Mindful Monday: May You Be Blessed
Recently, I was inspired to try a very simple daily practice — and I am surprised by how deeply it touched my heart.
December can carry a fuller, sometimes more intense energy. Whether we celebrate Christmas or not, there’s often a sense of busyness in the air. In the midst of that swirl, something different arose for me.
I felt inspired to offer blessings.
Nothing formal.
Just a quiet, heartfelt offering.
And it began with myself.
After my morning meditation, I would softly say something like:
“May my day flow with ease, grace, and joy.”
“May I live today with presence.”
“May my presence be a blessing.”
Whatever words came.
When I said these blessings with presence, I often felt something shift inside — a softening, a spaciousness, a more profound sense of being here.
As I moved through my day, I began offering silent blessings to others:
May you be blessed.
May you have peace.
May you feel joy.
May you feel loved.
May you be healthy.
It was spontaneous.
I offered them while driving, in the grocery store, at the gym, with friends and family, to strangers I would never meet again, or to people who popped into my mind. And to the world.
The more I did this, the more something beautiful happened.
My heart opened.
I felt compassion in my heart.
The sense of separation softened.
I felt the quiet truth of our shared humanness — that we are all navigating something, all doing our best, all longing to feel safe, seen, and loved.
One interaction touched me deeply last Friday, and I'd love to share it with you.
I was on the phone with a customer service representative who casually mentioned it was his birthday. I wished him a Happy Birthday, and when I asked if he was celebrating, he shared that his grandmother had died on his birthday ten years ago, and he had never celebrated since. I felt a tenderness in my heart and said how sorry I was, acknowledging how hard that must be. He shared that it was a difficult day for him.
He then asked if I thought it was wrong not to celebrate his birthday. I told him I didn’t think it was wrong at all — what mattered most was how he felt about it.
There was a moment of quiet.
I then asked if I could offer him a blessing and a prayer. He said yes. I don’t remember all the words that came — only that they came from love. He thanked me, and when we said goodbye, his voice sounded a bit emotional, and there was a sweetness in the air.
When I hung up, I felt a soft aliveness in my heart.
I remember thinking, What just happened here? A simple call to a company to fix my account — and yet, this tender, unexpected encounter unfolded.
I don't know his name, we will probably never speak again, and still, something meaningful was shared.
This practice wasn’t planned or structured — it simply arose.
And I want to continue, because these small, invisible acts of kindness have felt really good.
Imagine if, collectively, we walked through the world offering quiet blessings. Just something simple, from the heart, whenever we felt inspired.
Imagine the softness.
The healing.
The ripple.
As Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us...
“When you touch one thing with deep awareness, you touch everything.”
Something to reflect on:
What blessing might you offer yourself today?
Who could use a quiet blessing right now?
How might your day shift if you moved with silent kindness?
With love,
Diane