Tag Archives: Gratitude Friday

Gratitude Friday

1. Morning walks. If I want to take pictures, I have to wait and go a bit later so we don’t miss the sunrise altogether. Even so, I can feel the light rising, can feel that there’s more of it each day — which seems like a metaphor for this moment, this season: the light is returning.

2. Practice. I just got done wild writing with my Friday morning group led by Laurie Wagner. I’m so glad that after a momentary delusion, a short break, thinking I could do without it, I was able to get back in when I understood it was essential.

3. Poetry. For a long time, I didn’t fully understand its magic, its medicine. Now I do, and was so happy to see that truth represented during the inauguration ceremony, of which Amanda Gorman was the best and brightest. “For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.” May this be “who we are.”

4. Nourishment, in all its various forms, that which feeds, that which cherishes.

5. My tiny family. Every night before dinner, Eric peels clementines for me to eat. When Ringo rolls over on his back so I can pet his belly, it seems like there could be nothing better.

Bonus joy: hanging out and writing with Mikalina, getting my office tidied, hot coffee, donut holes, a good mask (comfort and coverage), sitting in the infrared sauna with Eric, cooking with Eric, laundry, clean sheets, that corner of the couch, good TV (sometimes that means something dumb and easy), podcasts, books, music, stretching, turning the heat down because it feels good to pile on the blankets, gummy vitamins, reading in bed at night while Ringo and Eric sleep.

Gratitude Friday

The view from here, on the front porch

1. We’re still here. As Mary Oliver wrote in her poem Invitation: “It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world.” Today I am filled with grief, joy, rage, love, and confusion. And I’m still here. I’m not giving up. Don’t you give up either, kind and gentle reader — we need each other. And I mean this so sincerely, to know that there are others “out there” trying to make things better keeps me going.

The view from here, in the back yard

2. Practice. More than ever. I hope you have something similar, something that gives you a safe space to process, a soft place to land and a strong foundation, a still moment to be, to feel all the things.

3. Nourishment, comfort, and inspiration, in all its forms. Friends, family, dogs, birds at the feeder, sunshine, snow, the river, the sky, good mail, music, the pool, the sauna, essential workers, first responders, farm workers, medical professionals and staff, vaccines, clementines, fresh baked bread, pay day, podcasts, movies, TV, books, comedy, indoor plants, down pillows and blankets, soft merino wool, my HappyLight, texting with my mom and brother, hanging out and writing with Mikalina, hanging out with Chloe’, reading in bed at night while Ringo and Eric sleep.

4. The internet and the various devices that connect me to it. I get that we have to be careful, that there is risk and danger, but I am sitting here, connecting with you, sharing pictures I took with my phone, listening to one of my favorite playlists on Spotify using my Bluetooth speaker. I can text and Zoom with people I love but can’t see in person, I can access more content than I could consume in ten lifetimes. Etc.

5. Morning walks. It’s so dark out right now that there aren’t as many opportunity for pictures, but even as I say that, we are moving closer to the light.

6. My tiny family. They are my favorite.