Lessons in Gratitude

Tonight I arrived home from work after 8 p.m., which might have been fine had I been working late, but I left the office at around 5:40. It took me over an hour to go about 4 miles. The total trip from the parking lot at work to my house was 2 hours, 11 minutes and 25 seconds, at least a full hour longer than usual. Now you could say that I signed on for this when I decided to live in Maryland closer to my three sisters than living closer to my job in Virginia, and you would be correct. In making that choice I added a lot of complication to my life. I also added a lot of richness. So while there are a few downsides to my current location relative to work, it can’t be beat relative to family proximity. After many years lamenting about how I lived far away from family and wished I’d had the built in emotional and moral support of having family close by, I am now hanging out with my sisters on a semi-regular basis and am in constant phone and/or text contact. I am most definitely grateful for that.

I am also grateful for the “fall back” that we just took this past weekend, turning our clocks back one hour. I realized a few days ago that part of the reason I’m still tired much of the time is that I “sprung forward” a month ago by three hours. Turning my clocks forward one hour has thrown my body off for years; it always took weeks before my body adjusted to the new time. So I have to think that springing forward by three hours can really throw a body out of whack. Perhaps I’m wrong, but it makes sense to me and offers at least one plausible explanation for why I’ve been dragging around even though I’ve had a month to adjust. The combination of the time shift, the overwhelmingness of moving 2800 miles across the country, starting a new job and all the other changes really are enough to make a person quite tired. And have I ever been. So if regaining an hour helps with this, I’m all for it.

In part as a result of a two-plus hour commute, late dinner, etc. I am already half asleep at my keyboard. I am not going to fight it, either. As much as I would like to continue with a long, pithy exploration of the benefits of gratitude, I find that I am too tired to even keep balancing my laptop on my lap. So I am going to sign off early this evening with the hope that you the reader is spending some time in grateful contemplation of the blessings that you have in your life. As for me, I’m going to spend some time contemplating sleep. Tomorrow, after all, is another day.

It is now a certainty: I will not be voting in the 2012 elections. In the midst of moving, I had assumed that my mail in ballot would be forwarded from California. In all the moving shuffle–driving across the country, moving into a new place, starting a new job–I couldn’t get my voter registration shifted to Maryland in time. Every day I’ve checked the mailbox looking for the unmistakable envelop containing my ballot. I’ve known for the last few days that it was too late, but hadn’t really wanted to admit it to myself. In my years of voting I have only missed one other election. Then, like now, was the result of a glitch in my registration, not anything to do with my interest in or desire to vote. I must confess that it almost literally makes me sick that I won’t be able to vote in the upcoming election. I believe there is much at stake, and while the outcome of the election doesn’t rest on my single vote, to be missing it feels deeply unsettling.

It has been during my lifetime that African Americans were gradually able to exercise their right to vote. Of course, Black folks (men, at least)  have voted since the 1870s, in fact, my great, great grandfather voted–a cousin of mine who is a genealogist discovered his voter registration from sometime around that era. My great grandfather was sent as a delegate to the state republican convention sometime in the late 1800s; so not only could black people vote, many were also politically active. But this was rare, and over time, many of the rights African Americans enjoyed briefly–including voting rights–were rolled back for many decades. Eventually the Voting Rights Act of 1965 finally extended that right to all African Americans. People fought–literally–and died for my right to go to the polls and vote. I am distressed that I will not be able to vote this year. Would that I had planned better.

I am not a intrepid, extraverted get on the phone, knock on doors kind of person, and because of commitments and meetings at my new job, I did not feel as though I could take election day off from work and go work the polls or engage in other activities to get people out to vote. So other than sending in a modest campaign contribution (after receiving requests via email several times per day), the only other thing I’ve been able to do relative the election is to pray, which I’ve found myself doing a lot.

