Monday, March 19, 2018

Peach Chakra

At the Market by Louise Moillon (1610-1696) Painting is a private collection

“Believe something and the Universe is on its way to being changed. Because you've changed, by believing. Once you've changed, other things start to follow. Isn't that the way it works?”  Diane Duane, So You Want to Be a Wizard

"When you reach for the stars, you are reaching for the farthest thing out there. When you reach deep into yourself, it is the same thing, but in the opposite direction. If you reach in both directions, you will have spanned the universe.” ― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

“Through the practice of meditation, when the mind is quieted and the emotions are calmed, the Soul shines forth in all of its glory.” ― Genevieve Gerard


Last week I took a break, but I still thought of peaches.  In my quest for mixing the perfect peach color with paint, I found that there are many shades of peach: red-orange color.  You must be knowledgeable of each color's undertones.  Meaning, is the red made up of red tones or violet tones?  Your choice of yellow depends on the tones: Like goes with Like.  

In my google search for mixing colors, the peach chakra appeared.  (Chakras and mixing paint colors? I'm trying to figure out the connection.)

As you are aware, there are many chakras in the human body.  Most people are familiar with the seven.  The peach chakra is located within the heart chakra.  You have to pull away the green and you will find it in the center.  This chakra is associated with your soul.  It is your connection with the divine source and the universe.   It is a place of love and joy mixed together into a peaceful bliss

The peach chakra reminds me of the story of Xi Wangmu's peach orchard.  Her peaches took 3000 years to ripen.  Eaten they gave one immortality and access to the divine.  But, what if you didn't have to wait 3000 years.  What if you had access to bliss by meditating through your peach chakra?   


Wild nights - Wild nights! (269)
by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)

Peach watercolor by Sharon Foster.  
Wild nights - Wild nights!

Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile - the winds -
To a Heart in port -
Done with the

Compass -
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden -
Ah - the Sea!

Might I but moor - tonight -
In thee


Artural: Art + Ritual

Auntie Grace's Peach Cobbler is bliss especially warm and with ice cream:

1/2 cup butter
1 cup of flour
1 cup of sugar
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1 cup of milk
2 cups of cut up peaches without skins

Preheat oven 275 F

1.  Melt butter in a baking pan on the stove (9 inches by 13 inches dish)
2.  Mix flour, sugar and baking powder together in a separate bowl.  Stir in milk until there     aren't any lumps.
3.  Dump this into the melted butter pan.  DO NOT STIR.  
4.  Sprinkle fruit on top.  DO NOT STIR THEM INTO THE MIXTURE.
5.  Raise temperature of the oven up to 350F
6.  Bake 50-60 minutes or until the cake is lightly brown on top.

Sunday, March 4, 2018

Longing for Peaches

Florence Dunbar Tending the Garden by
“The flavor the came to me was a luscious Sincerest peach that I once had in California. This heirloom variety needed time to ripen on the tree to achieve its peak flavor. Unlike other peaches that were picked unripe so they would ship more easily, Sincerest peaches had to be eaten right away. But they were worth it- fragrant, luscious, juice-dripping-down-your-chin perfection.” ~~ Judith M. Fertig, The Memory of Lemon

“Life is better than death, I believe, if only because it is less boring, and because it has fresh peaches in it.” ~~ Alice Walker, Home Girls: A Black Feminist Anthology

"The peach-bud glows, the wild bee hums, the wind-flower wave in gladness." ~~Lucy Larcom

Its a blue sky sunny day in March, but don't let that fool you into wearing a sweater and shorts.  It is in the high 30s.  By the time March rolls around in Ohio, I long for spring and the fruit of summer.  I was walking home from work this past week, and I noticed that the crocuses and daffodils leaves are pushing up out of the ground.   The effect inspired me to purchased tomato and pepper seeds to start in the house. Spring is coming.

A characteristic I share with Xi Wangmmu, we are gardeners.  Her garden is filled with peach trees; mine vegetables and raspberries.  Those who are gardeners carry similar characteristics.  We have patience to let a fruit ripen in the sun; can see patterns in the weather and try to understand what our plants may need to grow; and have a vision of what to outcome will be like--tasting a sun ripened tomato basil salad with mozzarella cheese, balsamic vinegar and olive oil.  


