"I want to sing like the birds sing, not worrying about who hears or what they think."  Rumi

Cut paper collage CD insert, gift for a friend

Baby Blackbird

                  4x4 collage on gallery wrapped canvas. 

Toma Mi Corazon

My humble contribution to the Toma Mi Corazon silent auction benefitting La Pena on Saturday February 12th, 2011. Visit www.lapena-austin.org for more information. 

Beginnings

"The birds they sing at break of day, 'Start again...' I hear them say."  Leonard Cohen

Put a Bird on it!

Mixed media collage on 8x8 gallery wrapped canvas. 

Flight of Fancy

Mixed media collage on 12"x12" gallery wrapped canvas. Given to a friend as a birthday gift.

Created Winter 2010. Could be hung either way, according to one's preference.

The Things I take for Granted

12/30/10... On Christmas Day I emailed a friend of mine who is serving in the Peace Corps on an island in the Caribbean. I found out she has been without reliable running water since late October when Hurricane Tomas hit there. This is what she had to say:

"Hurricane Tomas devastated our island Oct 30-31.  We are still in recovery mode.  Went several weeks without water, power and any form of communication.  We still go long periods without water, I am on my 9th day right now.  Woke up this morning hoping today would be the day I'd get a shower and wash my hair but, no such luck.  My landlords have a water catchment so we have water that I carry for flushing the toilet." 

When I expressed concern and sympathy for her situation, especially on Christmas Day, she responded "The water issue is frustrating, but as life goes, no big deal.  People have lived for many generations with even less.  I will never take water for granted, it is precious."

Reading her words I realize how fortunate I truly am. I am amazed at the level of comfort and the many conveniences I completely take for granted: a roof over my head, easy communication with anyone, anywhere, at any time. Clean hot and cold running water, toilets that flush with the push of a lever, a ready supply of food of every kind, consumer goods and gadgets of every description, an excess of everything, it seems. 

I want to keep a picture in my mind of everything my friend is sacrificing in order to help others, without complaining about what she lacks. Whenever I hear myself getting complainy or whiny I want to remember how my friend and so many others live and work every day.

I am exceedingly grateful for this lesson, and for my wonderful friend. I am so blessed in every way.   

Rain

12/29/10 ~ Last night I didn't sleep very well, which isn't all that unusual. Even still, it was great to have arrived back home after traveling to see family over the holidays. We drove the final few hours of our trip in a slow drizzle that gave the Texas Hill Country a misty, otherworldly look, with fog rising off of creek beds and low clouds hugging the tops of hills. This made for a lovely wintry scene, which would have been more enjoyable if not for the rather iffy driving conditions. The drizzle continued as we arrived home, greeted our pets and unpacked. 

We've been in a drought for a while now, so any precipitation is welcome, as far as I am concerned. The rain picked up toward bed time and I happily fell asleep listening to it. When I woke up during the night, it was comforting and peaceful to lie there, listening to my sleeping husband's rhythmic breathing and the gentle rain while I snuggled with our happy cat. So, this morning I am giving thanks for seeing family during the holidays, arriving safely back home again, and the little bit of rain we've gotten since yesterday. I know it's not enough to be a drought breaker, but still...  

The Wisdom of Others

12/24/10... Yesterday I happened upon this quote by Cornel West: "Last, but not least, there is a need for audacious hope. And it's not optimism. I'm in no way an optimist. Optimism is a notion that if we keep doing what we're doing, things will get better. I don't believe that. I'm a prisoner of hope; that's something else."  From the commencement speech he gave at Wesleyan University in 1993.

I love Cornel West. He's a great pontificator, and he has the courage to speak the truth. These words of his leapt off the page at me. I've been thinking about this gratitude writing project. Seeing the many people, places and things to be grateful for is not so difficult. Writing about those things every day has been a pretty big challenge -- daunting even -- because I am not a writer, and like Cornel West, I don't think of myself as an optimist. Maybe I am hopeful, but I'm not sure. I do know that until I read these words, I would have said hope and optimism were the same. I am thankful for great minds, for people like Cornel West, who give me food for thought. I am grateful for the wisdom of others.  

Having a radar that fixes on 'the positive' doesn't mean a person only sees silver linings, but that's obvious, right? There are some pitfalls to avoid in writing about thankfulness. It can come across as self important, grandiose or trite, lapse into cheery feel-goodism, bland pollyanna niceness, or what I really fear: writing that makes people cringe and roll their eyes. This exercise has been eye opening, and I am thankful for that, too. Today is Christmas Eve. I said I would write about something I am grateful for, every day for 30 days, but I am going to take a break for a few days. I thank my friends who inspired me to try this experiment. I wish everyone a safe and happy holiday season. 

