Gratitude * Sunday
Sunday’s heartfelt tradition.
A time to slow down,
to be grateful.
A list of gratitudes.
Our gratefulness feeds one another.
Quoted from Taryn Wilson
Joining the Gratitude Sunday Tradition at Wooly Moss Roots.
staked against windy spring days,
strive toward harvest.
Mother’s Day Sunday Musings
I’m not going to write much about my mother. I love her dearly. She loves me dearly as well; she is always my biggest supporter. I’m not going to write about being a mother or mothering. For her and I it is what we do every day, not a separate special part of our lives. It is what it is and it is what we are. Mothers are whole people with much more to them than their children. If you read Kahlil Gibran, his poetry claims they aren’t really ours anyway; children merely come through us as their own selves regardless of our love. That’s not to discount our love, however, because love is what helps children thrive.
The pits about being chronically ill is time and its fluidity. While feeling puny these last couple of’ weeks I find Sunday comes around and I haven’t finished a post. Though I know I’ve been writing, suddenly it’s time to write Gratitude Sunday. I enjoy Gratitude Sunday so much. For me it takes a little less concentration, though I would not call them fluff pieces by any means. These essays are little adventures into my personal studies.
Several years ago everything was such a struggle, not that life for me has ever been easy, but my experience has been despite the best laid plans things do not always go according to expectation, if ever. If they go at all. You know, life just is for some of us, in spite of the new popular psychology myth we are suppose to believe about choices. Sometimes our choices, even the best choices don’t work for oh so many reasons. So much of life and living is beyond our control, but life continues despite the good and bad choices and their consequences. I wanted to get though this life without always being sad and angry, without some doctor labeling me depressed and prescribing those awful pharmaceutical drugs. I began my “gratefulness studies”. And so I read widely across many genres about other people’s ways of thinking, emoting, and spirituality, and about leadership and followership. It’s all good.
I took a serious look at my life and saw what I have is more than what I don’t have. I no longer believe in the scarcity myth which I think is a political control ploy. One needs only to look outside one’s door to see and experience the true abundance of life: weeds growing in the cracks of the sidewalks, grass, sun and rain, trees, fresh air, gardens, babies, people helping people. Put any seed in the dirt and give it a little sun and a little water and it grows. Nobody can take that away from you. The same is true of your mind. There is always going to be people out there who have more than you and people who have less.
I saw it’s ok to not have what I want, because today I have what I have. Desire is the challenge. I want things, not that I need more things in my life, but different things, and the things I have can be traded, sold, or exchanged for the things I want if I make the effort.
Relationships are harder. You can’t control other people. Nope, sorry, as much as you love them and they love you, you can’t. They will say and do things to hurt and things to soothe, maybe not the way you think you want or need them. But the only behavior you can control is yours.
I don’t pray any more for life to be easy. My prayers are sent to the universe so all powers will feel me. Life will never be easy, but there is plenty to be grateful for. All those not fun and hard things may still exist in my life, but what I am grateful for exists also. I put my energy into what I am grateful for.
My life is not easier, as each year I become less physically able to carry on. I see through different eyes. I choose how I think. It is work, progressive work. This is not easy and doesn’t happen naturally for a sassy cranky curmudgeoness. My heart isn’t big enough to carry sadness and anger every day, but it can expand infinitely with sweetness, grace, and light.
Flower Watch – old-fashioned classic and climbing roses; a whole little field of buttercups blooming by a small wetland area; sweet william; big fancy Oriental poppies; I love flowers that come in a range of colors such as the previous two, and the flowers that continue to bloom in my neighborhood: rhododendrons, azaleas, peonies, columbine, clematis, irises – surely a fantasy flower if there ever was one – golds, purples, and a white so bright it’s nearly silver. Flower Watch is a test as there are still so many names I don’t know yet.
Currently Reading – Farm City by Novella Carpenter; The Unofficial Downton Abbey Cookbook by Emily Ansara Bains; Bait and Switch by Barbara Ehrenreich; Quiet: the Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain. Yes, concurrently.
This week I have been grateful for:
- The two tiny half shell bits of a robin’s blue eggshell on the grass underneath their nest, and the memories that came with seeing them. Abundance.
- Finding a new store to get measured for support undergarments. It’s close to my mom’s to give me another excuse to visit. Now to budget. My size is expensive. Need multiples.
- Airflow and the east-west orientation of my house in relationship to organic, natural, human powered climate control which is what I have.
- Knock wood. My pollen allergies are still only minorly irritating.
- Some positive comments from a reader who enjoyed one of my recent posts about a place she’d been wanting to know more about.
- My son who is working almost a full time work week and discovering what it is like to maintain an adult schedule.
- This great video, This Is Water, from a commencement speech by David Foster Wallace who “gets it” and expresses it better than I do. One of the reasons I aspire to write well.
- Getting a new camera for Mother’s Day. Chose it and bought it for myself. Because I am a mother. Shut up.
- Life-long learning. See above; the techno ditz sees a curve ahead.
- My neighbor’s noisy Saturday night pre-Mother’s Day fiesta with live mariachi music. They sounded great!
- My sainted mother who continues to put up with Sassy Kas after all these years. I am, always have been, and continue to remain her problem child. Good thing I was first, made the other three a little easier. I hope.
Namaste. Peace. Blessings.