The peach tree on the southern wall 
by Christina Rosetti (1830-1894)

The peach tree on the southern wall 
Has basked so long beneath the sun, 
Her score of peaches great and small 
Bloom rosy, every one. 
A peach for brothers, one for each, 
A peach for you and a peach for me; 
But the biggest, rosiest, downiest peach 
For Grandmamma with her tea


Chinese painting: peach blossoms
Artual (ART + Ritual)

Peach Blossom Song (Chinese Folk Song)
Arranged by Yoshiharu Morokuma

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Being a Light for Someone

Big Dipper by Barbara Blasius McHugh (2015)
Polaris Statistics
Also Known As: Polaris A, Alpha Ursae Minoris, Pole Star, North Star
Distance From Earth: 430 light years
Constellation: Ursa Minor
Star Type: F Class Supergiant
Mass: 4.5 x Sun
Luminosity: 2,500 x Sun
Diameter: 44 million miles (70 million km) - 50 x Sun
Temperature: 5,700C (10,300F)
Age: Unknown
Rotation Period: 119 days


This past week we finally had an evening to see the stars.  It has been raining a lot, enough to bring the Ohio River to flood stages--the highest in 25 years--(my basement now has a small puddle in the center).  That night, I quickly survey the northern sky, and there it was the strongest point of light, the North Star.  Okay not the strongest, researchers rank it as fifty.  (How to find the North Star

Harriet Tubman, photograph by 
Horatio Seymour Squyer,
1848 - 18 Dec 1905 -
When I think about the North Star, I always associate it to Harriet Tubman.  She used the North Star to guide herself to freedom.  Once freed from slavery, she returned thirteen times to the south and rescued other enslaved people.  Each time, Tubman risked her life and freedom, and she continued using the bright North Star as her compass.  I want to believe she used this same North Star spirit to be the first woman to lead an armed assault during the Civil War.  The same bright spirit in the suffrage movement. 

Harriet Tubman was a woman who made a difference in people's lives then and now. 

Sarah Brown (1846 - 1916)

In her novel Mapmaker's Children, Sarah McCoy links the past and present together by paralleling two women's stories around a doll’s head. The reader learns of the characters (Eden and Sarah) struggles around infertility and how they become a beacon for other people in their lives.

The past narrator is Sarah Brown, daughter of abolitionist John Brown. McCoy uses Brown's personal letters and historical documents to support Sarah story. Sarah, we learn is also an abolitionist and an artist. She used her art to create cryptic picturegrams (maps) to help enslaved people find their way north to freedom. Historical evidence shows that some of her maps were hidden within dolls. McCoy uses the doll as a device to link her two character.

Eden Anderson, is the present-day character. She and her husband have moved into an old house in West Virginia in hopes to save their marriage. Eden is grieving over another miscarriage. The reader learns that this has become a cyclical: hormone injections, invitro-fertilization and miscarriage. She is the one who finds the doll’s head in the root cellar.

McCoy quickly shows us that Sarah also struggles from infertility due to an illness. As a result, Sarah chooses to never marry and devotes her life helping others. Thus, becoming a gifted mapmakers for the Underground Railroad.

Eden’s path to be a light for another isn’t clear cut as Sarah’s. For Eden, the pattern must be modeled by others.  In turn Eden's acts aren't great as Sarah's, but they do make a difference in the lives she touches.  

by Jessie Redmon Fauset

“I can remember when I was a little, young girl, how my old 

              mammy would sit out of doors in the evenings and look up at 
              the stars and groan, and I would say, ‘Mammy, what makes
              you groan so?’ And she would say, ‘I am groaning to think of
              my poor children; they do not know where I be and I don’t
              know where they be. I look up at the stars and they look up at
              the stars!’”
—Sojourner Truth

I think I see her sitting bowed and black,
Stricken and seared with slavery’s mortal scars,
Reft of her children, lonely, anguished, yet
Still looking at the stars.

