Tag Archives: Dexter

Gratitude Friday

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This post is a mashup of The Little Bliss List and Joy Jam, and as such is meant to celebrate: the little things that brought me hope and happiness this week, the sweet stuff of life, those small gifts that brought me joy this week. By sharing them, I not only make public my gratitude, but maybe also help you notice your own good stuff and send some positive energy out into the world.

1. Dexter, home and whole. A week after the “bloody scare,” the boy is doing good. We are accepting that there may not be a reasonable way to get a definitive diagnosis, to know for sure he has cancer, so we are living in the moment with him. And in this moment, he is happy and well, and I am grateful.

2. Eric. I often find myself wondering how I could possibly walk through this life without him. He makes me laugh, but is also right there when I’m having a meltdown. I can always count on him to help, to carry extra weight or take over entirely when it all gets too much for me. I am so lucky.

3. Good friends. The kind that don’t shy way or avoid me when things get really hard, even when I am going publicly crazy. All I have to do is ask, and they are right there, ready to help, giving hugs and good advice, offering support, reminding me that I am not alone.

4. Rocky Mountain Bee Plants in the wild. These were by the back pond in McMurry Ponds Natural Area, the section they rehabbed a few years ago. It’s close enough to our house that I like to think our plants were their origins.

5. Silly sitcoms on Netflix streaming. I have moved past so many of my numb out, chill out, “go to” zone out behaviors that TV is about the only thing I have left, although we haven’t had cable TV for almost ten years. Having access to 20 minute episodes of fairly mindless comedies available to me on days when I just can’t muster the strength for anything else is nice.

Bonus joy: My new class of students. I really like them already, and we’ve only had two class sessions. Yesterday, they shared collages they’d made that showed who they are, what they love. I had been having a really hard day, and listening to them talk about their lives, make each other laugh, got me out of my own head, was just the medicine I needed.

August Break: Day 23

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I’ve heard fear described as “False Evidence Appearing Real,” and also as “Fuck Everything And Run.” However you choose to look at it, most of the time it isn’t helpful. The anxiety, anticipation, worry, tension, and stress I’ve felt in the last week has caused my hair to fall out, upset my stomach, disturbed my ability to eat and sleep in a healthy way, depleted my physical energy and health, triggered strong emotions, and shook my sanity. None of these things has been useful, none of them altered the outcome, changed reality in any way, other than weakening my ability to deal with it.

So I am trying to stay in the moment, stick with what’s really going on right now. I am trying to stay open to both the tenderness and the terror. When I stick with that, I can take a long walk with Dexter in the morning, and in those moments, he doesn’t have cancer and isn’t dying. I can watch him resting after and know that he is happy and well, in this moment. That’s all I’ve got right now, and I am trying my best to stay with it–to know what I know, to touch what is right in front of me.

There’s also a watermelon growing in our flowerbed. We didn’t plant it on purpose. It’s probably seeded from one we composted last summer.

The squash growing in the same flower bed, ones we planted on purpose, have huge blossoms.

Life is glorious, but life is also wretched. It is both. Appreciating the gloriousness inspires us, encourages us, cheers us up, gives us a bigger perspective, energizes us. We feel connected. But if that’s all that’s happening, we get arrogant and start to look down on others, and there is a sense of making ourselves a big deal and being really serious about it, wanting it to be like that forever. The gloriousness becomes tinged by craving and addiction.

On the other hand, wretchedness–life’s painful aspect–softens us up considerably. Knowing pain is a very important ingredient of being there for another person. When you are feeling a lot of grief, you can look right into somebody’s eyes because you feel you haven’t got anything to lose–you’re just there. The wretchedness humbles us and softens us, but if we were only wretched, we would all just go down the tubes. We’d be so depressed, discouraged, and hopeless that we wouldn’t have enough energy to eat an apple.

Gloriousness and wretchedness need each other. One inspires us, the other softens us. They go together. ~Pema Chödrön