I once heard that among its other well-documented benefits, gratitude can create a sense of safety when you feel afraid. In my experimentation so far, I’d say this checks out. For you, dear reader, I am so very grateful.
A Very Partial List
For all the miles I crawled before I took my first step, I give thanks. For all the books I’ve read that I can’t remember, I give thanks. For all the sunny winter days still left on my dance card, I give thanks.
For the grass that fed the sheep that were sheered for the merino wool spun and knit into the soft socks that now warm my feet, I am grateful. For the countless cups of coffee someone else brewed for me, for the someone else who delivers letters on my behalf, for each breath of the someone who put clean sheets on a bed in a hotel room where I once spent a restless, anxious night, I am grateful.
For the ample supply of public bathrooms, and the over-abundance of cords for charging electronic devices, and the fact that there are people who still buy books of poetry, I am grateful. For the deep breaths that kept coming while I slowly grieved those old losses: thank you. For the belly laughs that will buoy me until the next loss hits: thank you. For every perfectly ordinary day of which I have no memory: Thank you. For the alphabet, and light switches, and mason jars, candlesticks. For chokecherry blossoms and meadowlarks, woodsmoke and crayons: Thank you. For the way snow collects on pine boughs, and how those boughs bounce when it falls. For polished wood banisters and wild irises and skylights and warning labels. For foil wrapped chocolates and wagging dog tails and reading glasses at the ready and for all the ways our wrists can bend and hold: thank you. For sidewalk cracks, chipper nurses, crooked smiles, crooked paths, windmills, windbags, puddles, toggles, jam, salt. For all of these! But even more — for all the things I keep failing to notice, the people and the objects, the givens, that go on giving themselves away, anyway, everyday. Thank you. Thank you. I am so grateful. So very. So grateful that there is so much that I have no way to know and name and give thanks for it all.
For the first time in my decade long fluctuating practice of gratitude, I discovered in your opening phrases gratitude for the person behind the acts that bring the gifts of gratitude. How have I missed this? I’m genuine with my gratitude of clean sheets, coffee, and warm socks…but does my mind recognize the person who did the washing, bending and tucking to make that bed. Or the farmer who tended the sheep for my socks? I often express my gratitude to them but I have missed holding gratitude for them. Your words are a gentle correction. Your words convey many expressions of beauty and I am grateful for you.
Grateful for the absolute knock your (merino wool) socks off gift of language, offered fromin the “pen” and heart of a friend, and for friends who open our eyes … beyond grumbling and grousing… to the gift nature of our lives.