Symbolic mother, we thy myriad sons,
Pounding our stubborn hearts on Freedom’s bars,
Clutching our birthright, fight with faces set,
Still visioning the stars!


I have always been taught that one of my roles on this earthly plane was to serve.  I don't envision that my work will be as dynamic as Sojourner Truth, Harriett Tubman, or Sarah Brown.  But, I can do small things.

This past week I was called up by a friend.  Her niece had suffered yet another miscarriage.  My friend was looking for resources.  See, I too had experienced several miscarriages and an ectopic pregnancy.  My friend was concerned, because the doctors had not offered any mental health care.  I was able to provide several support groups and a Japanese (Buddhist) ritual that helped my spirit.  I believe that day I was a shining star for my friend.

Artual:  (ART + Ritual)

Recipe for Stjerneskud: Danish Shooting Star open sandwich

1. Sliced, toasted and mayonnaise smear rye bread

2. one leaf of lettuce

3. fried fish fillet (your choice)

4. pile of shrimp

5. pile of steamed asparagus

6. wedge of tomato

7. garnish with lemon and dill pickle twist.

Mary Chaplin Carpenter: Between Here and Gone

Mary Chaplin Carpenter: We're all Right

Monday, February 19, 2018

Big Dipper: a vessel needing filled up

Little Dipper by Mira Scott, buy see her paintings
“Our body is a sacred temple/A place to connect with people./As we aren't staying any younger/ We might as well keep it stronger.” ― Ana Claudia AntunesThe Tao of Physical and Spiritual

“Your body is home for your breath, your mind, your soul—how can you treat it like the sacred container that it is.”— Kristin Diversi

“This is the time of the great weaving of women…To get her deepest truths, a woman doesn’t ascend but rather descends.  This is why she has feared herself where both her yes and her no, her strength and vulnerability create conditions for her whole self to be both leveled and raised up simultaneously as a vessel of the fiercest feminine power imagined. – Alisa Starkweather


In Max Dushu’s article about Xi Wangmu, she describes how the goddess gains her power from the dipper stars.   I’ve been contemplating this idea this week; what if this is a metaphor?  

A dipper is a ladle or a scoop by definition.  It could also be define as a vessel or container to carry a solid or liquid.  In this discussion, I'm talking about Xi Wangmu’s power.  And, what if the dipper was within Xi Wangmu?  Thus the dipper stars are there to remind us where she gets her power: within.  Maybe the dipper stars remind her to take time and refuel this power?  

My body is considered a sacred vessel and it too holds my power.  But, unlike Xi Wangmu, I don’t take enough time to refuel.  I give and give—depleting my energy.   And, if I do refuel it -- most often it is with junk.  Junk being: candy, reading a no think novel, or binge watching tv.   


blessing the boats
By Lucille Clifton (1936-2010)
(at St. Mary’s)

my the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back     may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that


Girl at Duck Pond, Paula Modersohn-Becker
See it at Museaum Belvedere
As you know, it’s that time of year again.  LENT.  LENT: 40 days of being solemn and reflecting and giving up to make space for the divine moments.    The word originates from Anglo-Saxon Lenten, meaning “spring.” or getting ready for spring.  This year, as in the past I will not be giving up, but bringing in.  I will be continuing a Lenten Season based on Candice Benbow’s article of how women already give-up.  

This past year, my sacred vessel doesn’t need to be emptied any more.  Turning it up-side-down, there isn’t much left.  I’ve worried about my son’s health issues, coped with my own health issues that haven’t gone away, worried about my dad’s health, worried about my friend who is homeless, worried about finances with a child in college, worried about yet another job responsibility added to my overflowing plate, worried about the working conditions of my job…worried about…  Then there are the worries from outside my home and are from my community and my country.  Each worry has taken a drink from my sacred vessel.  The D*** news gets worse each day. On the day of love (Valentine's Day), marked with tragedy. 

Friday, I cried at the computer.  My origami stars next to my desk reminded of my words I wrote on them.  Strong words.  Inspired, I choose one word to fill-up my vessel during Lent.  Spontaneous laughter.   

I promised to laugh – belly laugh—the kind that causes tears to run down my cheek and leg. 

