2016 January 1
I found myself, shortly after midnight on New Years Day, at the drugstore buying dog food - whereupon I spent the next 45 minutes or so feeding and petting three very excited dogs (2 of whom were rather large). Then, later on New Year’s morning, I woke up to the sound of a cat vomiting up a hairball on my fresh sheets, right next to my head.
So ended 2015 and began 2016.
Yet, as I went for my New Year’s run I realized how very much these circumstances were reminders of the goodness in my world; for the dogs belonged to friends who have been incredibly kind to me, a midnight emergency feeding of their pets a simple matter (and there are worse ways to start the year than petting 3 very grateful dogs). The fact that the cat vomited on the bed next to me meant that this cat, who has been so very nervous and shy, had finally, with a slow building of trust, taken his place on the bed with me and the other kitties. This small step meant a lot, vomit and all.
You see, sometimes, when we shift our perspective, we can enable ourselves to see both the blue dress and the white dress (in case you don’t get that - http://www.nytimes.com/…/28/science/white-or-blue-dress.html).
Gratitude can be an overdone pop psych movement, and anyone who knows me would tell you I am not a fairytales and unicorns (no offense Gena, I like unicorns) sort of person but it’s easy for our amygdala based cognition to miss some of the joy and get snarled up in the grey wooliness of life. Certainly we need to reset our perspective more than once a year but New Year’s reflections are a good way to set the pace. It doesn’t eliminate the struggles, but it does provide some buoys to keep one afloat.
At any given moment I would not have voted 2015 a year of abundance, and yet, as I ran - or rather lumbered - over the familiar woodland path at Haverford I found that, by stepping back away from the grey background of the year, the moments of beauty and wonder stood out.
During the holiday season I was profoundly moved by 2 extreme and unexpected acts of kindness. They literally brought me to tears. However, throughout the year there were others, some material, some ‘spiritual’, some a burst of laughter, some a shared moment of silence, some just an ‘I love you’ - each one a gift.
I am amazingly fortunate in the good people who have come into my life. Every year I think about this and every year I am awestruck by how wonderful people have been to me. It just reminds me that kindness and caring can make a difference and encourages me to be a kinder and more caring person towards others. Thank-you to all of you who have reminded me of this.
I am grateful too for all the beauty that I have been privileged to see - whether it be art produced by friends, family or in a museum, the joy of music and of course the theater - where stories are shared, told, lived and born. Sometimes there is this utter stillness in me when these things touch me and I think ‘yes, that’s just right’. Art like this is always a connection of the human spirit.
I also thankful for those delightful moments in nature when my breath is taken away; by a ghostly beam of light in the forest, the fine filigree of a leaf’s veins, the plump juicy red and purple of berries or the fractals in ice puddles - my walks in Chanticleer, at Haverford and around the town are a feast for my eyes and my spirit, throughout the year. They are food for my soul.
And again - as with my Christmas run - I was most fortunate that my knees let me run the path and that I was able to breathe deeply of the crisp January air. After 30 odd years of running this joy never fades for me.
My mother, at 89, still beats me at Scrabble - and it’s one of the few times in life when losing really does make me feel good. She is quite something, my mom - still painting, still the pillar of support for so many others, still reading and living deeply. She sets quite an example for life - and my love for her grows richer with time.
Good family all around - don't get to spend as much time with them as I'd like but good folks. And it matters that they are there.
I found myself, shortly after midnight on New Years Day, at the drugstore buying dog food - whereupon I spent the next 45 minutes or so feeding and petting three very excited dogs (2 of whom were rather large). Then, later on New Year’s morning, I woke up to the sound of a cat vomiting up a hairball on my fresh sheets, right next to my head.
So ended 2015 and began 2016.
Yet, as I went for my New Year’s run I realized how very much these circumstances were reminders of the goodness in my world; for the dogs belonged to friends who have been incredibly kind to me, a midnight emergency feeding of their pets a simple matter (and there are worse ways to start the year than petting 3 very grateful dogs). The fact that the cat vomited on the bed next to me meant that this cat, who has been so very nervous and shy, had finally, with a slow building of trust, taken his place on the bed with me and the other kitties. This small step meant a lot, vomit and all.
You see, sometimes, when we shift our perspective, we can enable ourselves to see both the blue dress and the white dress (in case you don’t get that - http://www.nytimes.com/…/28/science/white-or-blue-dress.html).
Gratitude can be an overdone pop psych movement, and anyone who knows me would tell you I am not a fairytales and unicorns (no offense Gena, I like unicorns) sort of person but it’s easy for our amygdala based cognition to miss some of the joy and get snarled up in the grey wooliness of life. Certainly we need to reset our perspective more than once a year but New Year’s reflections are a good way to set the pace. It doesn’t eliminate the struggles, but it does provide some buoys to keep one afloat.
At any given moment I would not have voted 2015 a year of abundance, and yet, as I ran - or rather lumbered - over the familiar woodland path at Haverford I found that, by stepping back away from the grey background of the year, the moments of beauty and wonder stood out.
During the holiday season I was profoundly moved by 2 extreme and unexpected acts of kindness. They literally brought me to tears. However, throughout the year there were others, some material, some ‘spiritual’, some a burst of laughter, some a shared moment of silence, some just an ‘I love you’ - each one a gift.
I am amazingly fortunate in the good people who have come into my life. Every year I think about this and every year I am awestruck by how wonderful people have been to me. It just reminds me that kindness and caring can make a difference and encourages me to be a kinder and more caring person towards others. Thank-you to all of you who have reminded me of this.
I am grateful too for all the beauty that I have been privileged to see - whether it be art produced by friends, family or in a museum, the joy of music and of course the theater - where stories are shared, told, lived and born. Sometimes there is this utter stillness in me when these things touch me and I think ‘yes, that’s just right’. Art like this is always a connection of the human spirit.
I also thankful for those delightful moments in nature when my breath is taken away; by a ghostly beam of light in the forest, the fine filigree of a leaf’s veins, the plump juicy red and purple of berries or the fractals in ice puddles - my walks in Chanticleer, at Haverford and around the town are a feast for my eyes and my spirit, throughout the year. They are food for my soul.
And again - as with my Christmas run - I was most fortunate that my knees let me run the path and that I was able to breathe deeply of the crisp January air. After 30 odd years of running this joy never fades for me.
My mother, at 89, still beats me at Scrabble - and it’s one of the few times in life when losing really does make me feel good. She is quite something, my mom - still painting, still the pillar of support for so many others, still reading and living deeply. She sets quite an example for life - and my love for her grows richer with time.
Good family all around - don't get to spend as much time with them as I'd like but good folks. And it matters that they are there.
And of course there are the kitties, the Bun, the Bear, and the Buf - just thinking of them makes me smile.
But, most of all, this year I have been moved even beyond gratitude for my daughter. She has taken a difficult and horrific event and reclaimed it, restored her voice and her power and done so with her humanity still intact. She has shown me what it means to be courageous, to be truly fierce and strong - and it has nothing to do with guns or violence or hate. She has held on fiercely to her spirit, to her amazing talents, to her belief that goodness is a powerful force, and she has used all of this to bring more light into this world, to reach out and help others. To turn suffering into healing is one of the greatest acts a human can do. Victoria, you are my north star, always. I am so so so grateful for the day you came into my life and every minute since then. Thank you for being you. I love you beyond words.
2015 - yup, you had your moments.
2016 - you’d better watch out, cause we’re gonna kick some serious טאָכעס
Happy New Year.
Metta,
Madelaine 2016
