Lessons in Gratitude

Yikes. Sometimes words fail me, which as a reader of this blog you probably already know. I’m in the midst of one of those times that I can only describe using the line from the James Taylor song that says, “Everybody got some days that they can’t explain.” I have been a bit of a funk off and on for the past few weeks. Fortunately, it has been more off than on and I have managed to laugh and smile interspersed with the gritting my teeth and growling and the occasional balling.

As I contemplated what I wanted to write about tonight, I had a sign. First, I found myself wondering if I should stop writing this blog after I hit day 700, which is just around the corner. Then as I was thinking about that, I spun the RNG (random number generator) wheel to see what came up and the number 300 showed up–a nice round number, as is 700. Third, I just mentioned “occasional balling” as one of the manifestations of the funk I’ve been in of late, balling in this context referring to the shedding of tears. These three threads wove themselves together to give me the theme for tonight’s blog, and here it is: tonight, as I was in May 2012, I am grateful for tears.

This has been an emotionally tiring week and I must confess that I’ve had the old crying towel out a few times and given it a good soaking. This is no longer embarrassing to me as it once was. When difficult things happen,I deal with them as best I can and sometimes, before, during, and after the situation, I break down and cry.

Even as I think about this, I smile a bit as a story comes to mind. A number of years ago, I was a struggling single working mother of two, trying to remain sane while keeping a roof over our heads and help my kids have as “normal” a life as possible. I was under a lot of stress both at work and at home as both my kids and I grappled with the aftermath of my divorce from their father. One Sunday afternoon I was doing laundry when suddenly the washing machine stopped working,mid cycle. It took me a little while to realize that the washing machine wasn’t broken,but that in fact the electricity was out in the whole house. Grabbing a flashlight so I could peer into the electrical box I couldn’t really see anything–mostly because I didn’t know what I was looking for. Finally I realized I was going to have to call an electrician…on a SUNDAY. Suddenly, I lost it. I started stomping around the house, swearing and fussing about how I couldn’t get a break and why things always broke on Sundays instead of during the week when it was easier and cheaper to get a repair person out. I probably ranted for about 10 minutes, at the end of which, of course, the electricity was still out. I would still have to deal with the issue no matter how unfair it was, how much it “sucked,” etc. No amount of cursing and storming would get the power back on. So I pulled out the phone book, called an electrician, and dealt with the situation at hand.

I don’t remember crying through this incident, though perhaps I cried in frustration right after it happened. But it was one of those valuable lessons, those important steps one takes when establishing or reestablishing one’s independence: sometimes you have to take a deep breath and do what needs to be done because there’s no one else there who’s going to do it for you. It’s alright to cry, rant, throw a tantrum, etc. In fact to do so seems quite a reasonable reaction depending on the nature and degree of the upheaval and tumult. Certainly over the course of the last year there are things I would love to hand over for someone else to take care of; but when I looked around, the only person there was me. So, I did it.

No, I am not ashamed or embarrassed by my tears any more. And I’m getting much better at letting other people into my distress, rather than suffering alone. Most recently, one of my older sisters held my hand across cyberspace as I melted down about a series of trying circumstances that seemed to pile on to my already overloaded emotional plate. She handed me virtual tissues, offered comfort, and took swift action to provide some much-needed assistance. Today as I thought about her kindess, I wept again, only this time it was from a place of deep gratitude for siblings who love me and are “there” for me, even if it’s virtual. I am grateful to have loving, caring family and friends who comfort and support me through the rough patches. I look forward to the time, may it be soon, when I can begin to return the favor. Until then, I will likely cry a bit more. But in the scheme of things,that’s alright.

There was a time when I was reluctant to cry: in front of people I was worried I’d look foolish and would be embarrassed, by myself I worried that I would get stuck in a depressed pity party and wouldn’t be able to break out of it. Now of course I know that neither is really true, though I still don’t like to cry in front of others. There something about that feels a little more vulnerable than I’m ready to be. Still, tears remain an important part of my ongoing healing, providing a cleansing salve to my sometimes troubled heart. So for those cleansing, healing properties I am particularly grateful.

I am grateful this evening for the treasure trove of gratitude that I have amassed over these 600-plus days of writing. On nights like this when I’ve been working on other things and then on the phone for an hour with my best friend it’s good to have something to fall back on that I can share with my readers. And so I spun the wheel and landed on a pretty good post from March 2012 that I offer here for your consideration. As I re-read it I am inspired anew as I consider my life circumstances in this moment.