ARTUAL (Art + Ritual)

This week I am working on those projects that have a little bit to go.  One is a tie quilt that needs its binding sewn and the other a pullover sweater that I knitted (I’m changing it into a cardigan).  Both have been drinking from the vessel by not being completed. 

Now is the time. 

Your quest – find those creative projects that you haven’t completed.  Do it now.  

Update: 2/19/2018:  Finished up a tie quilt by asking C over for an afternoon craft day.  Then watched a funny movie on Hulu.

Update: 2/21/2018:  I laughed at the Black Panther.  It was because of my age and the jokes were related to my experiences as an older woman.  Most of the audience didn't know Grace Jones.  (Link to her singing Slave to the Rhythm)

Monday, February 12, 2018

Losing Course

Big Dipper Pole Star / Ursa Major by Kasia
See and buy her artwork
“The great safeguard of society and of domestic life was, that opinions were not acted on. Sane people did what their neighbors did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them.” ― George Eliot, Middlemarch

“Don't stay in the harbour and miss the greatness of the sea. Just because everyone else is anchored, doesn't mean you have to be.” ― Joyce Rachelle

“Once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and a lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul. She becomes all outer show and inward emptiness; dull, callous, and indifferent.” ― Virginia Woolf

My mom gave me her eye look.  It was a sly sideways glance as she unloaded the grocery items onto the conveyor belt.  Her eyes were slit and her lips: an unmovable red line. 
I put the paper back into its metal slot next to the candy and gum.  The tabloid showed a space alien with large enticing eyes.  I was compelled to buy it.  The alien stood shaking hands with President Jimmy Carter in the Oval Office, both had a friendly smiling and looked directly at the photographer.  There was another photo showed a space disk flying away in the evening sky with the Washington Monument in the background.  The paper was like the previous weeks warning:  space beings were meeting with federal officials and the public was being denied access to these talks.         
“They steal your money with that trash.”
I tried to explain how my classmates were talking about the aliens and I wanted to read the article like they did.  I didn’t want to be weird and not know. 
“Pure rubbish.”  Mom said in a harsh whisper that only I could hear.  
Mom was a nurse who worshiped the scientific method and grew up during the duck and cover Cold War/McCarthy era.  “Question everything before believing,” was one of her ideology.  She stated that this newspaper offered no proof that there were aliens.  The photos?  Mom pointed to the handshake.  Jimmy Carter’s hand didn’t match up right and the picture looked vaguely familiar to her—most likely stolen from the Associated Press.  “Tell your friends they need to use their minds and not be sucked in to believing.”  She probably ended this conversation with her usual “if your friends jumped off the bridge would you…” statement.
This week I was reminded this grocery store interaction.  What is truth and what could derail me from my North Star Intentions I hold for the year.

A friend sent me two Ted Talks: 1) Gary Kovacs talk about behavior tracking.  2) Eli Pariser talk about algorithms that explains how my conservative family members have been eliminated from my Facebook feed.  
My friend’s message continued discussing their alarm at how the internet is creating a personalized bubble for me.   It – the internet or those who make big bucks off this type of spying  – has been filtering what it thinks I/we need to see like craft coupons from Michaels or spiritual retreats with white only sisters or cheap hockey tickets.   She wanted to know if I was concerned. 
Yes, it made me upset to learn that this algorithm function was eliminating what other interests I have (spiritual retreats with sisters who are from all traditions and races or cheap baseball tickets or new running shoe coupons) or what I may find uncomfortable (how to talk about racism with a covert racist). 
My friend followed with the National Public Radio’s article on Russians were infiltrating into normal everyday types of conversations.  She proposed: could they (an unnamed source) create chaos by infiltrating the issues she felt dear too (i.e., environmental, women’s rights, child abuse, sexual assault). 
I assured her that we could see through it; we were smart with graduate degrees.  However, it did cause me to wonder about how the internet was filtering my view of topics?   Or, influencing my ideas or tailoring a small circle of friends who agree on everything.  Or, how the internet algorithms and bots taken me off course?  Meaning fogging my sight of my North Star?  I wonder how I could stay vigilant. 

