We move beyond the symbolic to the societal. Returning to Meister Eckhart, "What we plant in the soil of contemplation, we shall reap in the harvest of action." This requires us all to enter into the sacred circle and begin the holy dance.
January 14, 2023
I love John O'Donohue. I am grateful for this new volume of his gentle reflections. They're peaceful, calming but not lightweight. Strangely enough -- or perhaps not at all strangely -- he sounds a lot like Thich Nhat Hanh in his style and word choice. If I picked up some of these essays without knowing that they had been written by an Irish poet, I would have mistaken them for Thay's work.
I love the way this book is designed and arranged. It lacks an index (boo!) but its chapters are short and organized by one-word titles that makes it easy for a preacher to get to what she needs.
There is some material from O'Donohue's other books woven through these interview questions, which I saw as a benefit rather than a "hack."
O'Donohue isn't a stunningly original thinker but he isn't trying to be. What he is trying to do is articulate spiritual realities that are by their very nature inarticulable, and I appreciate that so much. I am especially grateful for his exploration of that ineffable thing we refer to as Presence. As a child, I felt a Presence in nature and in energy between people and in the arts. I eventually adopted the name God for that presence. As clergy, I am also interested in the subject of "ministerial presence," and O'Donohue has got me thinking about how Presence and presence relate.
Long live John O'Donohue. I am sorry we lost him so young.
I love the way this book is designed and arranged. It lacks an index (boo!) but its chapters are short and organized by one-word titles that makes it easy for a preacher to get to what she needs.
There is some material from O'Donohue's other books woven through these interview questions, which I saw as a benefit rather than a "hack."
O'Donohue isn't a stunningly original thinker but he isn't trying to be. What he is trying to do is articulate spiritual realities that are by their very nature inarticulable, and I appreciate that so much. I am especially grateful for his exploration of that ineffable thing we refer to as Presence. As a child, I felt a Presence in nature and in energy between people and in the arts. I eventually adopted the name God for that presence. As clergy, I am also interested in the subject of "ministerial presence," and O'Donohue has got me thinking about how Presence and presence relate.
Long live John O'Donohue. I am sorry we lost him so young.
May 14, 2023
John O’Donohue had a phenomenal understanding of the symbiosis between nature, spirit, time, and God. He could seamlessly explain deep philosophical ideas using his Irish homeland, prayer, and poetry. This collection of some of his thoughts was excellently arranged in a moving tribute to a wise, well-lived life. I particularly loved his musings on absence and memory; that chapter alone made the entire collection worthwhile.
January 16, 2019
Kind and necessary words for our bewildering times. Keep in mind this work is a compilation of audio interviews with O’Donohue so it doesn’t go deeply on some topics and some of his phrasing is repetitive because O’Donohue is speaking off the cuff albeit thoughtfully. Anyone who wants more can pick up the lovely books O’Donohue wrote before he died. But this book is a refreshing quick read when one needs a reminder of light and what’s important.
May 23, 2022
After visiting Ireland back in September and October of 2021, I wanted go to back and re-read this powerful book by John O' Donohue. It was very encouraging reading it, and helped me get out of a wretched funk of depression. This wonderful book explores Celtic spirituality, the importance of community, art, the Eucharist, liturgy, the triumph of God's goodness and love over evil and sin, and having a balance between your reason and your emotions. My favorite chapter was the one called "Balance." I highly recommend this book!
December 23, 2020
A book SO GOOD I couldn't space it out beyond a day to be honest. There may be a pre-disposed bias rating in my stars because John O' hung the moon in my opinion. His words sparked my love for poetry in his collection To Bless the Space Between and the way he can create syntax that demonstrates feelings/thoughts/worlds/moments has been anchoring when I can't seem to find the words myself. Austin and I walked into a bookstore and he created a mission to check out with a surprise book for each other and I squealed for so many reasons at this lil wonder.
Reasons to rave about it:
-Krista Tippett wrote the forward (thx u to On Being)
-It deals with the topic of wonder and I have been thinking a lot recently about the concept of awe in our monotonous routines
-He covers topics of imagination, memory, fear, friendship, landscape, absence, balance and death (just to name a few)
-He sprinkles his own poems and others (s/o Wendell Berry on one page)
-His love for conversation "'When was your last great conversation with someone?' Great conversation is the enemy of falsity, facade and shallowness. It chases the truth of things, it demolishes the flimsy foundation of facade and it penetrates the depths so as to soar into unfolding possibility."
