Remembering John O’Donohue
Churchyard in the West of Ireland Photo by Diane Covington-Carter
I had the privilege of meeting poet and philosopher John O’Donohue several times in the late 1990’s, when he came to our small town in Northern California. I noticed how he treated everyone with kindness and included everyone in the Catholic ritual of communion. I bought his book, Anam Cara, which became a guiding light in my life as I navigated the death of my beloved sister in 2003.
In the fall of 2004, I attended a retreat with John, along the wild coast of Oregon. We maintained silence till after breakfast, a time out from the normal inner and outer chatter of our minds. We walked the beach on breaks, then circled around a crackling fire for his lectures. Those days of quiet contemplation and of listening to his powerful and gentle words soothed my mind and spirit and helped me deal with the loss of my sister.
In the spring of 2006, I flew to Ireland to attend a ten-day retreat with John. We hiked hills and valleys, visited sacred wells and inched up to the edge of the cliffs of Moher on our bellies. On rainy days, we listened to John’s words and spent quiet time with ourselves.
John at the Cliffs of Moher Photo by Diane Covington-Carter
On both retreats, I interviewed John for what would become a story for the Sun magazine, April 2007. The interviews also became available from Sounds True catalog as a two-part package called, “Secret Landscapes of Nourishment.”
Creek in the Burren, West of Ireland Photo by Diane Covington-Carter
In 2007, John and I emailed back and forth and talked to get the wording polished enough for the Sun version. The Sounds True versions are his words with very little editing.
His fall, 2007 Oregon retreat would be his last. He died suddenly in January 2008.
February 2008, I was traveling in France doing various stories and realized I had a free window of a few days, so flew to Galway to attend John’s memorial service in the Galway cathedral. When I landed at the Galway airport, I realized that the only other time I’d visited Ireland was to be a part of John’s retreat, just two years earlier. Standing at the baggage claim turnstile, the voice of the man making announcements sounded like John. I wiped away tears as I waited for my suitcase, hoping no one noticed.
How can this be possible? How can he be gone?
But he was gone. Being there in Ireland brought the finality of that home to me. The next day, I walked to the cathedral to attend the memorial mass. In the packed cathedral, I found a seat near the front and settled in.
At the beginning of a Catholic mass, the priest walks out, genuflects, then turns to begin the mass. At John’s memorial service, priests filed out, two by two, genuflected, then moved to the side. On and on they came, ten pairs of priests, twenty in all. The last priest, the elder, walked out alone, looked out at those gathered to honor John, then stated simply, “John O’Donohue was a holy man.”
They all participated in the mass, with the elder priest presiding over the service. After the mass, I had the honor of joining John’s family at a hotel for tea, before I had to jump on a bus for Dublin to fly back to France and continue my travels.
My trip took on a different tone after being at the Galway cathedral with all the others who gathered to honor John.
Life is short. Don’t waste precious minutes, hours and days. Be grateful for every minute.
I am grateful that I had the honor of spending time with John O’Donohue before he left us and that his words, in the interviews, live on, his warm and alive voice reminding us to remember what is important in our lives.
At the first retreat in Oregon, John signed my worn and tattered copy of Anam Cara, “In love, light and tenderness, John O’Donohue.”
I will always remember his deep, graceful and generous spirit.
Flowers in the Burren, West of Ireland Photo by Diane Covington-Carter