Teachers

I think it's safe to say this town is populated with its fair share of amazingly creative people. Writers, actors, musicians, film makers and fashion designers immediately come to mind -- textile, game and web designers, too. There are visual artists and craftspeople working in every medium imaginable. I have been fortunate enough to have some of them as teachers. I am thankful for their enthusiasm and generosity in sharing their knowledge with others. 

Some teach as their chosen profession, and some teachers come in the form of friends, insightful and wise. I learn from them, too. Today I send a big huge Thank You to all the teachers, everywhere.

Laughter

12/22/10... A few nights ago we watched the holiday movie "Elf" again, and not surprisingly, I laughed myself silly. I laughed until big fat tears streamed down my cheeks. I laughed at details I'd forgotten, and I laughed at lines moments before they were said. Apparently, the mere anticipation of them is enough to trigger the joy. 

Whoever said laughter is the best medicine was actually onto something, as it truly does have health benefits, reducing stress and releasing endorphins. Laughter is universal, and laughter is contagious. A little levity can make even the most grim of situations a little more bearable. We all laughed even before we learned to talk, and really, is there anything more adorable than a laughing baby? Laughing is something people everywhere have in common. Laughter breaks the ice, eases awkward social situations, and warms us to one another. I dedicate this post to laughter, and I celebrate the actors, writers, comics, my smart and funny friends, and all of the situations in life that make me smile out loud. 

Life's Little Luxuries

12/21/10... The season for indulgences of every type is upon us: parties, food, drink, not to mention temptations galore when allegedly shopping for other people's gifts. The gifts themselves can also be extravagant if TV, billboard, and magazine advertising are any indication. Apparently, you haven't really said "I love you" if there isn't a diamond involved, or a shiny new car parked in the driveway with a giant bow on top. Overeating, overspending, overdoing it in just about every way imaginable -- it's part and parcel of the holiday season. 

Today we allowed ourselves a little luxury, too: we dropped off the laundry to have it washed, dried and folded for us. I honestly don't mind doing the laundry, though I sure prefer doing it at home and not at the laundromat. One of the quirks of living in our sweet older house is the lack of proper, up to code, laundry hook-ups. Someday we'll remodel, and carving out a space for a washer and dryer is a top priority on that particular wish list. I am thankful we have a nice, new, pristine laundromat near us. It offers wifi, TV, a clean restroom, good air conditioning and large tables for folding. Despite these many amenities, I was perfectly happy not spending two hours there this afternoon. As Christmas fast approaches, it seems like time itself is a luxury in short supply.  So today, I am grateful for this little gift to myself -- 'Tis the season, after all.

Little Things

12/20/10... Gray foggy morning. School is out, and the street is quiet. Delicious fresh coffee, spiced with cinnamon. Waking up refreshed after the all too rare, good night's sleep. Tiny birds splashing in the birdbath. Going for a drive last night to see Christmas lights and illuminarias: oh how we adore this twinkly sparkly holiday! Looking forward to socializing with friends, tonight and tomorrow. Anticipating the official arrival of Winter. Traveling soon, to see family. Cards arriving from friends and loved ones. Marking tasks off the 'to do' list. Today, I am grateful for a lot of little things, fleeting moments, and tiny details. I love how these little things add up to bigger things. Things like peace and happiness.

Old Family Recipes

I am going to give thanks for the dinner we just put in the oven because I am sure, even without tasting it, that it's going to be heart-warming and delicious. I know this because we've prepared a holiday favorite of my husband's mom, Nola. This is the recipe she always made the day after Thanksgiving and Christmas. Everyone has their preferred way to use leftover holiday turkey, and this dish was her particular favorite. Even though we have taken a few liberties with it -- because some really do like it hot -- it is still close enough to her recipe that we think of it as Nola's sopa de pollo. We even use the very same casserole dish she used. Not only is this dish a sentimental favorite, but it is darn tasty too. Some folks love their mac-n-cheese, but this is one of my favorite comfort foods. Served hot and bubbly from the oven, it warms me from the inside out.