I am grateful for optimism. I hadn’t really considered myself much of an optimist. Though by no means have I ever considered myself a cynic, I placed myself somewhere around realist pragmatist tending a little toward pessimism. But oddly it has been through the hard times of the past 12 to 15 months that I have found an almost ridiculous sense of optimism. My new motto has become, “We’ll figure it out.” It usually has to do with something that’s going to require financial means that at that moment I’m not quite sure we have or where we’re going to get it. It used to be my way of stalling because I really had no idea how we were going to do whatever it was that needed to be done. But that simple statement of faith has tended to become reality. We have figured it out on many occasions. Many days it hasn’t been pretty, but it’s been present,and that’s all that matters.

This is not magical thinking. Every time I’ve said, “We’ll figure it out”we did just that; thinking through/taking action on ideas and strategies to do whatever “it” was that needed to be worked/figured out. Put more plainly, we didn’t wait around for something to happen, we figured it out. If that meant asking someone for help, I asked. If it meant figuring out a different way of doing something or deciding what we could do without to help us save what we needed, we did that.  So “we’ll figure it out” has become a sort of optimistic self-fulfilling prophecy. It’s definitely something I plan to keep working on.

Neuroscientists believe that we can actually “sculpt”our brains; that when we put our minds toward thinking a certain way we can alter our brains and all kinds of things around us. (I have to do much more reading on this so I sound a bit more articulate about it than I am right now.) A group of neuroscientists have spent time studying spiritual leaders like the Dalai Lama and others and are learning that people who spend time in meditation particularly those cultivating compassion toward others activate certain centers in the brain that bring about a lasting sense of wellbeing. I am all for sculpting my brain by being mindful and intentional about the things I am putting my mental and emotional energy toward. Rather than expending it in anxious fretting about what were going to do or how we’re going to get out of a difficult situation, etc. I can choose to say with a sense of hope and optimism, backed by appropriate action (“right effort”) “we’ll figure it out” and expect that’s exactly what’s going to happen. So far it seems to be working.

I said the other day that practicing gratitude is like lifting weights–as we get stronger we add heavier weights and get stronger (and more sculpted). Likewise cultivating optimism, generosity, compassion, joy, equanimity, and other attributes require exercise. Much of this begins with the intentions we hold. When I intend to be more grateful, optimistic, generous, compassionate, joyous, equanimous, etc. and take steps that move me in those directions, I can’t help but strengthen myself in those areas. I am slowwwwwlllllyyyy moving toward a place of deepening this understanding and just barely scratching the surface of cultivating a meditation practice that will take me where I want to go. For now I am very much in the “figure it out stage” in this and so many other areas of my life. What I am learning very clearly is that panicking is a waste of energy and time. Saying to myself, even when I barely believed it, “this is going to work out” has happened almost every time. And when what I wanted didn’t work out in the way I had originally wanted it to, it sometimes turned out better than I’d planned.

If you’d have told me I’d be at a place where almost every day is an adventure or a mystery waiting to unfold rather than a systematic,organized,I-know-what’s-going-to-happen-next phenomenon, I’d have said you were crazy, that I didn’t know how to live spontaneously and carefree particularly around important matters like relationships, employment, and finances. But I am learning a lot about planning without being attached to the plans or the outcomes, that it is alright to not know what’s going to happen or what needs to happen next. Because when things don’t go exactly as planned or something unexpected comes up that throws everything up in the air, I’m learning to say, “That’s okay,we’ll figure it out.”

There are a lot of things happening in my life right now–in June of 2013–that require me to figure things out. I am grateful to be reminded that approaching them from a place of faith and optimism will help me gain the clarity and insights I need to keep moving in positive directions. May that continue to be so now and for the foreseeable future (which in my case is the next moment!)

I have a lot of hope for the future of our planet…at least the little corner of it that I have inhabited for the past several days. I am at the end of my last full day in New Orleans, where I’ve alternated between optimism and skeptical pessimism, between frustrated despair and tentative hopefulness. But this evening I am feeling optimistic largely because I’ve spent a few hours with two separate groups of young people.

