Lessons in Gratitude

Today has been a good one for taking it easy and recovering from a long week. I realized how tired I’ve been and know I need to take steps to take better care of myself. I’ve written about that a great deal of late, but being aware of and writing about it is one thing, actually doing something about it is quite another. So today I relaxed a bit, dozing in my room in the late morning, watching television for a couple of hours catching up on shows I’d recorded and watching a little football. Today was a cool, gray, wet day the third such day this week. It rained heavily beginning Wednesday night continuing on through last night, and as I sit here, I can hear it pelting against the side of the house having started up again early this evening. It really was the perfect weather for lazing around. It’s a good thing to have done today, because tomorrow I will engage in my usual assortment of Sunday chores: laundry, grocery shopping, and cleaning.

So here I sit on a Saturday night and it feels very much like a Monday or Thursday or any other weekday. It’s after 9 p.m. and I am sitting on my bed typing my blog and spinning the wheel. The rain is making me sleepy and I am woefully under-inspired to write deeply meaningful words about gratitude this evening. So I am grateful to have over 800 possibilities from which I can share some meaningful words on gratitude. Enjoy this post from March of 2012.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I’ve taken a lot of journeys and a lot of single steps over the course of my life, the last few years in particular. Moving to California nearly seven years ago was one of those steps–a big one. I came here on an invitation and the promise of something wonderful. It was a leap of faith and I took it; and although things didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped, I’m grateful for the experiences I’ve had along the way. Life is so interesting like that–we take a particular fork on a particular path and our lives unfold in a particular way. I could speculate what my life would be like if I hadn’t accepted that invitation and moved a few thousand miles from my home of 13 years. In moments when I’m feeling pressed and stressed from all the drama that occurred last year that has landed my in some pretty challenging circumstances, I have to resist a trip down “if only” lane and think about what life would be like had I stayed in Michigan. Looking back with regret (or forward with dread) is not a useful exercise. I already did what I did or didn’t do what I didn’t do. Time to move on.

One of my Facebook friends posted this quote on her wall the other day, “If you are depressed, you are living in the past. If you are anxious, you are living in the future. If you are at peace, you are living in the present.” I reckon that about sums up a lot of what I’ve been working toward this year, finding myself at peace in and with the present moment. It’s hard to remember that’s all we have anyway. It makes sense to spend more time hanging out and cultivating peace in the present than either living either in the past (with regret) or the future (in fear). I feel at times like I’m still working out my “what’s next” in terms of what I’m going to be doing and where I’m going to be doing it. Somehow in the process of planning for what’s next, I need to keep sight of what’s now, lest I miss it and potentially miss out on something good.

I have a feeling that I will soon be taking another single step on perhaps another thousand mile journey. I hope to do that from as much a place of peace and equanimity as possible. We’ll see how it unfolds. And somehow in the midst of it all I have to remember my gratitude practice and actively engage each day in thanks-giving, in terms of being grateful for the many blessings in my life and in terms of offering thanks to the many beings–human and otherwise–who continue offering love and support to me on my journey. Thanks to all of them and to all of you who read along with me on this journey. I am grateful for you sticking with me.

May we be happy and peaceful. May we be safe and protected from harm. May we be healthy and strong. May we life with joy, ease, and wellbeing. May we love and accept ourselves for exactly who we are. May we experience the arising and passing of all things with equanimity and peace. May we hold our various pains and sorrows with great compassion. Let it be so.

Tonight I am writing in grateful reflection on National Coming Out Day 2013. I am keenly aware that coming out is a process that some of us will go through over and over again. Perhaps this is particularly true to those of us who are only recently out. Two years ago on NCOD 2011 I wrote about my coming out process (Lessons in Gratitude Day 104). It felt a little risky then and remains as much or even perhaps more so now. But often of late, particularly in the past couple of years I have had moments in my life where I have stared into an abyss and realized that I was a lot less afraid of things than I used to be.