-The end talking about his own death and the peaks of his existence actually made me cry:
"If my own death were to occur tomorrow, what would be the peaks of my existence? The faces of m beloved, and of others I love and those who love me. The dark valleys of devastation; mountains; the ocean; the numinous music of words; the endless festival of the senes; the excitement and beauty of woman; the joy of music; memories of hard but satisfying days of work on the bog, in the meadows, building walls; conversations that will sing in the mind; the harp cello of the Irish language; the Eucharist, and the celebration of the body in love; being listened to when words were frail and suffering was sore; the return of the swallows to the shed; my uncle's companionship; my father's mystical sense; and my mother's love and trust in my being." :') same.
Okay I'll stop here, but I have 10 more QOTB if you want to hear one's specifically on the importance of questions- haller.
Thank you John O' for your service to the world of words.
Reasons to rave about it:
-Krista Tippett wrote the forward (thx u to On Being)
-It deals with the topic of wonder and I have been thinking a lot recently about the concept of awe in our monotonous routines
-He covers topics of imagination, memory, fear, friendship, landscape, absence, balance and death (just to name a few)
-He sprinkles his own poems and others (s/o Wendell Berry on one page)
-His love for conversation "'When was your last great conversation with someone?' Great conversation is the enemy of falsity, facade and shallowness. It chases the truth of things, it demolishes the flimsy foundation of facade and it penetrates the depths so as to soar into unfolding possibility."
-The end talking about his own death and the peaks of his existence actually made me cry:
"If my own death were to occur tomorrow, what would be the peaks of my existence? The faces of m beloved, and of others I love and those who love me. The dark valleys of devastation; mountains; the ocean; the numinous music of words; the endless festival of the senes; the excitement and beauty of woman; the joy of music; memories of hard but satisfying days of work on the bog, in the meadows, building walls; conversations that will sing in the mind; the harp cello of the Irish language; the Eucharist, and the celebration of the body in love; being listened to when words were frail and suffering was sore; the return of the swallows to the shed; my uncle's companionship; my father's mystical sense; and my mother's love and trust in my being." :') same.
Okay I'll stop here, but I have 10 more QOTB if you want to hear one's specifically on the importance of questions- haller.
Thank you John O' for your service to the world of words.
March 11, 2022
Loved the audiobook, read by John’s brother in the Co Clare accent. A few nuggets that kept me thinking:
With privilege there must be absolute integrity.
The imagination is the gateway to a full life, and people who awaken their imagination come into a force field of possibility, and there are doors open everywhere.
There is incredible symmetry in a tree- between its inner life and outer life, between it’s rooted memory and it’s external active presence. A tree grows up and grows down at once and produces enough branches to incarnate its wildness. It reaches for the sky, and it reaches for the source, all in one seamless movement.
With privilege there must be absolute integrity.
The imagination is the gateway to a full life, and people who awaken their imagination come into a force field of possibility, and there are doors open everywhere.
There is incredible symmetry in a tree- between its inner life and outer life, between it’s rooted memory and it’s external active presence. A tree grows up and grows down at once and produces enough branches to incarnate its wildness. It reaches for the sky, and it reaches for the source, all in one seamless movement.
March 8, 2021
4.5. Elegant, wise, compassionate. I listened to the audio version narrated by John’s brother. It felt like a deep and soulful meandering through the woods and into the light. I followed up with a hard copy so I could re-read some of the poems and passages. It is a great loss that he is no longer with us.
March 22, 2023
There is a multitude of thoughts I'd like to share here, but to keep it brief, this book is a precious gem of Celtic wisdom. It immediately became a shelter of poetic enrichment, mindful presence, inquiry of mystery, compassion, beauty and gratitude. It was a soothing balm of mindful illumination, during a time of deep darkness and isolation for me. O'Donohue's Celtic introspection and mysticism goes beyond traditional inquiry, with his marriage of Christianity and traces of Buddhism, he bewitchingly crosses the threshold of the ever infinite study of presence, vitality, obscure beauty and, essentially, purpose of living. Blending his poetry with the conversations so eloquently captured by John Quinn, "Walking in Wonder" acts as a lantern of light, irradiating the much needed lessons of valuing life and our precious, ephemeral presence here as humans. It's a beautiful statement of honesty and depth that I'd highly recommend to any reader willing to confront the complexity, as well as astonishing wonder, of mortality and the gift that is life.
February 18, 2019
I forget how this book came to my attention, but I'm so grateful it did and that our public library system had it for me to read. I had never read much of John O'Donohue's poetry, but who could resist a subtitle like "Eternal Wisdom for a Modern World." I am in need of wisdom now more than ever before.
The layout of the book is quite original, although there are themed chapters. Interspersed between O'Donohue's commentary are not only some of his previously published poems, but the poems of others like Wendell Berry and Naomi Shihab Nye. Each themed chapter is introduced by former National Irish Radio host John Quinn, a good friend of O'Donohue's.