Tonight I am grateful for the spirits of my ancestors. I can feel them around me this evening, not allowing me to be discouraged that I will not be mailing in my vote for 2012. There’s an odd sense of…perhaps it is karma. I may not be filling in the little dots on my ballot indicating who I am voting for and what measures I’m for or against, and I may not be exercising my constitutional, legal right to vote on Tuesday, but in so many other actions that I am taking and in the work I do every day, I am doing my part for my country as much as someone who goes into the booth and pulls the lever. I rarely spend much time in this blog espousing any particular political viewpoint; and I’m not going to do so this evening. I am simply grateful for the realization that there are many ways to participate in our democracy and I am mindful of how often I engage in them. This year I will not wear a sticker that says, “I Voted,” but I will celebrate with those who do and be grateful.

I am in an interesting emotional space at the moment, my mind and heart full of a combination of deep thought and introspection and compassion and sympathy. I’ve been on an emotional  ride–not as bone-jarring and whiplash-producing as riding Mephistopheles the mechanical bull, but a ride nonetheless. This began with saying goodbye to Honor this morning who looked a little forlorn as I headed out the door to work, and continued when, merging onto a highway for my daily commute, I saw a deer who’d been struck and killed near the on ramp and a few feet away, her fawn. Each of these things wrenched my heart a little bit, though they might seem insignificant. So my heart was a little soft on my way in to work, though I quickly got whooshed into meetings and other things and for a little while forgot the heart-softening morning I’d had.

Late this afternoon I facilitated a conversation with a group of students on the topic of change. “You know a little bit about change,” the person who’d invited me to lead the conversation had teased me. I had been so busy with meetings and such this week leading up to the conversation that I’d scarcely had time to take a deep breath let alone prepare to lead a team building exercise with students. When I finally did sit down to think about what I wanted to do, I was able to connect with the issue of change in my own life, particularly the last couple of years and how much I’ve learned and grown through the midst of it all.

I talked to the students using the language of natural disasters–I talked about hurricane changes–those when you can see the change coming and prepare for it, brace for it, or head for safer ground. Then there are the earthquake changes, those that come out of the blue. You’re living your life, minding your own business and BAM! Out of nowhere something suddenly happens that you were totally unprepared for. How do you react? What do you learn from it? Those are some of the questions I asked the students to ponder. As I pondered the questions for my own life I realized that among many lessons I’ve learned from the tumult and change of my recent life, it’s been to learn humility. Every human, no matter how exalted or lowly can be stricken, brought low by an earthquake change of circumstance. The resulting helplessness, the need to depend on others for survival can be quite humbling. One has to learn to ask for help, no matter how difficult it might be for some of us to acknowledge first to ourselves and then to others that we cannot do something on our own. Tonight as I was watching a televised benefit for the victims of Hurricane Sandy, comedian and talk show host Jon Stewart uttered a line that shot straight into my heart, “This catastrophe is bigger than our resilience,” he said, “We need help.”

I hadn’t thought until that moment of giving a financial contribution to the Red Cross for disaster relief for Hurricane Sandy; I had often wished I could drive up to New York and volunteer, though I know that wouldn’t be practical or advisable, being that I just started a new job. Still, I stopped what I was doing and made a small donation to the relief effort. It reminded me once again how very much I want to find someplace locally where I can donate my time in service to the community. It’s been nearly two months since my last day volunteering at the Berkeley Food Pantry, and I still feel the loss of not connecting with my fellow volunteers and the clients we served there. Watching the drama up the coast unfold has reawakened my desire to volunteer.

I am grateful tonight for many things. For life, health, and strength. For the roof over my head and the food in my refrigerator. For having enough money to be able to make a contribution, albeit a small one, in relief of people who’ve lost so much. For the safety and wellbeing of my children and my siblings and their children. For the wisdom and humility gained from the earthquake and hurricane changes that have swept through my life and from which I’ve been able to recover time and time again. And I am grateful for the capacity and ability to connect with you to share a few lessons in gratitude that I am learning along the way.

This is one of those nights when I’ve started this blog four different times, each time erasing what I had started to say. I am grateful for what this blog has been for me over these months, the opportunity it has provided for me to focus on the blessings in my life. That was particularly valuable during those periods of my life when I was struggling mightily  with sadness, depression, grief, and loss. Gratitude has been an anchor for me that kept me grounded in the present moment, and focused on finding the good even in the midst of struggle. It continues to be a regular part of my day, every day throughout the day I choose to see the good, the beauty that’s around me.