In reflecting back over my more recent life, after I suffered a series of losses that while not quite catastrophic were nonetheless painful, I realized that in spite of the pain and grief of loss I was in fact still alive and had a lot of life ahead of me. I realized that when I analyze the challenges I face in my life on a regular basis and put them into perspective there are fewer things now that I fear. So while coming out is always a little bit scary because the consequences of putting oneself out there can be unsettling at best and who knows what at worst, I know I possess the ability to withstand difficult circumstances and come through on the other side, sometimes a bit battered and bruised, but relatively intact. I am grateful to know that I can tap into a deep reservoir of resiliency and bounce back.

And so in honor of National Coming Out Day 2013 I want to offer a letter that I recently wrote (but did not mail to my best friend from college.) It reads as follows:

Today I realized that perhaps you don’t really understand something about me: I am a lesbian and my interest in and love for women isn’t a passing fancy. Case in point:  our conversation today when I told you that I had started dating again (nearly three years after an extremely hurtful breakup that you helped me through) and you said, “Is it a man?” and I replied, “No, it’s not a man. That hasn’t changed.” “Oh,” was your response, and in that single word I realized that somehow you’d been hoping that I’d come to my senses and was seeking my next love interest from among the oh-so-large pool of eligible Black men (which I know would be your choice if you could pick for me.) Your flat, disappointed tone of voice spoke volumes. Note I did not say disapproving, because I didn’t sense disapproval from you. But even your disappointment was painful–surprisingly so. And I realize how tender and vulnerable is that place in my heart that still seeks not simply understanding but true acceptance. I realize that I don’t have that in-your-face, “I’m queer and I’m here” F-you bravado that so many of the young lesbians exhibit these days. I do still care what you think and I want you to be as happy for me as I was for you when you finally found your sweetheart.

So here I am now, nine years after I wrote you and other friends and family on National Coming Out Day 2004, and I am still coming out, or perhaps am doing so again, Perhaps ten years from now you’ll be closer to knowing, accepting, and loving me in my fullness and the shadow of disappointment that you feel today will be gone. Until that day, I will continue to love you as best I can and accept the love that you offer me as best you can. Love is imperfect and incomplete for us all as we walk through this world until as pure Spirit we can love one another fully.

I love you. Your BFF,

I didn’t mail the letter to my friend. I don’t need to really. I don’t think she would understand and it would probably only serve to make her feel bad, which I don’t want to do.  I’m not sure I’m ready to bring it up to her; perhaps one day I will be. Part of the process of navigating any relationship is the give and take, the pieces of myself that I shape and modify or leave outside the door when I enter into conversation with some people. It’s not right to have to fragment oneself into pieces to interact with the world, but sometimes it is only through the breaking apart that one can navigate through this often unfair, messed up  world. And as backwards as it might seem it’s the breaking that allows my light to shine through the cracks. Crazy metaphor, right?

Perhaps one of these days I won’t have to remove and deposit parts of myself outside of various places where I find myself. Someday maybe I can bring my whole self everywhere I go. But that is not today. Not yet. But every day I grow and learn and move a little bit closer to fully becoming myself. And for that I offer sincere gratitude.

It is hard to believe that I moved to Seattle well over a year ago. Time has flown much faster than I anticipated, but doesn’t it always? By the time that I blink, it will be over and I will be walking across the stage to receive my Master’s in Student Development Administration. In that time I have had some struggles in transition, have had to work through personal life circumstances as they arose, beyond my control – but never once have I questioned the decision that I made to come to Seattle for my graduate program.

I often reflect on my graduate school choice as an example where I displayed self-authorship – student development jargon for having made a decision I felt was best regardless of external influences or differing opinions. Prior to visiting and interviewing at a variety of campuses, I had several non-negotiable factors for choosing my program: 1) I wanted to be at a large institution because my undergraduate experience was at a smaller university; 2) I would not pay for my Master’s program; 3) I wanted a well-known program with strong emphasis on research; and 4) the program’s curriculum and makeup must reflect commitment to social justice and diversity. NO exceptions were to be made!

