I began writing this blog before Thanksgiving, and now we have returned to our daily routine and entered the holiday season. This time of year is about giving, but it can also heighten stress as giving may feel obligatory rather than a reciprocal exchange of appreciation and care. The commercialization of the holidays often dampens my spirit, prompting me to pause and reflect on the many gifts I have received.
Every day, I do my best to remember and give thanks for the gift of life. I do not take my ability to walk for granted or the ability to have a mind that thinks and a meditation practice that cultivates awareness and kindness. I remember, again and again, it’s not all about ME, and as I groan, complaining I ate too much at the Thanksgiving meal, I am glad my body allows me to digest food and I have enough to eat and can share a meal with others. I am also mindful of those who suffer from food insecurity, war, and famine. I give thanks for the plentitude in my life and the love I receive. I feel enriched by the people in my life and their values, even as I am disturbed by the news highlighting the fear, greed, and anger that creates division. I worry about what the future may hold, but I commit myself to finding light in the darkness. I see the good in people but try not to blind myself to potential dangers.
Dr. Robert Eliot, a cardiologist who studied stress wrote, ““Rule No. 1 is, don't sweat the small stuff. Rule No. 2 is, it's all small stuff.”
David and I had an early Thanksgiving with family and had no plans for the actual day. Our neighbors, a young couple with two children, invited us for the actual Thanksgiving dinner., They made us feel very welcome and made a spectacular meal. They kindly sent us home with a care package in a recyclable container. When we got home, feeling satiated and grateful, I placed the container in the refrigerator. David, wanting to be helpful, thought the container wouldn’t keep the food fresh, so he transferred the food into a plastic bag. I had watched Valerie, our hostess, carefully put the leftover stuffing, roasted vegetables, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce and turkey in the container appreciating her generosity and how beautiful it all looked—and watched as David dumped it all out smushing it together! Ick! In the grand scheme, it’s small stuff. He acted quickly and there was nothing I could do about it. Did the warm feeling I was holding last? No. To my credit, I did not express my dismay with anger, but I could not let it go completely—I dreamed about it that night. Now, I write about it…but I can smile. At lunch today I dumped the food out of its ziplock bag and managed to separate the different items. It still tasted good. Thank you.
Acknowledging what we may consider small and still appreciating the larger picture gives perspective and makes a big difference in how we meet the unwanted. My meditation practice has helped me acknowledge what I am feeling and have more choice in my responses.
When I was a child in kindergarten, my teachers would have us recite a short prayer before we received our milk and cookies. It went like this
Thank you, God, for the world so sweet.
Thank you, God, for the food I eat.
Thank you, God, for their birds that sing.
Thank you, God, for everything.
For years I recited this prayer to bolster my spirits and comfort me when I was scared. I grew up in the era after World War II. I felt my parents cared for me, and I never wanted for food or shelter. However, as a sensitive child, I absorbed some of their worries. My parents didn't have much money and lived in a one-bedroom apartment in my father’s parents' house. It was a duplex. They lived on one side and my aunt and cousins, who babysat for me, lived on the other side. Other relatives, who we’d visit, lived up the hill.
I liked school, had friends and felt safe, secure and happy. My mother, however, worried alot and did not like living with her in-laws. When her parents became ill and mentally unable to care for themselves, her brothers decided that it would be a good idea to move my grandparents, my Bubbie and Zaydie (Yiddish for grandma and grandpa) from their home in upstate New York to live with my parents in a house they helped my parents purchase. So, at the age of ten I moved from a small apartment in a house with one set of grandparents, whom I liked, to a larger house on the other side of town, where I knew no one, to live with a set of grandparents I barely knew. This solved my uncle's problems and allowed my Mom to move away from her Mother-in-law, with whom she had a difficult relationship, into her own home with more room for my brother and me. This was supposed to be a good idea but from my 10-year-old perspective it was disastrous. I didn’t know Bubbie and Zaydie well, they spoke only Yiddish which I didn’t understand, and they either had Alzheimers or dementia . It was heartbreaking for my Mother and scary for my little brother and me.
Exhale:
I didn’t know the words for Metta back then—“May I be safe and protected, May I be happy, May I be healthy, May I live with ease.” However, I did remember the prayer I recited over milk and cookies. Whenever I got scared, I’d repeat it to myself, and I found it comforting. As an elder, I now understand how difficult the situation was for my parents to care for them as well as us and experience their demise. I wish I could have expressed more gratitude towards them and said thank you more often for caring for me and teaching me about loyalty, perseverance, and love. They showed me it’s possible to find light in darkness. Thank you.
Let's reflect on gratitude and give thanks for the gifts we have received in our lives, past and present. Thank you for being part of my community. I hope you can join me
Thursday, December 5, 2024 at 11 AM, EST
You are welcome to invite friends, but please have them register on the website.