 

I will probably never share Nola's expertise in cooking. She was a whiz in the kitchen, an expert baker, among other things. She grew up on a farm, and learned to cook using the best and freshest ingredients; a 'locavore' and 'slow food' specialist long before those terms entered the vernacular. This recipe no doubt came along later, since it incorporates prepared soup and canned hatch chiles, but it always struck me that she'd hit upon a great way to serve a hearty and satisfying dinner to a crowd, while giving herself a break after the exhausting frenzy of 'from scratch' cooking that was a requirement for her holiday dinners. Nola took cooking very seriously. She didn't merely put some random ingredients together just so she could throw some food on the table. The cooking she did for family and friends was an expression of her love for them. I am grateful for the old family recipes, the tried and true favorites that connect us to the generations that came before us. I may not be the most conventional person, or a traditionalist, but keeping the family recipes close at hand and heart, feeds us, body and soul. 

DADT

Dec. 18, 2010   Today I am grateful for the repeal of DADT and the many activists who work tirelessly for peace, justice and human rights -- equal rights -- for everyone. I am grateful this historic measure will likely pave the way for further injustices to be corrected. I am imagining legal decisions based on reasoning that goes something like "If gay Americans can serve in the military and risk life and limb protecting the freedom most of us take for granted, then shouldn't they have the freedom to marry whomever they choose?" I hope it happens. I hope it happens soon. Today I am grateful that those who fight the good fight have struck a blow for equality. It's about time.

Getting Older

I spent a lot of my younger years dreading getting older or, to put it more accurately, getting old. I know vanity had a great deal to do with that. After all, what 25 year old looks forward to becoming wrinkled and watching their hair turn grey? Ah, the callowness of youth... Losing a few friends at a young age turned me around on that front, though. Obviously, getting older beat the alternative of an untimely demise. Now that I'm actually there I can report that, as of my mid 50s, being older really is not so bad after all. I know this is due in large part to having some really great friends and a wonderful spouse to share the journey with. There have been a few bumps in the road, but so far, nothing we can't manage. Who was it who said what doesn't kill me makes me stronger --  Kanye West? Nietzsche? I am not sure, but I think they were on to something. Also, to my amazement I have discovered there are certain advantages to getting older such as, dare I say it, becoming more of a grown-up, and letting go of some useless old baggage. Getting friendly with the notion that life offers all sorts of opportunities for learning lessons was also helpful. It isn't always easy. In fact, getting schooled by life sometimes means putting one's pain threshold to the test. It's not as though I have everything all figured out. Very very far from it, in fact. But I'm looking forward to living more. And learning more. I could not have dreamed up a more perfect partner to grow old with. I am happy to be the age I am. Happy and grateful. 

Holiday Rituals

Written 12/16/10 ~ Holiday rituals come in all shapes and sizes, but some of the most enjoyable are, not surprisingly, the small ones. Tonight's entertainment, for example: we watched the 1938 version of A Christmas Carol. It was charming, sweet, and very touching. By now, everyone knows the story: by way of supernatural intervention, a hard and mean miser rediscovers his compassion, his ability to accept love and joy into his heart, and the universal truth that it truly is more blessed to give than to receive. Yes, I'm a big sap; this version of the holiday classic tugged my heart strings and ruined my mascara. Thanks a lot, TCM. Okay, I'm kidding about that last part. I wasn't wearing makeup. But I'm completely sincere about loving this holiday ritual. These lines, spoken by Scrooge's nephew, especially stood out:   

"I've always looked upon Christmas as a good time; a kind, gentle, charitable, forgiving and pleasant time. It's the only time when people open their hearts freely. The only time when men and women realize that all human beings are really members of the same family; that being members of the same family they owe each other some measure of warmth and solace." 

                             

I think that sums up the holiday feeling rather nicely. Before we settled in to watch the movie, my husband, being creative with spirits of a completely different sort, came up with this perfect holiday beverage. I love that it is rich, tasty and sweet, somewhat like traditional nog, since it is dairy based, but without the crazy-long list of frightening sounding ingredients, or the torturous, wrist-punishing whipping of the many eggs required for making egg nog from scratch. Here's the recipe -- for responsible grown-ups only, of course -- I call it Not Nog.  

                             

                          

Fill a Tom Collins glass about halfway with ice

Add 2 oz brandy

1 oz Frangelico or Hazelnut Liqueur

1 oz  Baileys

add milk or 1/2 & 1/2 to taste

grate fresh nutmeg over top, if desired

stir and enjoy

          

I am grateful for these little gifts we share: a nice festive cocktail, sipped while watching a holiday classic about selflessness and redemption. I raise my glass to pleasant holiday rituals and offer this toast, a gentle reminder from Dickens, "I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year." 