My favorite chapters were those toward the end, Balance, Aging, Death, perhaps because I am a Libra who is aging and thinking about my own mortality. I found myself involuntarily murmuring "wow" as I read this book, because of some the words of Quinn, others from O'Donohue.
There is definitely a Catholic thread running through the book, but even though I'm not interested in religion, I didn't find this part disturbing. It contributed to the feeling of knowing John O'Donohue better. And I am grateful I do now, thanks to this lovely book. I would like to own this so I can return to it often.
The layout of the book is quite original, although there are themed chapters. Interspersed between O'Donohue's commentary are not only some of his previously published poems, but the poems of others like Wendell Berry and Naomi Shihab Nye. Each themed chapter is introduced by former National Irish Radio host John Quinn, a good friend of O'Donohue's.
My favorite chapters were those toward the end, Balance, Aging, Death, perhaps because I am a Libra who is aging and thinking about my own mortality. I found myself involuntarily murmuring "wow" as I read this book, because of some the words of Quinn, others from O'Donohue.
There is definitely a Catholic thread running through the book, but even though I'm not interested in religion, I didn't find this part disturbing. It contributed to the feeling of knowing John O'Donohue better. And I am grateful I do now, thanks to this lovely book. I would like to own this so I can return to it often.
June 5, 2020
John O’Donahue is one of the most influential thinkers in my life right now. I happened upon this title. It’s quirky: these are transcripts of radio shows he did. Some resonated more than others, but the ones on wonder and on old age were full of cyst realized wisdom. So glad I found this book.
May 5, 2019
Highly recommend listening to these timeless thoughts rather than reading. His lovely Irish lilt imbues the words with even more depth, like a gentle conversation with a friend instead of a treatise or lecture. I'll be listening again on my hiking trip in Ireland as something different stands out each time.
June 7, 2021
This was my first O'Donohue, and I think it shouldn't have been. This seems to be a compilation of some of his other work, and it's not as cohesive as I anticipated. I definitely plan to read some of his other works, and there were some truly beautiful moments in this collection, but I wouldn't recommend starting here if you're reading O'Donohue for the first time.
December 11, 2019
i keep trying to get into john o'donohue (especially because i'm obsessed with krista tippett and she adores him) ... but he just isn't for me, it seems.
July 18, 2024
this book has been a real gift in my life. this was my first time encountering John O’Donahue’s voice and I’m truly stunned by the clarity with which he sees the world. wonder, landscape, absence, balance… each of these he expands and illuminates with wisdom. I will be returning to these words often.
to think that this book is the result of his friend simply recording his words is amazing, and makes me want to record the beautiful conversations I’m witness to in my own life
also—the audible version of this read by his brother is a DELIGHT (and helped me absorb the words alongside the print book even more!)
to think that this book is the result of his friend simply recording his words is amazing, and makes me want to record the beautiful conversations I’m witness to in my own life
also—the audible version of this read by his brother is a DELIGHT (and helped me absorb the words alongside the print book even more!)
February 28, 2021
I purchased both the written words and the audiobook and I have not regretted owning both. John O'Donohue's words read by his brother Patrick in that beautiful Irish accent is soothing, comforting - like listening to an old friend. What a "wonder-full" combination for calming and meditative thought in a troubled world.
February 2, 2023
This incredibly beautiful audiobook was read by John O’Donohue’s brother Pat. I had heard the author, John O’Donohue, an old interview on Krista Tippetts program, On Being. The interview was mesmerizing. The language in this book is so poetic and the imagery is stunning. O’Donohue explores the depths of our psyche and our relationship with the spiritual world.
November 8, 2019
Wonderful wisdom.
Very refreshing and very necessary in this modern world.
Very refreshing and very necessary in this modern world.
April 2, 2023
Pick it up every day and read a passage to get through the Day.
I’m not a Believer but I have no problem drawing on O’Donohue’s Reflections on Life and the Wisdom this book offers. His Brother has done a beautiful job of condensing John’s Poetry, Blessings and his wide-ranging Influences into a work accessible to anyone of any age.
I would treat it the way Evangelicals read passages from their Bible, except that it’s much better written and more useful in navigating the Realities of Life on this Planet.
This is a Five Star Book if there ever was one. *****
I’m not a Believer but I have no problem drawing on O’Donohue’s Reflections on Life and the Wisdom this book offers. His Brother has done a beautiful job of condensing John’s Poetry, Blessings and his wide-ranging Influences into a work accessible to anyone of any age.
I would treat it the way Evangelicals read passages from their Bible, except that it’s much better written and more useful in navigating the Realities of Life on this Planet.
This is a Five Star Book if there ever was one. *****
January 23, 2024
Just another beautiful, heartfelt entry by this wonderful soul, who departed the world far too soon.
