Tag Archives: Eric

Gratitude Friday

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. Fall. The colors (vivid green, gold, red, purple, and brown–even the gray of rot and dust and the white of ice shimmers like it’s on fire), the temperature (sunny and warmish during the day, cool at night), the clothes (everything so soft and warm and cuddly), and the food (soup and warm drinks and cheese and carbs, solid comforting food).

2. 19 years with my favorite person. I still can’t get over how lucky I am.

19 years ago we eloped, got married in evergreen, colorado, and both wore green

3. Another Aimee Mann concert, with some of my favorite people in the audience. She’s so good, so talented and smart and funny, (Eric and I think we’ve seen her at least seven times now, including her Christmas variety show), and so gracious even when people in the crowd who’ve had too much to drink won’t stop yelling at her, (btw: wasn’t me).

Here’s the original Til Tuesday video.

4. Good days for Dexter. When there is no cure, and the treatments don’t make much difference, and you get closer to the end when the amount of time no longer matters as much as the quality: you can let go of the search for a better therapy, you can stop trying to control the outcome, you can let go of wishing things were different, you can surrender your panic and dread, and sink into fully experiencing each single day. All that matters is “was today a good day?” and if the answer is “yes,” you feel gratitude and agree to move together into the next day. You are present, you connect and love and are together for that day, that moment. You don’t spend your now banking time for later, waiting or hoping or dreading. This is exactly what life should be, what it is, and you experience it with an open heart. In this way, you won’t miss anything, won’t have regrets. Your heart will still break, but this is the deal when you love anything mortal.

5. My Writing Online, writing for the web class. I am grateful for how funny, smart, and creative these people are, how they laugh at my dumb jokes and make me laugh, how they help each other and the way they celebrate their successes, the way their particular voices are emerging. If this does end up being the last time I teach it for CSU, this will be a great community to end with.

Bonus Joy: Finding feathers in my path when I’m struggling, how they remind me that I am part of a tribe, a part of something beautiful.

Three Truths and One Wish

1. Truth: I find it really, really difficult to go on with my life as usual when someone I love is dying. Today is Eric and I’s 19th wedding anniversary, and even though we have tickets for an Aimee Mann concert tomorrow night, tickets I bought specifically as an anniversary present for us, we both forgot that today was the day to celebrate because we’ve been too distracted by the hard stuff in our lives. And it’s not just the big stuff I’m having trouble engaging, it’s all the small stuff. I had a moment last night when I noticed the thick layer of dust in the living room, on the books, the TV, the end tables, and my first thought after noticing was “I’ll dust when Dexter is gone, because I can’t face it right now, can’t waste time on that. It’s just not important.”

2. Truth: I don’t always know what to do. For a retired perfectionist, a master puzzle solver and super stubborn human, this is incredibly frustrating. I try to stay openhearted and present, quiet and still enough that my innate wisdom can arise, but quite often, the panicked chatter of my monkey mind and the howling of intense emotions get in the way and I am confused.

3. Truth: Practice helps me clear my mind and stay in the present moment. When I write, I can dump all the nonsense and the noise and work my way towards understanding. Yoga and walking help me to move, to feel my body in the world, just as it is, to engage with it fully, to release the tension of resisting the way things are and the wishing for things to be different. When I meditate, my mind softens and settles and I can practice being gentle, allowing my deeper wisdom and compassion to manifest. And the practices of love and dog constantly remind me of impermanence, of the reality that change is real and I have no control, that all I can do is surrender, to open my heart and love knowing full well that my heart will be broken as a result.

One wish: For relief, for our collective suffering, shared and private, to ease. For us to find the strength to stand right where we are, just as we are, keeping our hearts open to the way things really are, knowing that we are a part of something beautiful.