The new issue of a favorite magazine has arrived in today's mail. The cover photograph, in black and white, features the portrait of a young woman, eyes closed, serene expression on her face. She has a perfectly smooth scalp. Putting all this info together, and given the focus of the magazine, I immediately think "buddhist nun." The inside cover reveals the truth: Another photo of the woman, but in this one enough of her torso is showing that it is apparent she has had one breast removed. I start reading through the magazine, and all articles center on the same topic: medicine. Fiction, poetry, personal essays from readers, and photography all revolve around this central theme. There is a lengthy interview with a well known MD who is trained in western medicine, but preaches and practices a more alternative approach. At the end of the slim periodical there is a third photograph of the same woman featured on the cover -- still with a calm expression on her face, only now her eyes are open and she gazes directly into the camera. A single shiny wet line runs from each eye. One tear rests on her cheek, and the other falls to her chin. I am immediately struck by the beauty of the photographs, the sadness I see in them, and the courage of this woman. I am also wondering about her. It is apparent what was going on at the time the pictures were taken, but how is she now?  I think of a friend of mine currently fighting her own battle with cancer, and I think about my best friend, now considered cured after being treated for it over 20 years ago. I think about my husband, still not cancer free after three years of treatment. I think about my sister and another friend's husband who both succumbed to this terrible disease.

Elsewhere in the magazine, I find out more about the photographer and the woman featured in the photos. At the time she was being treated for a rare form of breast cancer, and feared she would not survive the year. She wanted the pictures made because she says "no one wants to look at it, even though everyone has known someone with breast cancer. I wanted to show people what it really is." 

I admire this woman for facing this disease so directly, so unflinchingly, and for documenting her journey, which will no doubt inspire and encourage others. I am thinking of everyone who faces a cancer diagnosis. I am grateful for the medical practitioners and researchers who dedicate themselves to eliminating this disease, and for the hospice workers who help transition those who don't survive it. I am thankful for the bone marrow donors who, often anonymously, give so much hope, and oftentimes a cure to others.

The magazine tells me the woman featured in the photographs is now cancer free, has regrown her hair and has resumed her life. I am happy for her and her loved ones. I am grateful for her courage in telling her story, and to the photographer for telling it with so much grace and sensitivity.

Friends

We talk and we listen. 
We confess our hopes and fears. We have much in common. We are uniquely individual. We hang out in person, and we stay in touch across the miles. We are silly, and we are serious. We disagree, and we forgive. We inspire. We cheer each other on. We congratulate our wins and console our losses. We laugh. We cry. We counsel. We encourage, and we support. We love. And I would be completely lost without them. I am so grateful for my friends.

My Garden

12-13-10 ~ I love my garden. Then again, I love most gardens. Large public gardens and private ones, whether they're formal, native, tropical, minimal or cottage style -- japanese, xeriscaped, desert or water gardens, all interest and inspire me. Plants and trees organized into planned landscapes or growing naturally in the wild, to my eyes, all are beautiful in their own way. Just being in natural surroundings makes me happy, mosquitoes and high humidity notwithstanding, of course. Our own garden -- our back yard -- started out as a rather blank canvas of St. Augustine lawn with a few trees here and there. After looking at it for a couple of years, we had a fairly good idea what we wanted, so we sought the expertise of a master gardener to help us make a plan we could mostly install ourselves. Fast forward a few years, and the more our garden has become established, the more I have fallen in love with it. It is one of the first things I see every day. In warm weather, I sit outside overlooking it while I enjoy my morning coffee. Same routine in the evening, except with a glass of wine. Judging by their presence, cats and birds also find these surroundings agreeable. It is a place that soothes and quiets; a sanctuary of peace and beauty. It is also a work in progress that varies seasonally and continues to take shape as it matures over time. I love the state of flux our garden exists in. Never static, our garden is always changing, but in subtle ways that pull me in, inviting me to slow down and take a closer look. I enjoy getting to know the critters who call it home. We have tried to make a haven for birds who are year-round residents and for those who pass through twice a year. I am so grateful for my garden. We give it a little bit of love and care, and it rewards us in the form of flowers and greenery, expressing its own gratitude in return.   