January 20, 2024
My favorite book in a while. In a world seemingly dominated by psychologists and evolutionary biologists explaining our human reality, John O'Donohue's beautiful, lyrical voice offers a mystical alternative whose beauty is only matched by its depth.
May 20, 2020
*Review* I loved this. I recently heard the beautiful interview John O'Donohue gave before he died for the On Being project (I think that's the title). I was so impressed with his gentleness and wonder at the world. That interview encouraged me to seek out this book and I'm glad I did. I listened to the audio book and that was wonderful. It is read by his brother, Patrick, and the Irish accent alone makes this a soothing meditation on life, death, aging and the earth. Really lovely especially in these stressful times.
March 2, 2022
Beautiful
These compiled reflections are thoughtful, wise, and wordsmithed in such a way that the turns of phrase stick in my brain long after reading. So many of his words resonated deeply with seasons of trial I've drudged through for years now and there's something healing about beautiful words on mundane or ugly topics like loss and transience.
Here are the words I most want to remember:
On Transience:
Theresa of Albina - In bad, lonesome, difficult times, you should never forget that this too will actually pass, so there is a shelter and a kindness in that acknowledgement of transience. But there is also a desperate loneliness in transience, in knowing that, one that you love, the beautiful time that you are having, the lovely things that are happening to you will all actually disappear.
On Memory:
It's sad that people don't use their good memories and revist again and again the harvest of memory that is within them. And live out of the riches of that harvest rather than out of the poverty of their woundedness.
On Shelter:
Truth and Method - a horizon is something toward which we move, but it is also something that moves with us...we are always moving to a new horizon, not abandoning the former ones, but in the graciousness of memories' loyalty, actually brining them along with you...Wonder is the sister of novelty, newness, and freshness
On Imagination:
The kind of knowing that is in imagination is knowing through exploration - not predetermined concepts or ideas
Facts are retarded possibilities - pssiibilities actualized
On Wildness:
One of the reasons the postmodern life is so packed is that we have lost touch with our wildness. One of the most natural ways of coming home to your wildness is to go out into a wild place.
On Absence and Loss:
Absence is the sister of presence. The opposite of presence is not absence, but vacancy. Vacancy is a neutral indifferent - a blank kind of space...Absence has vitality in it and it is infused with longing...roots of word absence - Ab Esse (to be elsewhere)...to be away from a person or place...all absence holds the echo of some fractured intimacy, but the intimacy came first, and then, when it was broken, the absence filled the heart.
Midhir and Itamn:
As the world gets older, it becomes more full with these invisible ruins of vanished presence - Emily Dickinson: "Absence disembodies, so does death, hiding individuals from the earth."
We are so vulnerable to absence because we desire presence so deeply.
On Welcomin Absence:
(when someone recognizes you in a grocery store?)...When someone you haven't seen in ten years appears at the door, don't start singing him all your new songs. You will never catch up. Walk around, feeling like a leaf. Know that you could umble at any second, then decide what to do with your time.
On Prayers of the Faithful:
May I have the courage today to live the life that I would love, to postpone my dream no longer, but do at last what I came here for, and waste my heart on fear no more.
On Temperament, Not Time:
They never manage to get old at all. For some strange reason, the passionate heart never ages and if you keep your eros and your passion alive, then in some subtle, inevitable way, you are already in the eternal world
These compiled reflections are thoughtful, wise, and wordsmithed in such a way that the turns of phrase stick in my brain long after reading. So many of his words resonated deeply with seasons of trial I've drudged through for years now and there's something healing about beautiful words on mundane or ugly topics like loss and transience.
Here are the words I most want to remember:
On Transience:
Theresa of Albina - In bad, lonesome, difficult times, you should never forget that this too will actually pass, so there is a shelter and a kindness in that acknowledgement of transience. But there is also a desperate loneliness in transience, in knowing that, one that you love, the beautiful time that you are having, the lovely things that are happening to you will all actually disappear.
On Memory:
It's sad that people don't use their good memories and revist again and again the harvest of memory that is within them. And live out of the riches of that harvest rather than out of the poverty of their woundedness.
On Shelter:
Truth and Method - a horizon is something toward which we move, but it is also something that moves with us...we are always moving to a new horizon, not abandoning the former ones, but in the graciousness of memories' loyalty, actually brining them along with you...Wonder is the sister of novelty, newness, and freshness
On Imagination:
The kind of knowing that is in imagination is knowing through exploration - not predetermined concepts or ideas
Facts are retarded possibilities - pssiibilities actualized
On Wildness:
One of the reasons the postmodern life is so packed is that we have lost touch with our wildness. One of the most natural ways of coming home to your wildness is to go out into a wild place.
