Her work has been described as “breathtaking” by the Chicago Tribune. Now Jan Richardson returns with a new collection of blessings that go deeper still into what she has become known blessings that do not shy away from our human experience but enter into the full range of it.
With poetic honesty, How the Stars Get in Your Bones turns toward the hard things that each of us the grief, loss, fear, and weariness that we live with. In her distinctive style, Richardson invites us to perceive what makes its home here, the joy, solace, grace, and, most of all, the love that moves through it all, illuminating and transforming what seems most hidden or hopeless.
“A blessing has the ability to enter into our pain,” Richardson writes in the opening pages, “not to dismiss or gloss over it but to name it, and to name also the love that connects us and holds the love that is continually working for our wholeheartedness.”
These blessings welcome us wherever we are, offer us a space of healing for as long as we need, and call forth our courage, that our broken heart might become a path back into the world.
To keep turning your heart toward this unendurable earth, knowing your heart will break but turning it still.
I tell you, this is how the stars get in your bones.
—From the blessing “How the Stars Get in Your Bones”
Born of Richardson’s deep knowing of grief and love, these blessings are a luminous gift to savor and to share.
Sapphire, diamond, emerald, quartz: think of every hard thing that carries its own brilliance, shining with the luster that comes only from uncountable ages in the earth, in the dark, buried beneath unimaginable weight, bearing what seemed impossible, bearing it still.
And you, shouldering the grief you had thought so solid, so impermeable, the terrible anguish you carried as a burden now become— who can say what day it happened?— a beginning.
See how the sorrow in you slowly makes its own light, how it conjures its own fire.
See how radiant even your despair has become in the grace of that sun.
Did you think this would happen by holding the weight of the world, by giving in to the press of sadness and time?
I tell you, this blazing in you— it does not come by choosing the most difficult way, the most daunting; it does not come by the sheer force of your will. It comes from the helpless place in you that, despite all, cannot help but hope, the part of you that does not know how not to keep turning toward this world, to keep turning your face toward this sky, to keep turning your heart toward this unendurable earth, knowing your heart will break but turning it still.
I tell you, this is how the stars get in your bones.
This is how the brightness makes a home in you, as you open to the hope that burnishes every fractured thing it finds and sets it shimmering, a generous light that will not cease, no matter how deep the darkness grows, no matter how long the night becomes.
Still, still, still the secret of secrets keeps turning in you, becoming beautiful, becoming blessed, kindling the luminous way by which you will emerge, carrying your shattered heart like a constellation within you, singing to the day that will not fail to come.
...comes from the helpless place in you that, despite all, cannot help but hope, the part of you that does not know how not to keep turning toward this world...
I tell you, this is how the stars get in your bones.
This new book of blessings from Jan Richardson is a balm, both in the darkness and the light, both personal and universal, intimate and expansive. A book for times of despair and of hope. I know that I will return to it often.
Sister Lucy was reading this at the priory so I bought myself a copy. Thought I would read it over lent but I couldn’t put it down. It’s a beautiful blessing in itself full of hope and wisdom. What a gift to have blessings to bestow on those in need. I love the stars and find my time under the stars on the mountain in reflection to be the most sacred of spaces, so I love the title. God is in the stars and in each blessing freely given.
Jan Richardson’s artful words and images are deeply resonant with my own life, at times, showing me parts of myself that I had not yet met, and doing so with wisdom, gentleness, and compassion. I am always grateful to be able to sit at home with her art and deeply ponder.