12/11/10 ~ Today I am grateful for the two good samaritans who stopped to assist us when our newly purchased Christmas tree flew off the roof of our car, blocking an entire lane of traffic on a main thoroughfare in our town. 

We have all relied on the kindness of strangers from time to time, and I am exceedingly thankful these kind strangers happened along when they did. Their willingness to stop and lend a helping hand more than made our day and is a great reminder that there are many kind and helpful people out there. I wince, knowing how badly this story might have ended, and I give thanks aplenty that no one was hurt by the projectile tree. 

The tree itself sustained only minor injuries and will bless us with its presence throughout the remainder of the holiday season. I am grateful for that, too.

Written on December 11, 2010 ~ This afternoon was spent visiting with a friend. We talked, over coffee, and caught up on what's been going on with each other since we last sat and talked. We covered a lot of ground, from the personal to the political and a lot of topics in between. It was what a conversation should be: funny, sad, sweet, touching, enlightening and revelatory, with equal amounts of talking and listening.

Like many people, most days I rely on emails, facebook status updates, and texts to stay in touch with friends. These wonders of our modern times are great up to a point, but for me, there is nothing quite like being right there with the person I am talking to. Facial expressions, tone of voice -- we all know these are impossible to get across in electronic communication, and oftentimes it seems a little something is lost in translation. Electronic communication has its place. I know I'm addicted to it and depend upon it like almost everyone does, but there's just no satisfying substitute for the intimacy of eye contact, a non-virtual hug, or spoken words that fall on actual ears. Today, I am grateful for long conversations with real friends.

Attention Holiday Shoppers!

12/10/10... Today we went Christmas shopping. Holiday shopping is such a crap shoot; sometimes all goes smoothly, and sometimes frustration reigns supreme. There is so much potential for run-ins with grouchy, stressed-out motorists and shoppers, or to become a grouchy, stressed-out motorist or shopper, but today was just about as stress-free as a holiday outing can possibly be. We went to the local indy bookstore and got something for just about everyone on our list. The store was busy, but not crazed, checkout was a breeze, and everyone we encountered was cheerful and helpful. The holidays can bring out the "me me me" in people pretty darn quick, but not today -- at least, not for us. Today the gods of light traffic - good parking spaces - nice sunny weather - short lines - friendly people - fantastic selection smiled upon us. You gotta be grateful for that. I know I am. And I wish stress-free holiday shopping to all of you, too.  

Written Dec. 9, 2010 ~ I am grateful for our pets, and the neighbor cats who visit our garden and enrich our little corner of the universe. Pets touch our lives and warm our hearts. Our homes seem incomplete without them. Our hearts break into a million pieces when we lose them. I don't question why we love these critters so much, I simply give thanks for the ones that played with us as children, watched us grow up, and in some cases followed us into adulthood. There have been big ones, small ones, short-haired and shaggy ones. Smart ones and yes, even slow ones. Canine, feline, and feathered friends, they all share something in common: They really do show us how to be better people. They truly do make us more human.

John Lennon

Written on Dec. 8th, 2010 -- Today is the 30th anniversary of John Lennon's assassination. Those of us who are Beatles fans and who were alive thirty years ago remember the shocking news, the disbelief, and the numbing grief in the days that followed. John Lennon was an artist of extraordinary range and talent whose gifts were not limited to writing some of the world's most memorable pop songs. He also spread a universal message of love and peace that continues to inspire. He was a complex and flawed individual, and some reject his image as a peace-loving person, but we all know that humans are multidimensional beings with equally complicated psyches. I don't think it is a huge contradiction to be a spokesman for world peace and brotherly love, while privately at odds with oneself, or to have artistic and personal differences with bandmates and loved ones. These kinds of conflicts are so human. I don't think John Lennon ever aspired to be seen as some kind of saint or wished to be held to a ridiculous and impossible standard of perfection. But he did stand up and courageously speak out against war, and I loved him for that. We could use a heaping helping of his truth right now. I know there will never be another John Lennon. I miss his voice, his courage, his simple message to Give Peace a Chance. I love that so many people still honor the life and legacy of John Lennon. I love that a whole new generation of kids are growing up to be fans. I am so grateful for the life and music and the message of my favorite Beatle, John Lennon. 