First, I connected with some young graduate students: Cobretti (who wanted me to be sure to give him a shout out in this blog) and Victoria–both of whom are in graduate school in Seattle with my daughter. The intensity of their passions for making higher education better, more accessible to all different kinds of students as well as accountable for becoming the types of institutions that serve all people was very refreshing, particularly for older folks like me who’ve worked in higher education for decades and have lost a bit (perhaps quite a bit) of that enthusiastic idealism. Watching and listening to them, responding to their questions, hearing their plans and hopes for their futures in higher education gave me great hope that they will indeed make a difference in the world.

Then this afternoon I spent several hours with my niece Lauren and her two friends Lindsey and Margia. The three of them had come to New Orleans for a friend’s wedding this weekend and had been hanging out in the city. I wasn’t at all certain I was up to hanging out and “window shopping” with three energetic young thirty-somethings…after all, for the past couple of days I have been a cranky old fifty-something. Nonetheless I decided not to be a total stick-in-the-mud, and I walked the half mile or so up to their hotel. As a fairly non-intrepid, introvert, I was impressed with myself as I trekked up there and met Lauren and her two friends, setting off via trolley car to the garden district where supposedly there were fabulous houses to look at and shopping to be had.

It turned out to be quite refreshing and fun spending time with these young women. Despite the fact that it was hot and humid and we got caught in a brief deluge (from which it took me hours to dry out) we had a wonderful time. The nature and quality of conversation was different with these young people than it had been with my daughter’s graduate school friends. These women were all young lawyers in the very early stages of their careers. Their idealism had been somewhat tempered compared with Cobretti’s and Victoria’s, more real-world life and experiences. But what impressed me about all of these younger folks was their level of awareness and depth of understanding of some of the social justice issues that plague contemporary society. When I was their age there was much, much less awareness of inequity, of racism and other “isms,” and of general concepts of equity, fairness, cultural fluency, etc. These were things that mostly only those of us working in these areas “back in the day” were aware of. These days, these concepts are much more widely known in circles of younger folks–the twenty- and thirty-somethings I’ve spent time with over the past few days.

I am not so naive to believe that a vast majority of young folks are “culturally competent;” there are still way too many people–young and old–who are unaware of their own privilege and the unearned advantages they have over other people. But I find that I am much more hopeful today than I have been in a little while. Now I think I can begin to turn over this work and the tools of my trade to this up-and-coming generation and know that I am leaving it in good hands. While I’m not quite ready to turn things completely over to them just yet, I do feel good that the next generation is getting ready to take on the work of providing equitable access to some of the basic things we can all too easily take for granted. I am grateful and proud to know some really terrific young folks!

Today has been a long day and I am exhausted. It’s a different kind of exhaustion than usual–instead of my usual work day and post workday commute, I spent today in intense conversation as part of a daylong conference session I co-led with a team of women from around the country. Having deep discussions around challenging issues on racial and social justice can be extremely tiring, particularly on limited sleep. I was up late last night preparing some opening remarks that each presenter was asked to make. So I spent some time reading, thinking and writing before finally turning out the light after midnight.

The work of trying to make the world a better, more loving, and accepting place in which all individuals feel respected, welcomed, value for who they are and what they bring to the table can be very difficult. We had about 60 participants in our day-long session: women who have seen and experienced firsthand the challenges that nonwhite people often face in the workplace as well as in their personal lives. We had good but fairly intense conversations about how to be in relationship with women from different racial/ethnic background and how to do the work for racial and social justice across the country. The conversations weren’t easy, but important.

I can’t always say that I’m grateful for the work that I do. I am grateful to be working, that’s for sure, but I am also aware of how taxing it can be to swim against the current doing work that can be undervalued and sometimes actively undermined. In spite of the issues and obstacles I know I am doing work that I have been–at least for the moment–called to do. Working toward making the world more just and equitable continues a family legacy that both of my parents worked toward in their unique ways. Others in my family fought against injustice in various forms; for some, even the simple act of succeeding against overwhelming odds was in itself a triumph. And so even while it’s important, it’s also draining at time.

I’m grateful to be walking the path I’m on right now. I’ve spent a fair amount of time as a warrior of sorts. I know I’m called to be doing this work and yet I find at times that I am tired and I look forward to putting away my implements of warfare and retiring to a life of peace. But that is not today. So tonight I’ll take my rest, grateful to have presented my session and can now be a participant in the rest of the conference. Tomorrow is another day full of possibilities. Tonight, I rest.