But by the end of a busy month of visiting, interviewing, and decision-making, all but the last “non-negotiable” ended up having no significance in my final choice. I knew that coming to Seattle and Seattle University meant that I would be challenged in new ways (i.e. living in a major city for the first time; rigorous academics; working in a new functional area of residence life), and that I would be surrounded by professionals and faculty committed to my success. I was exactly right. The amount of challenge and support I have received here from professionals, friends, and mentors is exactly what I need to be successful and thrive in my experience. Through choosing my graduate school and going against what may have seemed practical or logical, I gleaned (and affirmed) what was actually important to me: A sense of community and belonging, commitment to social justice and equity, and being challenged in new ways. The prestige and competition did not and do not matter.

I again reflect on this experience because I, once again (and too soon!), find myself entering the preliminary stages of my next step: the job search. The combination of finishing graduate classes, preparing to present (and pass!) portfolio, a demanding graduate assistantship, attempting to have a fulfilling social and love life, and now searching for a full-time job seem quite overwhelming. What is more overwhelming is the fact that I have competing interests and am not sure which direction to go in: Do I continue to serve students within an institutional context or branch out into the greater community? How do I remain in touch with reality when working in a university setting? How will I communicate my skills? What is the positive impact I want to have on my surrounding community? A lot remains unknown.

What I do know is that, whatever and wherever my next step ends up, it will be true to me and the values and integrity and justice that I hold. I do know that it will be somewhere that I can bring forth all of myself without fear of judgment or misunderstanding. And so, although the stress of writing cover letters and reviewing job descriptions does sometimes get to me, I am grateful for my ability to discern what I feel to be the best choice for me. I am grateful that I am not in this process alone, but have colleagues and close friends walking with me. I am grateful to mentors who know me, know what I need, and push me in the right direction.

I trust the process, the signs God gives me, my intuition to lead me in the right direction.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. I am a peacemaker. I always have been, I think. Perhaps it is a middle child thing, perhaps it is somehow a product of my upbringing. Nurture and nature is what I suspect. So I have spent much of my life trying to bring peace, understanding, harmony to places and people where those things are in short supply or missing altogether. As I think back over my life I can see places where I’ve extended myself, sometimes putting myself out on a limb for the sake of creating a meaningful, peaceful connection between people.

One of the big challenges in my life has been to develop the ability to allow things to be unharmonious and out of sync. I am not a big fan of disequilibrium: I’m not much of a fan of “dis” anything (or “dys” for that matter.) So there are times to work hard on bringing peace and there are other times to step back and let things kind of roil around until equilibrium, equanimity, peace happens spontaneously. My mind just digressed briefly into decades old chemistry lessons about osmosis, equilibrium and other physical concepts that neatly describe the emotional/mental concepts that I’m writing about this evening.

And so I find myself contemplating wading into a bit of unsettledness in which some form of peacemaking or bridge building might be required. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, I remind myself as I contemplate not whether or not I will take action on a particular matter but when. The response, I think, is soon. But, that is not this day. I am writing late this evening after what has been a long and tiring day. Tomorrow is likely to be another such day and I confess I am not looking forward to that. But I’ve already determined that I will speak in positive and upbeat terms to myself throughout the day, from the time the radio comes on at 5:15, to my rising at 5:30 and right on through to the time my head hits the pillow tomorrow night sometime after 11:00.

I am grateful for continuing awareness and acceptance of the various roles I play in the world around me: in my family, at work, with my children, etc. I accept and embrace being a peacemaker, a trailblazer, a wayfinder, and so many other interesting, unique, even quirky roles I play in various areas of my life. They are woven into the fabric of my life, the fibers of my being and that’s a good thing. I look forward to seeing how my peacemaking skills fare when I put them to the test in the next week or so. I hope when I wade in that afterward I shall be called a child of god. One can hope.

Tonight I was hit by an unexpected little burst of grief. They happen from time to time, but this one seemed to hit out of nowhere, while I was minding my own business. I found myself missing my father, which is somewhat unusual in and of itself. I didn’t have a close relationship with my dad; it was always a bit uneasy, never fully comfortable. So to be missing him was unusual and I can’t exactly explain why. Perhaps in a little while I will allow myself some quiet time to allow myself to fully feel what I am feeling and perhaps come to a place of understanding the why of it. For now I can be patient with myself and give myself the space to take it all in.