Being Alive and not Taking it for Granted

Written Dec. 7, 2010                        

I have a friend who, upon hearing the news of a death, will often say "Enjoy every sandwich."  I believe the quote is attributable to the late, great Warren Zevon. I love Mr. Zevon's way of suggesting we not take life, or anything about it -- even a sandwich -- for granted. I am thinking about this quote because in the past few weeks, and as recently as a couple of days ago, I have heard that two people I've known have passed away. One of these deaths was completely unexpected, and both of these people died far too young. Both were in their 40s and in seemingly good health, until one was found dead in his home, and the other succumbed rather quickly to a recently diagnosed brain tumor.
Although they did not know each other, they shared some important qualities. Both were fun to be around, full of life, and very gifted. I was introduced to each by mutual friends and I had the pleasure of getting to know them better when I worked for them in their homes. Today I am thinking about these two with more than a twinge of sadness, and a bit of regret that we had not stayed in touch. I am also thinking about death, which I must admit, has always frightened me. I have never been completely comfortable with the idea of death, the finality of it, or with the sadness that comes with loss. Considering my claim that impermanence is the centerpiece of my belief system, I seem to have a difficult time wrapping my head and my heart around grief and loss.
So, there's the obvious lesson here: to not take a single day for granted; to enjoy every sandwich because it may be the last. But maybe, hopefully, I can also learn something more from these two friends. Perhaps I can try and live my own life a little more in keeping with how they lived theirs: to enjoy life with all its joys and its sorrows, to not waste whatever gifts I've been given, and to share those gifts generously. They both set marvelous examples of how to live life, and I am sad and very sorry they are gone. I am also grateful that I knew them both. I will end this with another quote, this one from Emily Dickinson. "That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet." 

Dedicated to the one I love

                                                                    

12/06/10... Please indulge me while I rave about my wonderful husband Mike. Today is our wedding anniversary, so what better day to express my gratitude for him? We met so many years ago, back in 70s, that it is hard to put an exact date or year on it. He was in grad school, and I met him at a going away party for one of his friends. We didn't get together then, but our paths crossed many times over the years. He played in an electro-celtic band, and one of his bandmates ended up marrying a good friend of mine. My friend kept telling me she thought Mike and I were perfect for each other. Eventually the stars aligned and we began dating. That was 23 years ago. We dated for a few years, broke up and got back together along the way. Eventually, we moved in together, and after seven more years, got married after a short engagement. Our relationship has survived a few false starts, another break-up, and a cancer diagnosis. My friend turned out to be right, though. He is the perfect person for me. I have never known anyone whose temperament so exactly complements mine. We rarely argue, in fact, we never do. We hardly ever disagree on anything. We are so compatible it is ridiculous. Where I am excitable, emotional and reactive, he is calm and patient. He is steadfast, true, forgiving, funny as hell, and even smarter. He is generous, supportive, kind, modest, adorable and a history buff who never runs out of fascinating stories to tell. He is also a very talented musician who plays so many instruments that I can't even think of all of them. One of the results of the bone marrow transplant and radiation treatments he received in 2009 is that he lost complete movement in some fingers of his left hand, the one he needs for fretting the guitar and mandolin. He has never complained about losing his ability to play those instruments, and has talked about teaching himself to play left handed. I know he can do anything he sets his mind to. He has a big heart, a social conscience, an open mind, a ton of integrity, and I thank my lucky stars that he loves me. The world is a better place with him in it, and I cannot imagine my world without him.  

Music

Written on December 5, 2010

Okay, this one begins with a question. Is saying you love something the same as expressing your gratitude for it? If love and gratitude aren't the same, they are surely very closely related. Perhaps like most siblings or cousins; the same DNA but not identical. Anyway, I think it is probably impossible to have one without the other. Today I am thinking about everything I love. You know what I mean, of course. The things that make us just plain glad to be alive: birds singing, seasons changing, children playing and laughing, our pets, delicious food, great company, art and music, just to name a few. Music is a huge one for me. Of all the art forms, music is the most immediate. Nothing else can change my mood from grouchy to happy, from lighthearted to serious, from energy-flagging mope to booty-shaking dork in an instant. Some songs or pieces of music make me well up with tears, without fail, just from their sheer beauty or because I closely associate them with people I love, some living and some not. Music can touch that tender spot in me like nothing else. Some songs represent us so perfectly that we make them our personal anthems. Everyone has the experience of time traveling to their youth, their school days, or their first years of independence triggered by the tunes that were in heavy rotation at the time. Music accompanies important passages and events in our lives -- birthdays, holidays of every description, graduations, weddings -- these occasions would seem incomplete without music. We have all had moments that seemed perfect because that particular song or passage of music we love so much just happened to play at the right time, and we've all been helped through trying times and dark moments with the help of the music that moves and inspires us. The songs that accompany our individual journeys in life are more than a collection of melody, harmony, rhythm and meter; they become a part of who we are. Our personal playlists do more than indicate our taste in music. They become woven into our psyches, so much so, that many people request that their favorites be played or sung at their funerals. That's a pretty powerful thing. So today I sing the praises of music. I am grateful for all the music I love, the music out there still unheard, that I will love, and I'm grateful to all the wonderful people making music. Thank you.         

