Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Reflections On Gratitude


Gratitude

In the midst of my often too busy life, of my awareness of the suffering of we humans and other beings, of my consciousness of the multitude of crises which we are faced with at this time on Earth, etc., etc., I am also reminded of the utter necessity of laughter, love, beauty, nature, connection, kindness, tenderness, hugs, humor, gratitude. 

Nearly thirty years ago an early therapist suggested I develop a gratitude practice. I did not know what in the heck that meant or what it could possibly look like, feel like, be like to "practice gratitude." Didn't he know that I was thawing out from my young lifetime of shutting down, shutting out, shutting up and that now that I was beginning to open my eyes and my heart that everything was serious, serious, serious?!?

That was then. Thank God/Goddess/Mystery. 

In these lovely evening moments tonight it has come to me spontaneously to write what first comes to mind, right now, that touches my heart with gratitude...

Ron, my oh-so-sweet husband.
My three amazing sons.
Their amazing wives.
Brian and Marita's new home.
That maybe I'll get to be a grandma sooner than later. Maybe.
That there is this lovely brief moment of setting sunlight out my window.
The countless beautiful and dear people in my life and in my heart.
That my mom is near.
That Mom told me tonight - again! - that she is so proud of
what I have done with my life.
That miracles happen.
That I get to Wake Up. 
Nature, Wild Places, Mother Earth.
Springtime and all the seasons.
The connection we share with all beings.
That I save spiders and other tiny creatures.
That one of our three kitties and one of our two doggies are hanging with me.
That we have dogs who will bark to alert us to there being racoons in the pond.
That the racoons whose mischief woke our dogs who woke us just before 3am 
didn't eat any of our fish.
That each of my sons are on their paths.
That I get to have this life, this amazing life.
That I can cry.
That I can laugh from my belly.
That healing happens.
That the seeds of kindness are continually growing.
That Ron and I just planted even more flowers.
That my altars permeate our home.
That Ron's altars permeate the outside of our home in the form of 
lush, lovely, wild jungle-like beauty everywhere.
That this list could go on like my love for Ron does,
which is to infinity plus one.

What does your list look like? ...

Hands clasped, bowing 
to us all.

Molly


No comments: