“Our holiday food splurge was a small crate of tangerines, which we found ridiculously thrilling after an eight-month abstinence from citrus.... Lily hugged each one to her chest before undressing it as gently as a doll. Watching her do that as she sat cross-legged on the floor one morning in pink pajamas, with bliss lighting her cheeks, I thought: Lucky is the world, to receive this grateful child. Value is not made of money, but a tender balance of expectation and longing.”
― Barbara Kingsolver, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life
i come fully awake in the middle of the night. our bedroom is cold,
yet i am cozy and warm under the comforter. i note that he and the dog
are gently snoring and a slight smile emerges. i understand,
in a split second, that gratitude is what i am feeling.
i think about Novembers of years past, the gratitude
thing, making lists, taking note of sights and smells and sounds
that find they way into my simple life.
i contemplate how the practice is strong for a few months
before it slips quietly into my everyday, drawing less and less of my attention.
“When things are taking their ordinary course, it is hard to remember what matters.”
– Marilynne Robinson, Gilead
i ponder lists of riches: clean running water, grocery stores full of food,
our health, cars that run, a gym membership, our library, my camera, nature. . .
things i do take for granted, but things i do take note of. i lay in the dark,
in the chill of our bedroom, understanding that there is a deep
craving inside of me to delve in with intent to formulate a true practice.
i mull over how this might look and wake in the morning with no other plan,
other than the yearning inside of me.
“Some people have a wonderful capacity to appreciate again and again, freshly and naively, the basic goods of life, with awe, pleasure, wonder, and even ecstasy.”
— A.H. Maslow
i sketch out a few ideas with my morning latte, putting no restrictions or rules in place.
i decided to go public, post them daily through the whole month, making
them part of my 366.
i can't help but wonder what might come of it?
“I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want to be anything more. I was entirely happy. Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.”
― Willa Cather, My Ántonia