A friend lent this book to me. Like a lazy walk along a beach, I enjoyed making my way through the sweet observations of John O’Donohue. The ending was especially symbolic, since I read the chapters on old age and death while travelling back to Ireland for my dear Granny’s funeral. My sadness was transformed in reading about fear of death and I was able to realise how my pain came from loss. My healing emanates from knowing that I have memory. Losing someone is never easy, but reading these pages made it easier. I was travelling alone for 10 hours, afraid of being left with my own misery and sadness. Yet, with the books company I felt something grow in me. An acceptance of the difficult, a change in how I relate to death and dying.

Something that annoyed me about this book was the unlimited reference to male voices. John O’Donohue celebrates male voices throughout this book and comedy arose with the extent of his unconscious bias. There was one reference to Edith Piaf at the end, however, it took over 230 pages to suggest wisdom might be an ungendered thing.

Despite this, it’s a beautiful text. With excellent wisdom from the Celtic World.