On Absence and Loss:
Absence is the sister of presence. The opposite of presence is not absence, but vacancy. Vacancy is a neutral indifferent - a blank kind of space...Absence has vitality in it and it is infused with longing...roots of word absence - Ab Esse (to be elsewhere)...to be away from a person or place...all absence holds the echo of some fractured intimacy, but the intimacy came first, and then, when it was broken, the absence filled the heart.
Midhir and Itamn:
As the world gets older, it becomes more full with these invisible ruins of vanished presence - Emily Dickinson: "Absence disembodies, so does death, hiding individuals from the earth."
We are so vulnerable to absence because we desire presence so deeply.
On Welcomin Absence:
(when someone recognizes you in a grocery store?)...When someone you haven't seen in ten years appears at the door, don't start singing him all your new songs. You will never catch up. Walk around, feeling like a leaf. Know that you could umble at any second, then decide what to do with your time.
On Prayers of the Faithful:
May I have the courage today to live the life that I would love, to postpone my dream no longer, but do at last what I came here for, and waste my heart on fear no more.
On Temperament, Not Time:
They never manage to get old at all. For some strange reason, the passionate heart never ages and if you keep your eros and your passion alive, then in some subtle, inevitable way, you are already in the eternal world
September 4, 2022
I’m pretty sure the top of my head was screwed off and light and goodness flooded in.
February 23, 2020
One of the questions that John loved to pose was “when was your last great conversation with someone?” Good conversation chases the truth of things, it demolishes the flimsy foundation of facade, and it penetrates the depths so as to soar unto unfolding possibility.
A wonderful book of conversations that a journalist had with poet and theologian John O’Donohue over the years, and a portrait of a beautiful soul full of beauty and grace, trying to help us navigate being alive instead of sleepwalking. I am a leaf, and what I choose to spend my time on is my calling, and my ‘thought-lens’ is challenged and expanded exactly the way I need it to be.
Imagination according to William Blake is about the awakening to and recognition of the sacredness of all the difference that there is. Where the imagination is alive, wonder is completely alive. Where the imagination is alive, possibility is awake.
Memory now seems focused almost exclusively on past woundedness and hurt, some of it real, some induced. It’s sad that people don’t use their good memories and revisit again and again the harvest of memory that is within them, and live out of the riches of that harvest, rather than the poverty of their woundedness.
Landscape has a soul and a presence, and landscape- living in the mode of silence0 is always wrapped in seamless prayer.
Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.
I love mountains. I feel that mountains are huge contemplatives. They are there and they are in the presence up to their necks and they are still in it and with it and within it. One of the lovely ways to pray is to take your body out into the landscape and to be still in it. Your body is made out of clay, so your body is actually a miniature landscape that has got up from the earth and now walking on the normal landscape.
There is incredible symmetry in a tree, between its inner life and its outer life,between its rooted memory and its external active presence. A tree grows up and down at once and produces enough branches too incarnate it’s wild divinity. It doesn’t limit itself- it reaches for the sky and it reaches for the source, all in one kind of seamless movement. So I think landscape is an incredible, mystical teacher, and when you begin to tune into its sacred presence, something shifts inside you.
FOR A NEW BEGINNING
In out of the way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.
For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you have outgrown.
It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.
Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.
There is nothing as intimate as a human being. Every human person is inevitably involved with two worlds: the world they carry within them and the world that is out there.
All thinking that is imbued with wonder is graceful and gracious thinking.
One of the most exciting and energizing forms of thought is the question. I always think that the question is like a lantern. It illuminates new landscapes and new areas as it moves. Therefore, the question always assumes that there are many different dimensions to a though that you are either blind to or that are not available to you. One of the reasons that we wonder is because we are limited, and that limitation is one of the great gateways of wonder.
There was a contest in Ancient Greece to find out who could write a sentence that would somehow always be true. The sentence that won the competition was “This too shall pass.”
We should never forget that death is waiting for us. A man once said to a friend of mine in Gaelic, ‘we’ll be lying down in the earth for about fifteen million years, and we have short exposure.’ You have to begin to transfigure your fear...at the end of your life, when death comes, it won’t be some kind of monster, but it can actually be a friend who hides the most truthful image of your soul.
FOR EQUILIBRIUM
Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,
May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.
As the wind loves to call things to dance,
May your gravity be lightened by grace.
Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,
May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.
As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free maybe you be about who you become.
As silence smiles on the other side of what’s said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.
As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.
May your prayer of listening deepen enough
To hear in the depths the laughter of God.
The French phenomenologist Merleau-Ponty says the body is not an object to think about. Rather, it is a grouping of lived-through meanings, which move towards equilibrium.
Walk around feeling like a leaf. Know you could tumble any second, then decide what to do with your time.
