Giving Thanks

Even as we acknowledge and understand the unholy beginnings of Thanksgiving, it’s a holiday and a spirit that can be re-created for our times, infused with new meanings that contain the regrets and the tragedies of the old, layered over with the hope of a more compassionate, more sustainable world, one in which an ever-broadening inclusion of Life on our planet could mean, not only Homo sapiens but all the beings and objects that make this world.

And yes, even as we know (or hammered into awareness by mass media and American popular culture) that this is an American Holiday, it offers an opportunity for all of us—particularly those who have the privilege of home, hearth, family and food--to pause and think about the many things that make our lives not only possible but pleasurable.

 

Before I begin to sound a bit like Pastor Paul in a South Georgia church, let me say that this is not meant to be a sermon but a preface for my own vote of thanks. Like anyone else, I love to complain; I love to feel sorry for myself; I love the feeling of indulging my fears and disappointments and frustrations in the comfort of a thick blanket and hot chocolate. I do from time to time sink into the sense of being wronged by the world and everyone who is supposed to love me. Like anyone else, I enjoy a good rant.

 

But lately, as the years accumulate and so do the memories of the names and places and experiences that have populated them, I find more reasons to smile in gratitude than slump with disappointment.

 

I am grateful

For a family that cares enough to let me be

For friends who laugh, cry and think with me

For colleagues who make work a pleasure

For the mango tree outside my kitchen window that flowers every other year

For the Desert Rose that is shyly showing its first blooms

For the books that are shared, the books that are written, the books that we talk about

For the taste of cheese and chocolate and aloo toast

For yoga classes that stretch my limbs and calm my mind

For the young people in my life who make the screen time worthwhile

For photographs that tell me that travel was possible and might still be

For those who remove drudgery and dust from my days

For the street dogs that remind me that there are other lives, other battles

For the New York Times crossword and the New Yorker writing

(and my ability to access them)

For words 

For images

For music

For scents

And the senses that can still give pleasure.

For the night and the sleep that comes

For the morning and the comfort of routine.