Tag: awareness

Gratitude

Grateful eyes look at each thing as if they had never seen it before and caress it as if they would never see it again. ~ Br. David Steindl-Rast

I write on the day after the latest school shooting. You may find it odd to be writing today on “gratitude.” I find no joy in the meaningless deaths of children at the hands of other children via deadly weapons that should be used only in war or self defense. Yet such tragedy makes me even more grateful for this day of life and the awareness of it as precious gift.

This recent health challenge magnifies my awareness of this moment, this day. I had slipped back into taking for granted this day and this life and fell into imagining that I had at least a decade (probably more like 2 decades if I’m honest) to enjoy the pleasures of not having deadlines or work projects that required major effort. My initial response on receiving the challenging news was anger that it was likely that I had been given a new “assignment” that would take away from my newly discovered pleasures (reading fiction, learning quilting, enjoying walks, etc.) and replace them with unwelcome “deadlines” and scheduled “must appear” events.

I still can feel angry — at fate and I suppose at God — if I allow myself that wasted energy. But more often now I notice with gratitude the small things that I might have previously passed over without much of a thought. I’m still not great at recording my gratitudes — a spiritual practice that I want to become more regular in. But I often acknowledge what I notice to myself or aloud with a “thank you, God”, or even just see how many people I can offer a grateful smile and “hello” to as I go through the grocery store or on my walk.

I am awed today at the prayers and love that others have offered me in this time. It usually comes via text or email. Sometimes a gift of homemade soup and a book left on my porch or a card with a hand written message delivered by the mailperson. And with each message or gift I return a prayer for that person and feel a deep gratitude that I (who have been a person who often has felt her “otherness” and awkwardness) am loved and held in prayer. I don’t feel deserving of such gifts and prayers — but I am aware that it is not about deserving but about accepting what comes (with gratitude) and not keeping it to myself.

And not keeping it to myself is a fruit of gratitude, I find. Gratitude creates an abundance of feelings . . . of safety, love, joy, astonishment, wonder, connection. The abundance is not to be held close nor stored but to be shared. So I share, perhaps in overly simple ways, but offering gratitude in writing or via a phone call, in my own prayers for others, in offering a smile to each person I see, in writing cards of gratitude for persons who have touched my life.

And I have a long, long list of people that will keep my pen busy for as long as I can write . . . I keep a rainy day file of notes or letters that I have received over a lifetime from persons who have taken time to let me know something that has touched them. They inspire me to respond to others with a “rainy day” message to let them know how their lives have touched mine.

Gratitude . . . I am grateful today for the chill in the air that drives birds to our feeder where Mr B (my kitty) and I watch with wonder. And I am grateful for my body . . . its strength, its resilience, and the ability it gives me to move through the world. Thank you, God, for all your gifts.

Waiting . . .

What are you waiting for?

Waiting is a pause, a looking away from the now, an interval, a delay.

Waiting can be a movement away from mindfulness of the present moment as we wait for something to come that is missing from our life right now. Or it can be a momentary pause to breathe, settle, ground ourselves, and to be ready for what is coming.

I have often wasted time waiting for something to arrive that I thought would make my life better, and in doing so, I have missed seeing or experiencing whatever was happening in the present. I waited for difficult situations to pass, for an expected job offer to arrive, for a tough class to be finished, for the retreat I was preparing for to begin, for the root canal appointment (!) to be over and done with. And the time I spent waiting — at least the time I spent just wishing that whatever I was waiting for would arrive now — was lost time when I was not paying attention to anything but avoiding the present moment.

Waiting sometimes feels like punishment. It is actually avoidance, whether conscious or not. When I began to use spiritual practices like meditation and mindful walking, my awareness of the fullness of the present moment astonished me. What I suddenly heard, smelled, felt in my body, saw all around me was an abundance of life. Birds I hadn’t heard, dappled light changing patterns of color and light and shadow, the distant train whistle, the softness of grass in contrast to the roughness of dry ground, clouds that raced and others that moseyed. I was dazzled and delighted. With my normal future-oriented consciousness (or unconsciousness!) and goal directed pace, I missed so much. And Creation offered so much fullness that I hadn’t seen, touched, tasted, heard, felt.

So, am I now transformed and fully conscious every moment of every day? Far from it. I get distracted by worries and waiting. I settle into a funk now and then. I rush to an appointment without tasting the rain-misted taste of the air. I forget to listen for birdcall or look for what shade of blue or teal or grey the sky is today.

But I find myself waiting much less often for something to happen or arrive. I am better at remembering to pause and breathe and step outside more often to spend a mindful moment just being present. And it changes my day every time I do.