One of the greatest tragedies of our time is that everyone is ripping off second hand thinking. We can liberate ourselves by trusting our own instinct and finding the thought-lenses which show us our world in the way we need to see it, that can calm and bring us home, and also challenge us.
Thoughts are our inner senses. Meister Eckhart
January 1, 2022
This was my first experience delving in Celtic poet John O’Donahue’s work and I found it grounding and meaningful in this uncertain time. O’Donahue, who died prematurely, is remembered by his friend John Quinn who provides context for O’Donahue’s speeches, poems, essays and reflections. I especially appreciated the chapters on absence, loss, and grief. In blessing the time death, O’Donahue’s poem “Entering Death” reads: “May there be a beautiful welcome for you in the home you are going to. You are not going somewhere strange merely back to the home you have never left.” I find great comfort in this sentiment and am grateful for the words that linger even after death.
November 13, 2018
It has been a decade since O'Donohue's passing. Who could resist hearing a fresh word? It speaks to our longing to still have him with us, teaching us. This is a great collection of wisdom from various conversations O'Donohue had, notably a series of talks he had as a guest and friend of John Quinn. It includes some of John's reflections on Meister Eckhart's musings, a wonderful contemplation of 'absence,' and words on aging and death. This book captures the great mixture of spiritual and existential realities.
"While we are here in the world,
where is it that we are absent from?
"While we are here in the world,
where is it that we are absent from?
May 14, 2025
It’s rare to find a book that does not simply speak to the intellect or heart alone, but rather awakens the soul. Walking in Wonder is such a book.
Reading John O’Donohue feels less like encountering an author and more like being welcomed into the home of a spiritual elder—one who speaks with the cadence of poetry, the depth of philosophy, and the warmth of a lifelong friend. This collection of conversations between O’Donohue and Irish broadcaster John Quinn unfolds gently, meditatively, and at times with a quiet astonishment. Yet beneath its apparent ease is a penetrating wisdom that continues to reverberate in me long after closing the final page.
At its core, Walking in Wonder is a summons—to attend more fully to the mystery of our lives, to develop a more spacious inner world, and to inhabit the ordinary with reverence. O’Donohue writes, “So many people are frightened by the wonder of their own presence.” That line struck me with unusual force. It reminded me how often we shy away from the grandeur of simply being alive, of possessing the capacity to imagine, to love, to create, to endure.
What O’Donohue understands—and communicates with exquisite grace—is that wonder is not a luxury. It is not the domain of poets or mystics alone. Wonder is the animating spirit behind compassionate thinking, deep imagination, and soulful presence. “All thinking that is imbued with wonder,” he writes, “is graceful and gracious thinking.” This is no sentimental claim. It is an invitation to live differently: to think with depth, to speak with care, and to act with a reverence for the sacred in the everyday.
Throughout the book, O’Donohue reclaims language that our culture has allowed to grow thin: presence, absence, aging, landscape, soul. Each is re-examined with a Celtic lens that holds space for paradox and poetry. “The opposite of presence is not absence, but vacancy,” he writes. In this, I found profound comfort. Absence—particularly after the loss of my own father—was no longer a void, but a kind of quiet fullness. A threshold. A companion. A continuation.
Equally compelling is his reflection on the inner world: “Each one of us is the custodian of an inner world that we carry around with us.” O’Donohue gives permission to explore one’s interiority not as retreat, but as necessary engagement. Our inner life, he suggests, is not secondary to the ‘real world’—it is the ground from which all meaningful perception arises. I found myself reflecting on how little time I grant to solitude, how rarely I allow the silence to speak. This book gave me cause to return to those practices that deepen, rather than distract.
His reflections on nature and landscape were among the most affecting for me personally. O’Donohue views the land not as scenery, but as a living presence—an ancient memory that holds us. “Landscape has a soul and a presence… always wrapped in seamless prayer.” I began taking longer walks without my headphones, listening to the cadence of wind, bird, branch. In a world increasingly saturated with digital noise, this reorientation toward the natural as sacred felt like remembering something I’d long known but had forgotten how to name.
I would also be remiss not to mention his vision of aging as spiritual refinement: “As the body diminishes, the soul gets richer.” It is a balm for a culture obsessed with youth and permanence. His view of aging, memory, and even death is profoundly liberating—death not as erasure, but as homecoming; aging not as diminishment, but as deepening.
If you are considering whether this book is worth your time, I would offer the following: Walking in Wonder will not hand you answers. It will not flatter your intellect with clever arguments. It will, however, make you feel more alive. It will challenge you—gently but insistently—to listen for what is hidden, to speak what is true, and to dwell more fully in the mystery of being. For those weary of platitudes or formulaic spirituality, this book offers instead the soulful architecture of a real interior life.
For me, it has become something more than a book. It is a companion. A mirror. A quiet blessing.
