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.

            Fall has arrived! Crisp, clear days and cool, mild nights. Visually, everything appears so vivid this time of year with less moisture and hovering dust in the air to blur the sharp contrast of edges. Our skin may cry out for hydration, but there is the reward of amazingly distinct images in nature. Yesterday morning as I ran through the canyon a buck with a huge rack and a petite doe moved away into the brush, but paused to look back. Rutting season, I pondered, and picked up my gait again.

            Each season brings change and a new opportunity to alter the lens we look through. The cooler temperatures bring death to deciduous leaves and a striking shift in colors. And then they fall off the trees, dead. The ensuing compost and soil this creates occurs during ‘the dead’ of winter so by spring the world appears new again and full of possibilities. What a beautiful, natural cycle. But if we only see a portion of this circle of life, and fail to allow ourselves to keep seeing and trying to understand, then we miss out on the richness of the whole. It feels to me like this is akin to what is happening all around the world right now, and even in our communities and families.

            Perhaps I’m missing something, and indeed I am. My heart sinks every time someone in conversation chimes in with phrases like, “You always…” or “I’ll never…” Immediately the discussion is no longer a conversation, but a diatribe of one’s opinion without taking the other’s feelings, or new ideas, into consideration. I miss heart-to-heart conversations where both individuals are honestly and openly interested in what the other has to say, without forging ahead with assumptions and putting up a wall because that other person feels and believes differently. How can we ever be productive in moving forward peacefully if we can’t try to meet on some common ground? I really hope this is possible. If both sides are waiting for the other side to do it first then it seems like we’re in a losing battle.

            There are too many shades of gray to lump everyone into either this group or that group. These labels, at least in my humble opinion, have to FALL to start with. I love connecting with individuals from all sides and finding our common ground in order to work together through our differences. I’ve had it with the arguing and the spewing of anger that is rampant on all fronts. Why not instead, strip things down to what we humans have in common? The rest is just beliefs and opinions. Let’s create togetherness.

            As winter approaches, and nature seems to stop or slow down, let’s not get stuck where each of us is right now. Everything evolves and changes, and new information which might alter our perceptions often comes along. I hope to be open to it so I can grow and make allowances for shifts in my perspective. With luck and serious diligence, I’d like to never say “never”— and to have open and cordial conversations with each of you. I’ll see you around, my friend.

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.

          Black holes, baited traps, charisma… they all suck us in—hook, line and sinker. But it usually happens before we even realize what’s going on. And by then it’s too late. We’ve already swallowed the Kool-Aid and then continue to only ingest that which is now familiar—and therefore true. Our inquiring mind takes in a narrowing field of reference.

          This morning I went to check the mouse snap trap which I set periodically to attempt to keep the critters at bay. But I couldn’t find it! This was a quandary. I do sometimes go into a room and then not be able to remember why, so there was that to consider. I searched the other logical places to no avail. Upon closer inspection my eyes locked onto a trail of tiny mouse droppings. Perplexed, but determined, I pulled out the refrigerator part way and there it was—upside down with mouse attached.

          With Now mind you, I’m not proud of this activity, but I justify it to myself because of this being our living space. I tried live traps without much luck. Our property is overrun with squirrels, as well, however I can’t seem to bring the hammer down on them, and neither can my husband.

          This is kind of a confession on my part. When I un-sprang the trap to drop the mouse under a bush, its leg twitched slightly. Of course, I felt terrible. After a useless apology to the rodent’s spirit, I sadly went back inside to reset the trap. Some might see me as just another “bleeding heart,” or may firmly believe that these actions are necessary and our right. But things are usually not completely one way or another. We can often get in trouble by getting sucked into either/or thinking.

          In every area of study or profession it’s generally beneficial to glean ideas from other fields, not only access what’s said and done in our own realm of expertise or experience. Whether or not something directly relates to the topic at hand, it might provide some unexpected insight. Artists, writers, choreographers, teachers… take fodder from everything that crosses their path.

          Perhaps this is why integrative medicine has become so popular. Each medical discipline brings its own expertise, but often a patient’s symptoms don’t fit within one category. With our medical system becoming more and more fragmented, it’s easy to see why one would want to be seen as a whole person, not just a sum of their symptoms.

          And then there’s education. Would you prefer your child to be taught by a person or by a method? I’d pick a person. Integrative research and teaching are essential for the growth toward our full potential. I think we must continuously question our convictions (about literally everything) since new information, insights, and alternative ways of looking at things are constantly coming forward.

          So, what do you say—is it time to unspring those traps that control our views? It may not be fun, but who knows? It just might be.

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. You can follow her on Instagram or on www.Facebook.com/dancecentrepresents.