I am grateful this evening for the process of letting go. Every time I experience one of these little grief bursts I realize that I am letting go, releasing a little more of the pain of the loss. It doesn’t necessarily get easy, it simply gets easier. I found myself riffling back through some boxes in my guest room closet looking for pictures from my wedding nearly 27 years ago. I realized that it is one of the few pictures I knew I had in my possession that showed me in a picture with my father. I had previously scoured all the expected places in my rooms looking for my wedding photos because I was seeking a particular picture of me with my sister Michaele (I also have very few pictures of me with her), but could not find it. Tonight, I seemed to know exactly where to go to find them, and there they were.

Going through the photographs to find the one I was looking for was itself a release of sorts. Looking through the photos (which never made it into a book, to what would have been my mother’s chagrin had she known) I saw a young version of myself I barely recognize now surrounded by equally young-looking sisters. I looked through all of them, allowing my heart to take in all of the emotion of walking back through those memories once beautiful then painful and now touching in a completely different way. I found myself once again being grateful that I hadn’t thrown away the photos as I’d been tempted to right after the divorce. I can look on them now as a deeply important time in my life; one that represented so many things to me at that time and remains significant even now. I can look at them with gratitude for the friendship that I now have with my ex-husband, from whom I have now been divorced more years than we were married, knowing that the purpose for our time together was to bring two really great beings into the world in the form of our children.

Life is so interesting. Tonight I was feeling the grief of the loss of my parents and in seeking to release a little of that pain, I search for a picture that allows me to release yet a little more. And in that search I find, once again, so many things for which I am grateful. And I smile. I’ll close with a chorus from a song I wrote called, “Letting Go.”

People come in our lives and for a while they stay.

But they’re not ours to keep

We let them go, we give them away.

So we gotta make the best we can of each and every day.
‘Cause all too soon we know

We’ll face another time of letting go.

© M. T. Chamblee, 1996

So grateful it is Friday and to be writing at the end of a good day, and a long but mostly good week. This past week I’ve been challenged in many ways and yet I am also celebrating an anniversary of my arrival in the greater DC metropolitan area. It’s been quite a year, filled with good times and challenges, tears and laughter. I suppose it has been a year of life in all of its lovely complexity. I spent a great deal of time riding on Mephistopheles the mechanical bull–my metaphor for the often wild rides life would take me on, whipping this way and that and up and down sending me sailing through the air to land in the sawdust only to get shakily to my feet, dust myself off and throw myself back onto the machine. One thing I can say about the last year: it has been anything but dull.

I used to say that I would like to try dull for a while, but the truth is that dull sounds boring. I know, that sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it. The sentiment is, of course, that after too many wild rides on Mephisto that a little calm dullness would be welcome–a calm in the storm kind of thing. Still, I’ve learned and grown a great deal in the midst of the swirl and storm, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. One could ask, “Isn’t it possible to learn as much during calm times as it is during tumultuous ones?” I suppose the answer, of course you can, but I wonder if the learning is as deep. It’s kind of like lifting hand weights that I keep in my bathroom. I could build muscle mass by lifting the five pound weights over and over again over weeks and months until they got ridiculously easy or I could progress to the heavier 10 pound weights and build muscle faster lifting the heavier weights over a shorter period of time. Someone who lifts weights regularly or who studies the physics of weight or the biology of muscle building would probably say my metaphor is illogical or scientifically inaccurate, but you get the point: you get stronger, build more muscle lifting the heavier weight over time. It’s more taxing and also more rewarding.

This week my coworkers have been very solicitous and appreciative. I continue to be grateful for the terrific cast of characters I work with. At times when life at work has been challenging, being able to see the potential in each person as well as the synergistic potential that’s present when we’re all working together makes every thing feel totally worthwhile. We have a lot of work ahead of us and my calendar is filling with a variety of work and meetings and my to-do list is growing. In spite of that I am excited to see where this is all taking us and grateful to be part of it all. There was a time not too long ago when I wasn’t exactly sure what I was meant to be doing; and there are still times when I question whether or not I’m living out my life purpose. But on this day, at this time, in this moment, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. And for that I am most exceedingly grateful.