I have become aware recently that I have become so busy that I am going through the motions of life rather than living it. It’s kind of like gobbling down your food without taking time to taste it. I realize that I am in a period of transition–I’m still getting used to things like the commute (tonight it felt reaaaallllyyyy lonnnnnnggggg), the nonstop meetings at work, figuring out what to fix myself for dinner once I get home, attending to the dog, etc. I am looking forward to settling into a rhythm in which I’m making time to do something fun for me and my four-legged friend. I want to get out my jigsaw puzzles and start putting them together, or getting out my crafting tools and start fiddling with various projects. I want to find a nice nature trail to take Honor walking like I promised her (fortunately she hasn’t started nagging me about my promises.) To date when I get home from work after I attend to Honor’s needs and fix and eat my dinner, I conk out on the sofa half dozing, watch a little TV while I eat before retiring to my room to write my blog then go to bed. Then I get up in the morning and start it all again. This is no different than what millions of other people across the country and around the world do. And that’s fine. I also want to make sure that I am taking a little time to do something for myself. I’m not sure what that looks like just yet, but I’m going to put some energy toward it and see where it goes.

I am grateful for many things in my life, even if tonight I can’t quite articulate well what they all are. One could suggest that after 476 days of blogs I’ve written about everything there is for me to be grateful for; but I don’t think I’ve reached the end of my gratitude days, just running into tiredness and writer’s block that prevents me from saying what I want to say. I will never cease to be grateful, but I may falter in my ability to express it. Nevertheless, it continues to be important for me to persist in focusing on gratitude and expressing it in some small way each day. My hope is that in so doing I not only strengthen my own capacity to be thankful, but perhaps inspire even one person each day to do the same. If I accomplish that, then I am satisfied and doubly grateful.

Tonight I am keenly aware of all the people who have lost so much in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. I sat up for a while last night listening to the howling wind and stinging rain. My lights flickered periodically and I expected that at any moment I would lose my electricity. I went to sleep as the storm raged outside. Around 1:15 a.m. my daughter called me from Seattle, anxious and fretful that something bad was happening to me as a result of the storm. I reassured her as best I could, noting that I still had power that illuminated the clock on my bedside table. I could still hear the sounds of the wind and rain, but quickly went back to sleep. When I woke this morning I noted that my clock was still lit and the power was still on. I rose to a relatively warm house and was able to turn on my coffee and engage in a relatively routine start to the day.

I was keenly aware of how fortunate I was to have come through the storm so easily. As I watched the various news reports throughout the day that detailed the devastation the storm wreaked I found myself struggling to be grateful to have gotten through it unscathed while literally millions of people were negatively affected by it to varying degrees. I cannot say I feel guilty that I made it through, guilt is not a useful emotion. But I am aware of the struggles and suffering of so many people in the aftermath of the hurricane. My thoughts and prayers have been with them off and on throughout the day and will be in the days to come.

I didn’t venture away from home today. Campus was closed for the second straight day, so I stayed put, only venturing outside long enough to take the dog out and to walk around picking up sticks and branches that had blown down in the storm. I also found myself working on a number of things that I hadn’t gotten to in the first few weeks since my arrival from California. I did some more unpacking and spent a little time undoing some of the preparations I’d made: I took the batteries back out of the radio and put them into the flashlight, and I began the process of using up the gallons of water I’d stored in various pots, pans, buckets, bottles and other containers I’d hastily filled with tap water in the days before the storm. (As I write this I still have a bathtub full.) It feels a little silly now to look around at all the water, and more than a little wasteful to now be pouring some of it down the drain (at the very least I need to empty the tub so I can shower in the morning…) Nonetheless, it was an important exercise in disaster preparedness, and I plan not to wait for the next climatic threat before I stock up on fresh batteries and other things I need to have around me in the event that something like Hurricane Sandy decides to show up.