Yesterday, I was looking at my feed on Facebook and up popped a headline “Look who voted no on the Violence Against Women’s Act Tuesday.”  My first gut reaction was anger, next more anger because I hadn’t been notified that this vote was happening.  After all this emotion, I realized that some of the faces were no longer in the senate.  I almost was pulled onto a bandwagon from these outside influencers.   Derailed from my North Star place.


The Stars Align by Sherry Harridence, Acrylic. 
See and buy her paintings 
Under on Small Star
By Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012)

My apologies to chance for calling it necessity.
My apologies to necessity if I'm mistaken, after all.
Please, don't be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due.
May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade.
My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.
My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first.
Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.
Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger.
I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths.
I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five a.m.
Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time.
Pardon me, deserts, that I don't rush to you bearing a spoonful of water.
And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage,
your gaze always fixed on the same point in space,
forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed.
My apologies to the felled tree for the table's four legs.
My apologies to great questions for small answers.
Truth, please don't pay me much attention.
Dignity, please be magnanimous.
Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.
Soul, don't take offense that I've only got you now and then.
My apologies to everything that I can't be everywhere at once.
My apologies to everyone that I can't be each woman and each man.
I know I won't be justified as long as I live,
since I myself stand in my own way.
Don't bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words,
then labor heavily so that they may seem light.


Artual (Art + Ritual) 

Last week, I talked about my new year's focus: that which makes me feel alive and nurtures my heart.  I wrote affirmations around the following phrases:

I am
I create
I allow
I see
I cultivate
I manifest
I believe in the possibility that

What I noticed about my affirmations were key words that really struck home.  Such as magical moment, laughter, joy, higher view, love, connection, divine presence…  these words struck directly to my Polaris Star -  the point within my heart.  That place where my true self lives; a place that isn’t influenced by the dipper stars scooping and pouring through the seasons.  That place that doesn’t have a care about Facebook feeds or space aliens.  I quickly decided that the words had more power than the affirmations.  

I decided to create something to remind me of this heart place when I am at my desk.  What I came up with was a jar filled with origami stars.  Within each star is written key word or phrases.  I am hoping that this will remind me to not be swayed.  I've included a how to picture for making the stars.  

Monday, February 5, 2018

Wishing on a star

Big Dipper, Karen Elzinga, see and purchase her art
“Life is a dream, what you make of it is reality.” S.T. Holmes

“There's no point having wishes if you don't at least try to do them” - Sally Nicholls, Ways to Live Forever

“I've wished for things and never really had the chance...It's time to stop dreaming and do something about it. You've got to know what you want, then...go.” - Deb Caletti, The Six Rules of Maybe

It is unusual that I get to see anything "cool" during Ohio winters.  Last Wednesday morning's lunar eclipse was no exception.  I got up early hoping to see the full moon turn red as lipstick, but the skies were clouded over and the weather station predicted snow.  The moon didn't appear nor did the stars.  I was relegated to watch the eclipse via NASA internet streaming.     

This month I'm switching to another aspect of Xi Wangmu: the Big Dipper.  I learned to identify this star pattern in Girl Scouts (NOTE: a pattern not a constellation, but part of one).  It was probably a requirement for a badge and I was into acquiring badges.  What fascinated me, and still does, is how the seven stars move around the fix point, the North Star (Polaris).  Each season being in a different position of scooping and pouring out.       

It was the Phoenicians who showed Greek astronomer Thales, (600 BC) how they used the the Little Dipper to navigate the sea.  Thales in turn showed the Greek sailors a new way to steer by the stars.  When I look up at the Dippers on the occasional clear winter night, I wish my life could be as easy as following the Polaris star.  

The Falling Star
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

“I saw a star slide down the sky,
Blinding the north as it went by,
Too burning and too quick to hold,
Too lovely to be bought or sold,
Good only to make wishes on
And then forever to be gone.”


I have been re-thinking, what do I need in my life to make me happy? Yes a yellow mustang convertible would be fun, but would I be happy. Similarly, It would be nice to have a mansion in the woods, but would I be happy? My annual intention setting is different this year. I have scaled it back to: what do I need to be happy. With this in mind, I answered the following affirmation statements.

