When the Bell Tolls Again

Dear friends,

A couple of months before my sabbatical, my spiritual director gave me some sage advice. She said, “Put together a spiritual go-bag.” Not for the bright days, but for the days when the air feels heavy and your soul feels far away from its own body.
A go-bag, she said, for when you are exhausted and the days are dark.

I’ve thought often about that invitation these past few weeks, especially as I was re-reading this poem by Pádraig Ó Tuama from 2013 titled “The Lifeline.”

Here is what I know: when
that bell tolls again, I
need to go and make something,
anything: a poem, a pie, a terrible
scarf with my terrible knitting, I
need to write a letter, remind myself
of any little lifeline around me.

When death sounds, I forget most
of what I learnt before. I go below.
I compare my echoes with other people’s
happiness. I carve that hole in my own
chest again, pull out all my organs once
again, wonder if they’ll ever work again.

There’s such honesty in here. A recognition of how easily we forget what keeps us alive when sorrow comes knocking. We go below. We compare. We doubt the components of our own hearts. And yet Pádraig knows what to do when the tolling begins. Make something. Not something polished or perfect. Just something that pulls you toward life again.

That, I think, is the heart of the go-bag. It’s a collection of lifelines for when we forget that life is still holding us. A song you can hum when you don’t have words. A verse of Scripture that’s more like a heartbeat than an idea. A walk you take when your prayers have turned to ash. The number of a friend you trust to say nothing clever, only “I’m here.”

The go-bag isn’t about fixing the darkness. It’s about remembering that light exists, even when you can’t see it.

Maybe you already know what belongs in yours. Maybe it’s time to gather a few things before the next storm. A photo. A recipe. A psalm. A piece of art. A name. A promise. A breath prayer.

And maybe, when the bell tolls, you’ll reach for one small thing. Not to escape the ache, but to tether yourself again to the grace that is still at work in you.

Peace and all goodness to you,

Bliss +