Thankfulness

About six years ago now, I had an annus horriblus; two friends died of cancer, my nephew took his own life, my mentor died suddenly of a burst aneurysm, my grandmother died - and oh yeah, my cat of 21 years also passed away. A terrible year indeed. There were days I was afraid to answer the phone, days I was afraid to go outside, days I was afraid I would never be anything other than heartbroken and sad ever again. If the Universe was trying to teach me something, it had my attention.

I recall one day when I made what I thought was a humble request. I was standing at the beach at Torrey Pines, a lovely place between La Jolla and Del Mar - a wild and beautiful little stretch of beach where I often went to think. A storm had hammered the area most of the night before; the sky was a steely gray, as was the ocean; and the waves came in feral, foam tipped waves that perfectly matched the way I was feeling - tumultuous and angry. Standing there on the sand, chilled from the wind, feeling the spray of the water as it slapped onto the beach, I looked out at the water and asked for just a day. A day in which no one died, no one got ill, no bad news or upsets. Okay, yes, it was melodramatic, but it felt very real at the time. I figured a day was not to much to ask, just 24 little hours. It was, I reasoned, the lesson the Universe was trying to teach me - be thankful for those hours in which everything is fine.

It's been six years now. Six years filled with a lot of days in which everything was fine. I began to take it for granted again. Easy to do when things are good. Weeks go by with nary a negative event. Friends and family are healthy, the bills get paid, vacations are planned and even sometimes taken. Thankfulness becomes complacency.

But tonight; of course it would be tonight; I am reclaiming that thankfulness. Because in the last year there have been a lot of bumps in the road. But for every bump, there has been a bright spot. A friend diagnosed with cancer this time last year has waged an epic battle and one year on is on the cusp of being free of the disease. I was laid off - but from a job that I didn't especially enjoy but couldn't seem to muster the gumption to leave. So four months on, still unemployed I feel a renewed sense of finding and following my bliss; just to name a couple of the biggies - and in between there have been little moments of disappointment, always followed by aha moments of understanding. Everything happens for a reason.

So tonight I am thankful for so very many things. For a friend getting better, for new horizons, for good people, friends old and new, for new adventures, new lessons yet to be learned. I am thankful for big brothers, silly dogs, wonderful (and silly) nephews and a bright and beautiful niece. For all the hours in which things are good and calm and peaceful. And I am thankful for a rainy, stormy night in Portland that gave me the time to slow down and see it all.

If I Had a Million Dollars

What a fun game - to imagine what you would do if you had a million dollars. Anything you wanted (as long as it is legal, of course). Graduate school perhaps? Buy a great house? Get a new car? Hey - maybe travel for an entire year! Say a new country every month (okay, Spain and Italy get two months each - those places are huge!). Ride freighters all over the world. Buy an around the world ticket. Start a non-profit. Fund a non-profit. Start a business. Run for office The possibilities are endless, really.

What a dangerous game. Dangerous? Yes. Because if you could do that with a million dollars, why can't you do it now? I can hear the denials piling up in my brain as I type that. What about the debt I already have? How would I, could I ever do any of that without that money? Still, I have to believe that if I put my mind to it, I could do it. Maybe it would take some work and planning and research and organization. But I am pretty sure that I could do it. Sure, I might fall flat on my face during the execution of it, and yet wouldn't it be fun - or at least exhilarating - to try?

I keep reading all these books on the 'new economy,' ones that tell me that the time is now to take chances. Ones that say that rarely has there been a better time to start a business or take a risk. And maybe I am falling for the propaganda. Still, there is something in there that sounds plausible to me. That maybe, just maybe I don't actually need a million dollars, that I don't need to win the lottery to make my dreams come true. Maybe all I need is to actually act on my dreams. Really, it's kind of like the slogan you always hear for that self same lottery - you can't win if you don't play.

Decking the Halls

The Holiday season is fast approaching, and there seems to be very little anyone can do to get out of it's path. Don't get me wrong, I love big holiday dinners, can't get enough of turkey, stuffing and pumpkin pie. I love little twinkling lights on trees and houses. I love the idea of wrapping gifts in beautiful, festive papers and ribbons. I love the idea of the holidays. I am not always so fond of the reality of them.

For some reason I have a picture of the holidays in my head that vaguely resembles something that Norman Rockwell would have painted. Snowy landscapes, children on sleds, a comely, slightly zaftig maternal type happily industrious in the kitchen while the handsome and grey templed paternal type cheerfully fixes some toy for a youngster. Sadly, my view of the holidays more closely resembles a cheesy 50's sit-com than reality has tried to teach me. The truth is that my holiday experiences have been Kafka-esque than Rockwell-esque (and by Kafka, it leans decidedly more towards The Trial than it does Metamorphosis. Seemed important to clarify that...).

I'm not trying to disparage big family holidays. I know people who have them and genuinely love them. However, such holidays just have not been the majority of my experience, and I am always surprised by how many people I know who feel the sane way. People who want family gatherings to be something more (or less) than what we end up getting. We walk in with the high hopes, only to leave feeling oddly disconcerted and unfulfilled.

Since I have finally faced the fact that the holidays for me are far more existential than quintessential, I am a happier person. Now that the unrealistic expectations have been set aside, holiday time has become much more enjoyable; in fact, the holidays that I spend alone are really quite lovely in my book. And that is what seems to baffle most everyone I know - why in heaven's name would anyone choose to be alone at Thanksgiving; or worse, at Christmas???

It is because in those moments I can bask in what I love about my family, what I love about my friends, and enjoy the quiet solitude of that affection and admiration. Move that Rockwell painting a little to the left and you will see the person sitting in the snowy clearing, alone and content, appreciating the hush of the forest, drinking in the landscape, just being in that moment. Happy because they know that the house is just over there; where there are family and friends and noise and chaos, ever changing but ever constant; still within reach, but at a happy distance. That person? That would be me.