giving thanks.

with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
… we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
smiling by the windows looking out
in our directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

-W. S. Merwin

I write a thank you note every morning. I have for 3 years now.

It has changed my life to look at the world in a constant state of thankfulness. I even look at moments of sadness and anger and loss and Asperger’s and cancer and yes, depression – those moments that bring a simple “wow” to my lips – with a sense of deep thankfulness for what that moment is bringing me. It is a revolutionary act. This beautiful interview with Susan Piver about gratitude, giving, and community represents my learning in this year of challenges. I have learned to receive as well as give in this year. That video interview with Susan gave me the opportunity to learn that. It was a searching, as most of this year has been.

For me, thankfulness is a daily practice. I’m letting Thanksgiving serve as its mascot, but not its replacement.

Let us read this poem aloud and sit with it this fine day. I’m starting my Thanksgiving with a walk and then a gathering at a friend’s house. Then I’ll come home and attempt to make cashew-stuffed Portabello mushrooms without the cashews I forgot to buy. And then I will remember how very much I love cranberry sauce. And then I will remember that imperfections make us real and complex and fully human, and that we can choose the story we tell with our lives, which means we can reject the stories others try to impose on us.

With thanks for you, always. You are treasures.

Love,