Reading John O’Donohue feels less like encountering an author and more like being welcomed into the home of a spiritual elder—one who speaks with the cadence of poetry, the depth of philosophy, and the warmth of a lifelong friend. This collection of conversations between O’Donohue and Irish broadcaster John Quinn unfolds gently, meditatively, and at times with a quiet astonishment. Yet beneath its apparent ease is a penetrating wisdom that continues to reverberate in me long after closing the final page.
At its core, Walking in Wonder is a summons—to attend more fully to the mystery of our lives, to develop a more spacious inner world, and to inhabit the ordinary with reverence. O’Donohue writes, “So many people are frightened by the wonder of their own presence.” That line struck me with unusual force. It reminded me how often we shy away from the grandeur of simply being alive, of possessing the capacity to imagine, to love, to create, to endure.
What O’Donohue understands—and communicates with exquisite grace—is that wonder is not a luxury. It is not the domain of poets or mystics alone. Wonder is the animating spirit behind compassionate thinking, deep imagination, and soulful presence. “All thinking that is imbued with wonder,” he writes, “is graceful and gracious thinking.” This is no sentimental claim. It is an invitation to live differently: to think with depth, to speak with care, and to act with a reverence for the sacred in the everyday.
Throughout the book, O’Donohue reclaims language that our culture has allowed to grow thin: presence, absence, aging, landscape, soul. Each is re-examined with a Celtic lens that holds space for paradox and poetry. “The opposite of presence is not absence, but vacancy,” he writes. In this, I found profound comfort. Absence—particularly after the loss of my own father—was no longer a void, but a kind of quiet fullness. A threshold. A companion. A continuation.
Equally compelling is his reflection on the inner world: “Each one of us is the custodian of an inner world that we carry around with us.” O’Donohue gives permission to explore one’s interiority not as retreat, but as necessary engagement. Our inner life, he suggests, is not secondary to the ‘real world’—it is the ground from which all meaningful perception arises. I found myself reflecting on how little time I grant to solitude, how rarely I allow the silence to speak. This book gave me cause to return to those practices that deepen, rather than distract.
His reflections on nature and landscape were among the most affecting for me personally. O’Donohue views the land not as scenery, but as a living presence—an ancient memory that holds us. “Landscape has a soul and a presence… always wrapped in seamless prayer.” I began taking longer walks without my headphones, listening to the cadence of wind, bird, branch. In a world increasingly saturated with digital noise, this reorientation toward the natural as sacred felt like remembering something I’d long known but had forgotten how to name.
I would also be remiss not to mention his vision of aging as spiritual refinement: “As the body diminishes, the soul gets richer.” It is a balm for a culture obsessed with youth and permanence. His view of aging, memory, and even death is profoundly liberating—death not as erasure, but as homecoming; aging not as diminishment, but as deepening.
If you are considering whether this book is worth your time, I would offer the following: Walking in Wonder will not hand you answers. It will not flatter your intellect with clever arguments. It will, however, make you feel more alive. It will challenge you—gently but insistently—to listen for what is hidden, to speak what is true, and to dwell more fully in the mystery of being. For those weary of platitudes or formulaic spirituality, this book offers instead the soulful architecture of a real interior life.
For me, it has become something more than a book. It is a companion. A mirror. A quiet blessing.
June 11, 2023
The first truly spiritual/poetic book I've read in a long time. I really enjoyed it. It's a lot of musings and meditations on words and concepts and I eat that stuff up. I love me some etymology.
O'Donohue does an excellent job of writing intelligently but not pretentiously. A lot of his writing is almost humorous to read, or conversational, even as he quotes Heidegger and Plato and Hindu tales and Irish myths.
I love his thoughts on the transformative power of conversation (pg. 130). He speaks my language particularly when talking about the bounty of the world "Everywhere the human eye looks, everywhere the human mind turns, there is a huge panorama of diversity...the fact that no two stones, no two fields, no two faces or no two biographies are the same."... " The world of media and corporate marketing has actually homogenized things completely and wants to make everything the same...there is an incredible difficulty for individual places and individual experiences to assert their own uniqueness and individuality." (pg. 122)
Supply chain! The deeply literal sense of connection among the world yet also the differences we erase with mass any type of mass production. Each person, place, thing in this world has such individuality.
