Gratitude sweeps through

The poet Kahlil Gibran has a beautiful poem called, "On Joy and Sorrow." This excerpt speaks to the complexity of feeling and how we cannot truly separate our emotional experiences as one thing.

"Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed."

This is a powerful sentiment. This time has evoked great sorrow in the human collective. Has this time evoked greater understanding in our shared experience? In how our lives differ? In how we must support one another? There is gratitude in unearthing deep truths about our society, no matter how uncomfortable they may be. We can only heal what comes to the surface, not what remains hidden. This perspective also reverberates for how we understand and unlock our individual truths, and how we can heal ourselves, and our communities, with gratitude.

I am grateful for many facets of my life everyday. For the simple act of waking, for the community that surrounds me. That I have had a job during this turbulent time. I try to write gratitude lists often. I write about my most favorite things so on dreary days, I can read through them and feel the iciness inside me melt.

I am grateful for writing, and for poetry. I am grateful for gratitude lists. I am grateful for the way the sun hits the house plant and that I have the eyes to see it. I am thankful the Earth is still allowing us to live here and that there are an infinite number of amazing landscapes, plants and animals that call Earth home.

I am grateful for any phase of the sky, and that no matter how many days I have been on this Earth there has not been one moment where I have been bored of this display. Lately, at nighttime the way the snow reflects onto the sky, it lightens it and creates a blue that I do not know how to properly describe, so I will just call it beautiful.

I am grateful for the late night conversations that evoke truths the daylight just cannot. Words that are normally withheld seem to flow while the moon lights the room, and I am thankful that I have pals whom I love so dearly; who offer a gentle listening ear, who accept and love me as I am.

I am grateful for the kindness of strangers. For the people who share snippets of their life, and then they go on. Perhaps we will never meet eyes again. I am thankful for this connection, that during this time people are still trying find some place that feels like home within each other.

I am grateful for my home, for my kitchen. I am thankful for food security. I love to cook. I have been making delicious meals lately, and I have to say, it has brightened up my week significantly to nourish myself in such a way. I am grateful I have people I love to cook for. To watch their faces light up as their taste buds do what they were designed to do. I am grateful for taste buds.

I am grateful for this body right here. As a dear friend once said, "I am grateful for my skin, for keeping everything in." Seems simple, but on days where I would like to shame my frame, it is very helpful to think of how amazing my body is for doing its regular functions.

My brain is programmed to see what I should be grateful for. It sounds ideal, but it does not allow for the full, textured human experience to shine through, at times. My mind says, do not complain in your life of privilege. In these moments, gratitude becomes stale, becomes a chore.

The truth is, any time we force ourselves into a feeling, it feels unnatural to sustain it. It feels challenging.

When I am having a tough day, it is hard to be reminded of the beauty. Of the simple miracle of being alive.

However, I am grateful for the temporary nature of life. I am grateful that the difficult days pass, and that laughter seems to somehow always return when I least expect it to.

I am grateful the body has created a mechanism called laughter that is unique and relieving for us humans. I am grateful for the sound of it, how I smile when I hear laughter around me at any time.

I am grateful for sound. For music. For the pitch of a small child's voice, that rings out innocence and awe into a space.

I am grateful my sister-in-law is pregnant and healthy. I am thankful for the healing work my family is doing, especially my siblings, as we journey to a more harmonious state together.

I am grateful to understand my own traumas better, so I can relate to myself and other people with greater compassion.

I am grateful for creativity. For endless books and films and albums and ideas that circle around this globe, while we serendipitously get to interact with whatever ends up brushing against our consciousness.

Somehow, I stumble into gratitude. I let it sweep me up. I let it brace my falls. I write about it, sing ab0ut it, smile about it. It gives me buoyancy in the unpredictable nature of life. I wrote this short poem about my good pal gratitude:

Ultimately, the gratitude stretches over everything. To be able to experience life in all of its phases and states is exciting. It is incredibly wild to be a living being, in and of itself. The fact that anything is what it is, or that we are breathing through this existence, evokes a deep thankfulness into every one of my cells.