Monday, October 19, 2015

Five Good Things

Good Things began as an intention... to purposely align my thoughts with my heart, to see the plenty, and recognize even the small things that make life good. I don't think I am a pessimist, but there are days, like Mondays, when there seem to be extra trials, more than the usual number of frustrations, and it bothered me to succumb to the disappointment, to feel the pressure of life's needling, goading annoyances, when there are far more pleasures, many more blessings in each day, things worthy of notice. It's been good... not only do I feel grateful, but I enjoy stating my gratitude, taking particular notice of special moments, small and big.

I have always been in awe of the wonderful things in life... the saves, the bounty, the opportunities and adventures, my dreams coming true... I often say there are still miracles, but we don't always recognize them for what they are. And it has been my nature, my instinct, to be quiet {This must seem very paradoxical for a blogger, I know... but if you could hear all I don't share!} Quiet, when I feel overwhelmed with gratitude, quiet, when I feel overwhelmed with grief, or sympathy. Quiet, when I am scared that too much goodness will invite tragedy, when freely and openly celebrating my happiness will incur some terrible consequence, fate evening out the good with the bad. Quiet, when I think that I am abundantly fortunate and I empathize with those who are in a hard place.

Something I've noticed... sometimes, when I am sad, or scared, when things really do feel like more than I can take, the good things I find are in contrast, or paired, with bad things... which in turn makes me feel ashamed, apologetic, self-censored. {Funny, how when I write things down, and turn them around in my thoughts, they seem less profound, less heavy.} And all of this means... I think it might mean, that I want to continue to state the good things, to resist the urge to go quiet, to stop apologizing in my mind... for speaking, or thinking, or being myself, or even for the times when it feels best to sit quietly, and just let the good, or sad, things stay in my own thoughts. And I am hoping that my first intention for Good Things, to align my thoughts with my heart, can be joined by a second intention: To trust my ideas, my thoughts, to freely express who I am and what I feel, the good, and the bad.

Good Things...

1. Home-cooked food... my own, my friends'. This bowl of faro came from Karen's MNO dinner of the night before. I missed being with my friends, and I had not eaten anything all the next day. Karen brought me this, and in eating it I felt a nourishing relief, like being hugged, and reminded of the love, friendship, support, laughter, understanding, and goodness of friends. In a bowl of faro? Really? Well, yeah, really. She's a really good cook, and a really good friend. And so are Diana, and Anna B. My plate runneth over.

2. Chickens. And eggs. And feathers. And all the messes, and passages, and annoyances, and hassles, and amusements, laughter, and grace that chickens bring.

3. Knowing when to let go. Whether it's a much anticipated adventure, or just a notion of how things should have gone, we cannot always get what we want, or do what we planned. The part of letting go I struggle with is when I am sad about being misunderstood. This morning someone posted this: "The bad news is: You cannot make people like, love, understand, validate, accept, or be nice to you. You can't control them, either. Good news is: It doesn't matter." I understand the first part, the bad news, but it's the second part I struggle with. So often, I want to let go, but it still matters to me.

4. Talking. And listening. When something matters, even when it's hard... it's so helpful to be with someone who will talk and listen.

5. Finding one rose, in a dry, hard, neglected, drought weary garden, so I can say farewell, I loved you.

1 comment:

Jennifer said...

And this is it, exactly. Sorrows and joys. Gratitude and frustration, disappointment. Caring too much sometimes, wanting to care less. The wonderful parts, and the awful ones. It is the journey, the great yin and yang of existence. The realness of life. I always am grateful for your sharing -- delighted to share the good, honored to share (and to try to help soothe) the sad.