It’s no wonder that when we think about being grateful, it’s almost always for those things that are truly positive, with very few, if any, negative associations that come along with it. We like to bring up memories that evoke only warm, fuzzy feelings. Like that great vacation in Hawaii, or of our wonderful family (thinking of that day when we were all getting along so well), or perhaps the raise we got at work (just in time for the holidays). These are all good things to be thankful for.
But what about those rather horrible things that happen? Events such as a fire that consumes everything you own or a terrible illness that you manage to survive? Often there can be silver linings if we look deeply, or after enough time has passed, enabling us to view the event from a broader perspective. Sometimes when we are in the thick of things, the best we can do is remember the phrase, “This too shall pass.” Our human condition is multi-layered and complex which can leave us burned out and depressed if we don’t learn how to value some of the downs as well as the ups.
I suppose one of those downs for me has been a lifetime of frequent headaches. I got them as a kid, while a teen, during my middle adult years, and still do to this day. If I checked out every single time I had one, then I would never have accomplished anything—the college degrees, the dance career, raising a family, writing… And believe me, I’ve worked on myself a lot, trying to find possible causes: food, stress, genetics. So, to lessen them as best I can, I try to get bodywork done, meditate, exercise, eat right, spend time in nature, and laugh. I think these things help, but they haven’t been a cure—so I endure.
The other night, after dragging myself out of bed with a throbbing head, self-massaging my neck, brewing a cup of coffee and swallowing some Advil, I settled into the recliner with a heating pad on my shoulder and an ice pack behind my neck. I gazed out the window at the millions of twinkling stars and took slow, deep breaths. My hands wrapped around the warm mug gratefully as I closed my eyes. This is often a time, I realize, that the thought of thankfulness registers in my brain. That, of course, is if it’s not one of those extra nasty ones that make me sick. I remember times like this when I was raising young children, of it being one of the rare instances I took for myself. In the quiet of the night, I could allow my thoughts and dreams to wander and sometimes it felt magical. And for this I was grateful.
Getting up in the middle of the night can be a time when we are able to be alone in the quiet and slow down, allowing ourselves the space to wonder. Without the usual distractions we can go outside and observe the night sky and relish how different our world looks in the relative darkness. Here in the canyon, I get to witness the shining boulders in the moonlight or the constellations, and listen to the songs of the owls and poorwills. Then I smile and remember how grateful I am to be right here, right now.
I’m sure we all sense, at times, the beauty amidst the storm. Whether it be how good we notice feeling after being sick; the unforeseen career we stumble into after all the job rejections; the surprise deliciousness we discover after substituting for a missing ingredient in a favorite recipe… I believe these kinds of experiences are what constitutes the spice of life. The hidden little happies make me truly grateful for this life that I get to live. So, this year, from the Thanksgiving turkey – to the Christmas tree or the Hanukkah menorah – to New Year’s Eve and beyond: Let’s try to focus on the ups in spite of the downs.
Chi Varnado has four recently published books. The Old House in the Country, women’s fiction; and three YA novels in The Dance Centre Presents series. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire, and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail, are also available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.