I am grateful to have come through the storm without harm, and to the best of my knowledge my sisters came through it alright as well, though my oldest sister did lose power for a short time. I am still navigating my way around my new environs and am working with a new schedule, but as soon as I have it figured out I hope to find ways to give time to the community in some way. I miss my days volunteering at the Berkeley Food Pantry and hope I can find something as worthwhile that I can give my time and energy to. Seeing the impact of the disaster on people in this area and up the Coast makes me want to find ways to help as best I can. In the meantime my continued prayers and good wishes go out to all who are struggling to rebuild their lives.

Today has been another time of waiting, preparing, and more waiting as the storm bears down on the eastern part of the country. I have been cooking, filling various containers with water, finding candles and looking for batteries to fill my boombox so I can have radio once the power goes out. Unfortunately, the boombox uses the same batteries as my flashlights do. Interesting conundrum. Still, because I have candles, I can spare the batteries for the radio. This is a surreal feeling. The last time I had to prepare for something like this was several years ago when we were living in Pennsylvania and were in the path of a blizzard that was bearing down on us. As I wrote the other day, it’s good to know something is coming so that you can prepare for it, but with forces of nature like hurricanes and blizzards you can only plan so much. I am trying to get this blog finished while I still have electricity which, from the sounds of the wind outside and the periodic flickering of my lights inside, could only be a short time longer.

Listening to the wind howl outside is a bit unnerving, and I am aware of the locations of all the trees around my house and car. The rain is being driven into the windows and pelting off the house. Under most circumstances, the sound of rain falling and the wind in the trees is relaxing and comforting. But when you know that the rain and wind are coming from a massive hurricane and that “the worst is yet to come” according to the news, then the sound is far from relaxing.Given that the worst of the storm is expected to hit late tonight, I imagine that sleep might not come so easily this evening. It is not so much about being frightened, it is more about being aware of what’s happening outside.

I have had the news on all day. At one point I was on storm information overload–I switched the television over to ESPN and might actually spend a few minutes watching a movie or part of the football game if I still have electricity. We shall see.

I am grateful that at this moment I am safe and warm and dry. My thoughts and prayers are with those who do not have adequate shelter in the midst of this storm. I have been in touch with my sisters by text and phone. Everyone is safe and hunkered down and at the moment everyone has power. We shall see what the rest of the evening and the morning will bring. I am optimistic that all shall be well. We’ll see you back here tomorrow!

It has been an odd sort of day. I was up way too late last night (though not doing much better tonight as it is already 11 p.m. here in the East) and as a result woke up late this morning. Then off and on I’ve been watching the weather channel for information on the approaching hurricane, working on sundry things, cooking a couple of days worth of meals, raiding the chocolate out of the Halloween candy bag (thank goodness there’s not much chocolate in there…), and puttering around the house waiting for the wind to pick up. I stuck my head outside a little while ago and all that’s happening at the moment is light rain and a little wind. So it’s kind of hurry up and wait in terms of the approaching storm. I suspect the wind will pick up and everything will start happening in the middle of the night while I am sleeping.

Across the area things are canceled, postponed, suspended, or shut down. At my workplace, classes have been canceled and administrative offices will be closed all of Monday and not reopened until Tuesday at noon. I did a little preparation to “batten down the hatches” at my house, but still being somewhat new and having limited space for storing things out of harm’s way (I have no garage, no basement and little in the way of places to put thing) I mostly left things outside. A West Coast friend inquired about what room Honor and I would hunker down in should the wind and weather get really dicey. I supposed it would be the bathroom as it has only one small window and is located on the side of the house where there are no trees. My office is another possibility for similar reasons, and somehow I can’t help feeling that it would be more comfortable during the siege than the bathroom. So we shall see. Hopefully it will not be necessary to hunker down anywhere.

I’m grateful that I won’t have to get up tomorrow morning and decide to try to brave the commute to work. I am hopeful that the storm will not be as dramatic here as they are predicting for further up the coast, but I have no idea what we’re in for. My plan is to get to sleep as best I can, stay asleep barring unforeseen storm-related drama, and get up in the morning and get on with the day as best I can. I actually have work-related things I can do, and if I have electricity, I plan to have a semi-regular sort of day.

So I will walk around the house one more time before retiring for the night. I’ll stick my head outside and check the weather one more time. Be sure I have my flashlight near my bed and in general be as ready as I can. That is all one really can do about most anything, after all.