Gratitude

Walking today through the golden scuffling leaves on the ground and the tearful skies overhead I had to stop over the BU bridge and watch as a throng of birds swooped and flew low, altogether, in unison, black against the blue-gray sky. I was late for class but I still couldn't help myself. They joined together and dove low then swirled up, and then slashed down again, a timeless pattern. Other people kept walking by and I would try to catch their eyes and gesture up--it was so beautiful--but they kept going, lost in their ipods, ignoring the sky and the water and the birds all joined in wild harmony.

Moments like this--moments too when I look at my friend skillfully and artfully assembling a salad, the beets raw and bright against the chevre, the carrots orange and the lettuce so very green--or when a solitary fire-red Maple leaf comes to pause as if posturing like a dancer on a stage, fluttering to the pavement with the others reposing there--I feel suffused with a recognition that this is it. This is my life. I am 40 years old, and so is my cousin Sarah. (It was her birthday yesterday; I have adored her for half of my life.) Half my life is over; these moments are it. It doesn't get any better than this. I don't mean this in a groovy, mealy-mouthed mindfulness way. I sometimes feel as though I get very preachy on those points, as if I have some special knowledge, and I don't mean to do that. It is just that awareness floods up at the strangest times. You all know those times yourself. It happened again today when the tea kettle shrilled and I poured myself hot water over a tea bag. And the tea bag sort of sizzled as the water went over it. And I thought, "G-d, thank you!"--in the deepest and most primal way. Those alive moments. I don't know why they happen when they do.

I was walking from the library this morning and was sort of muttering in my mind--as I continually do--about all the things I have to get done. So many things. And I was adding job search to that list. And mentally bemoaning that I will be making so little money and facing so much stress for at least the short run--and that's if I'm lucky enough in this economy to find a job. And will I be able to pay off my loans? Etcetera.

As I walked along and noticed this, I decided to direct my attention to my feet. And as soon as I did, as I felt the pavement and slowed my walking I realized: Next year is still going to be busy and stressful. It is always going to be busy and stressful. Hey, kiddo. It doesn't get any better than this.

Just thinking that, it felt as though everything changed. I was still walking, still feeling my feet against their sneakers on the pavement. Still noticing the sneakers squeaking as they have ever since they went through the wash. Still feeling that tired little ache in my heels. Still feeling some sadness and fear and resentment that life isn't different than it is. But everything was different. My whole chest and body opened up--tingly--and I felt so grateful for all the goodness in my life. The people I love, who have done so much for me. My parents. My papaya. Andi and the roommates. My brother and sister in law. Ari and all the children I adore. I am so lucky. I want you to know I do know it. Thank G-d, I really do.