Landscape, imagination, memory, absence, presence, wildness, rhythm, balance
"There is in the Irish psyche, I think, a kind of flexibility and a grounding humor that actually levels things and balances things out... Often, Irish humor has this subtext of knowing the complete horror, but yet deciding not to bend to its ravages." pg. 133
Absence as the sister of presence, whereas vacancy as the opposite. Vacancy is a neutral emptiness, but "absence has real energy; it has vitality in it, and it is infused with longing." pg. 70
"One of our great duties as humans is to develop our own thoughts, thoughts that are adequate to us and worthy of the possibilities that sleep in our souls. One of the greatest tragedies of our times is that everyone is ripping off secondhand thinking from other people, thinking that is dead and does not fit them at all." pg. 38
"May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dream no longer,
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more" pg. 110 "A Morning Offering"
O'Donohue does an excellent job of writing intelligently but not pretentiously. A lot of his writing is almost humorous to read, or conversational, even as he quotes Heidegger and Plato and Hindu tales and Irish myths.
I love his thoughts on the transformative power of conversation (pg. 130). He speaks my language particularly when talking about the bounty of the world "Everywhere the human eye looks, everywhere the human mind turns, there is a huge panorama of diversity...the fact that no two stones, no two fields, no two faces or no two biographies are the same."... " The world of media and corporate marketing has actually homogenized things completely and wants to make everything the same...there is an incredible difficulty for individual places and individual experiences to assert their own uniqueness and individuality." (pg. 122)
Supply chain! The deeply literal sense of connection among the world yet also the differences we erase with mass any type of mass production. Each person, place, thing in this world has such individuality.
Landscape, imagination, memory, absence, presence, wildness, rhythm, balance
"There is in the Irish psyche, I think, a kind of flexibility and a grounding humor that actually levels things and balances things out... Often, Irish humor has this subtext of knowing the complete horror, but yet deciding not to bend to its ravages." pg. 133
Absence as the sister of presence, whereas vacancy as the opposite. Vacancy is a neutral emptiness, but "absence has real energy; it has vitality in it, and it is infused with longing." pg. 70
"One of our great duties as humans is to develop our own thoughts, thoughts that are adequate to us and worthy of the possibilities that sleep in our souls. One of the greatest tragedies of our times is that everyone is ripping off secondhand thinking from other people, thinking that is dead and does not fit them at all." pg. 38
"May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dream no longer,
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more" pg. 110 "A Morning Offering"
December 31, 2022
A friend introduced me to the writing of this wise and gentle Irish poet/author/priest/philosopher over 25 years ago. Since then I’ve read many of his books and always found something worth taking to heart because of his wholistic way of speaking about things of the spirit without letting religion get in the way. Born in the west of Ireland, he grew up surrounded by the wild and mystical beauty of Connemara and County Clare which explains why so much of his writing is rooted in Celtic spirituality.
This book is actually a collection of radio presentations done in association with his friend and former broadcaster John Quinn. Conversational in nature and filled with John Donohoe’s characteristic way of looking at the world through a mystic’s eyes, the chapters in this lovely little book cover a wide range of themes including wonder, balance, friendship, imagination, landscape, memory, and aging, along with several of John’s poems.
As is always the case whenever I read anything by John Donohoe, I end up with passages to copy into my commonplace book. This time, most of them had to do with aging. For example:
Contemporary society worships youth; it worships strength; it worships image. . .it has no refined sense of the subtlety of the soul, the secrecy of the heart. Especially, it has no sensitivity of these interior regions where the great gatherings happen in the heart.
Near the end of the book John shares his thoughts about death and dying, which proved to be a poignant foreshadowing of his own demise which occurred tragically and unexpectedly in 2008 when he was only 52 years old. But long before that happened he had this to say: Maybe at death, there is a very beautiful meeting between you and yourself, and then you go together into the invisible kingdom where there is no more darkness, suffering, separating or sadness, and where you are one with all those that you love in the seen world and in the unseen world. Death in that sense is a time of great homecoming and there is no need to be afraid.”
This book is actually a collection of radio presentations done in association with his friend and former broadcaster John Quinn. Conversational in nature and filled with John Donohoe’s characteristic way of looking at the world through a mystic’s eyes, the chapters in this lovely little book cover a wide range of themes including wonder, balance, friendship, imagination, landscape, memory, and aging, along with several of John’s poems.
As is always the case whenever I read anything by John Donohoe, I end up with passages to copy into my commonplace book. This time, most of them had to do with aging. For example:
Contemporary society worships youth; it worships strength; it worships image. . .it has no refined sense of the subtlety of the soul, the secrecy of the heart. Especially, it has no sensitivity of these interior regions where the great gatherings happen in the heart.
Near the end of the book John shares his thoughts about death and dying, which proved to be a poignant foreshadowing of his own demise which occurred tragically and unexpectedly in 2008 when he was only 52 years old. But long before that happened he had this to say: Maybe at death, there is a very beautiful meeting between you and yourself, and then you go together into the invisible kingdom where there is no more darkness, suffering, separating or sadness, and where you are one with all those that you love in the seen world and in the unseen world. Death in that sense is a time of great homecoming and there is no need to be afraid.”
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