Gratitude, Day 2

Written on December 4, 2010 ~ This morning I am thinking about the stuff that makes up our lives.... but I don't mean the big important stuff like family, friends, education, work and leisure. I really do mean stuff. Today's exercise in gratitude is not going to be a love letter to my prized possessions, though. What I am thinking about are the origins of objects, the story of them, and of the many many people who have quite literally had a hand in making the things that fill my home and my life. Some of these people are well known to me, familiar, though now departed, such as my dear father. 

My dad was born in Canada in 1917, to immigrant parents who then settled in the northeastern part of the U.S. Most likely by necessity, they practiced the thriftiness for which people of this region are known. I have a small wooden bin my father made for storing his used paper grocery bags. Clearly, my dad made the bin from scraps saved from previous woodworking projects; the odd piece of pine here, a forlorn bit of plywood there, now put to good use. It was sawn, assembled, glued, nailed and stained by hand. Devoid of ornamentation, it is functional, practical, and made of materials most people would have chucked into the trash. This humble green bin says a lot about about my father's origins, upbringing and worldview. The working mantra of his life and times was "waste not, want not."  I love that my dad made a bin for storing reusable brown grocery bags from a motley assortment of old scrap wood: recycling before it was cool, and a far cry from the modern throwaway mindset. 

The wooden bin is one object in my life that I know the story of, but what about the rest? For example, the favorite old lamp that is making it possible for me to see what I'm doing, right this second? Whose life did the lamp 'light up' before ours? When I think about the things that occupy my personal sphere - my home, I wonder whose lives they touched before mine, or whose hands they were touched by before they landed in mine. I wonder especially who made these objects. What factory worker, what laborer, what craftsperson in an exotic locale? Every object that fills my life was made possible by the toiling hands of others. Without them I would have nary a stitch of clothing, a dish to eat from, or chair from which to sit and type. I'm afraid we mostly take the ready availability of these things for granted. I know I do, most of the time. I am grateful for the labor of others, but I wonder about these workers, too: if they enjoy their work or merely tolerate it? Do they earn a decent living or have any energy left at the end of their workday so they can laugh and play with their children? Do they, in turn, wonder what becomes of the things they make? I wonder if they know how much their work matters to others? That we would mostly live in empty houses without them? Maybe they do. I hope so. 

Two of my friends are keeping Gratitude Journals during the holidays, and I love the idea so I am doing one, too. The following posts were originally written in December 2010.
                          
Dec. 3, 2010. Morning. So far, today is sunny and beautiful. Chilly, but not really cold. I am sitting, coffee cup in hand, facing east into a glowing, sun-filled window. I am in the comfy chair, feet propped up on a footstool, trusty macbook on my lap. Doves, sparrows and mockingbirds move constantly; blurred forms silhouetted beyond a scrim of sheer drapery as they go about their own mornings. Shadows of leaves, limbs and branches offer additional texture and movement. It's a sort of silent movie with occasional birdsong as a soundtrack. I never tire of it, tuning in almost daily this time of year; it is nature's version of The Morning Report. I am so happy to be here, taking it all in. In my little world, there is so much to be grateful for that the true challenge is finding a place to begin. So I will begin with 'right now'. Right now, I am grateful for this beautiful moment, and for a life so plentiful, I may soon discover that the list of things to be thankful for is infinite. Right now, I am grateful for this beautiful  morning. I love the mornings. Each and every morning feels like a fresh start to me. A promise begging to be kept. In the morning I feel that anything is possible; that I can form the day into whatever shape I like. Every single day brings discovery, if I open my eyes enough to see it, though I cannot always claim to have accomplished much by day's end. Sometimes I fall into the trap of chastising myself for this. But not 'right now'. Right now is still a moment so full of morning light and possibility that I recognize it for what it truly is: the perfect starting place. How could I not be grateful for that?