I am
I create
I allow
I see
I cultivate
I manifest
I believe in the possibility that

What I realized from this exercise, I needed to move, dance, twirl; and I needed to express more joy and love.  The mansion didn't appear.  Instead, I need to manifest spontaneous laughter.     

These are what I am wishing for this year.  These are my intentions.  

Monday, January 29, 2018

Reviving the Tiger Ritual

Katsushika Hokusai, Woodblock print, 1849
“Each of us must confront our own fears, must come face to face with them. How we handle our fears will determine where we go with the rest of our lives. To experience adventure or to be limited by the fear of it.”  - Judy Blume, Tiger Eyes 

"So this is what I will do. I will gather together my past and look. I will see a thing that has already happened. the pain that cut my spirit loose. I will hold that pain in my hand until it becomes hard and shiny, more clear. And then my fierceness can come back, my golden side, my black side. I will use this sharp pain to penetrate my daughter's tough skin and cut her tiger spirit loose. She will fight me, because this is the nature of two tigers. But I will win and giver her my spirit, because this is the way a mother loves her daughter." - Amy Tan, Joy Luck Club

"But the tigers come at night/ With their voices soft as thunder/ As they tear your hope apart/ As they turn your dream to shame"  Susan Boyle singing Britain's Got Talent  "I dreamed a dreamed."


As you have been reading, I devoted these past four weeks studying aspects of the tiger power.  Motherfather Spirit kept presenting me with one thing that zaps my tiger power: my inner critic.  I declare myself a strong woman, but I too, have an inner critic that gives me comments about my unworthiness and not-enoughness and my imperfections.  I've been on several "list serves"  and I realized I'm not alone.  Others have their own inner critic and it functions in the same way: zapping our tiger power. 

In her book, Tiger's Wife, Tea Obreht describes the tigers in the zoo.  Bombs are exploding in an unnamed Balkan city, noise and the underlying fear causes stress to animals.  The caged tigers begin eating their young and one gnaws away at his leg until it is becomes gangrene.  There have been points in my life that I have allowed my inner critic to consume my tiger power.  My inner critic knows my weak points: not a good mother; a mother should be at home; only being able to have one child; art work that is rejected, my career is in a public health issue that will never stop (violence prevention).  And then there is society and the media that echo my critic...  During these times, I've walked into my work cubicle to hide or have sat in front of the television--staring unable to work, to create, to make.  I become like Obreht's tiger eating my creations before they can grow up. 

Intellectually, I know that this voice isn't truthful and works out of fear or wanting to keep me safe. 

Susan Boyle
This tiger study has also allowed me to recognize that I must have a bag of magic tricks to stop the inner critic.  Mine includes poems, songs, inspiration youtube videos that tell the critic "haa haa. take that."  One of my favorites is watching Susan Boyle's Britian's Got Talent audition.  She boldly walks onto the stage facing an audience that is under the "Mirror Mirror on the Wall Spell."  Susan is a middle aged woman with streaks of gray hair; who by the way she talks and appears looks like she didn't have any talent.  The (spell bound) cynical audience laughed at her comments.  But, when she opened her mouth to sing; there was a dramatic change.  "I know what they were thinking, but why should it matter as long as I can sing? It's not a beauty contest."  Susan Boyle told The Sunday Times.  She had her tiger spirit on that day.  It inspires mine.  

Music has always shook up my inner critic.  Singing songs while twirling, dancing, and acting out the lyrics... the voice gets drowned out.  

Create your own magic bag to build up your tiger spirit.  The following are on my play list.

Ode to Joy - Flash mob 

Talkin' bout a Revolution
Tracy Chapman

MOANA song "I Am Moana" (Song of the Ancestors)
Auli'i Cravalho

Rise Up
Andra Day

Girl On Fire
Alicia Keys

Sunny Side of Street
Billy Holliday “Lady Day”

One Love 
Bob Marley

Defying Gravity - Wicked
Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth

Taming the Tiger
Joni Mitchel


A Gaelic Blessing 
John Rutter

All Things Bright and Beautiful (Makes me think of my Grandmother) John Rutter