Lessons In Gratitude Day 931–Hitting the Pause Button

Posted on October 1, 2014 by mtchamblee

Sometimes I have to remember to breathe. Obviously, thanks in part to our autonomic nervous system, we automatically breathe or we’d pass out and then the autonomic nervous system that controls things like respiration and circulation kicks in and we breathe without needing to think about it. (I am grateful for this, by the way.) Still, I go through some really intense times in which things I’m doing, projects I’m working on, requests people are making of me all seem to converge at the same time. And quite without realizing it, I find that I am holding my breath and have to consciously relax my tensed muscles, exhale, and take a nice deep in breath.

It feels as though I have been running nonstop since–well, I’m not sure since when–late spring perhaps. Issue after issue, project after project, deadline upon deadline (upon deadline.) The summer came and went with no relief, no vacation (a few days of “staycation”). It has been a time of continuous preparation for something. Prepare, turn in report. Prepare, give presentation. Prepare, host meeting. Nonstop preparation for and delivering of something. It seems to be unending. As much as I would like for this current round to over, it seems I am gearing up for more preparing and more delivering.

I suppose this is all part of the ebb and flow of life, at least at my life at this time. Somehow I manage to figure out how to make it work, though admittedly it’s exhausting at times. That is when I have to remember to somehow find a way to truly be in, live in the moment rather than spending time anxiously preparing for the next thing that’s due or lamenting the last thing that didn’t go well. What can I enjoy and appreciate in this moment right now? If you were to take a moment just now (after reading the instructions I’m about to give), take a deep breath (feels good, doesn’t it?) and look around you where you’re sitting right now. I bet it won’t take more than a second for your eyes to light on something that makes you relax just a little and maybe even smile. Or perhaps it’s something you can hear–the sound of music playing softly in the background as you’re reading this. Maybe it’s the feel of your cat or dog resting in your lap or the breeze from the window tickling your skin. It could be the smell of your morning cup of joe or something cooking in the next room. Whatever it is, it has the power to immediately transform this moment into something special, something to be grateful for.

During some of these really intense times in my life it is really helpful for me to remember to appreciate the moment that I’m in right now, and then the next one. In truth we really do only have to focus on this moment to bring on a sense of serenity, gratitude, happiness, or any number of other good things. This is not some magic trick; sometimes life is hard and all the focusing on the moment in the world can’t pull us from the depths of grief, sorrow, depression, fear, anger or any other strong emotion we may be experiencing. But in those moments of simple frazzlement or angst or crankiness or confusion, hitting the pause button, taking a few slow, deep breaths, and searching for the beauty in the moment is enough to put a little wind in our sails, a little smile to our lips, a little lift in our step.

I tried it just now. Right here in the airplane as we’re about to land. I looked down at my hands as I’m typing this blog and looking at the beautiful rings I wear on them–two rings on each hand.  I look at them and remember where I got them from, what they represent to me, how much they compliment my skin color and the other jewelry that I wear. It is a simple thing, but it made me smile in gratitude and appreciation at the close of a long day. As I drove home from the airport, I saw the half moon hanging in a clear sky and I smiled. So many simple things bring me such pleasure and joy in the moment. For that I am most particuarly grateful.

Posted in Gratitude, Living in the Moment, Simple Blessings/Gratitude | Leave a comment

Lessons in Gratitude Day 930–Hurry Up and Wait

Posted on September 29, 2014 by mtchamblee
“Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.”
~Henry Van Dyke

It can be really hard to wait sometimes. Think about being a kid counting down the days until Christmas–the anticipation, the anxiety of wondering if one has been “naughty or nice” enough to merit presents this year, the sense of “will it ever get here.” For those of us who were fortunate enough to grow up in loving families who had the financial means to make Christmas a special event with gifts and good food and fun, the days and hours of waiting had us fairly bursting with anticipation.

Waiting can also involve a period of intense anxiety–wondering if you passed an important exam, waiting for x-rays or medical test results to come back from the lab, listening out for the “all clear” siren after a serious storm. Time is definitely too slow for those who wait; because whether one is expecting something “good” to happen or anticipating something “bad,” more often than not we want whatever’s going to happen to hurry up already. And then suddenly, after all the weeks, days, and hours of waiting, the event is suddenly here and in not too much longer it becomes an afterthought.

I have had periods of waiting and will have plenty more before it’s all said and done. What I’ve learned  as I’ve gotten older is that how I wait is what makes the difference between excruciating anxiety and relative calm acceptance. It doesn’t really matter the situation, fretting doesn’t make anything happen any faster. What happens in the process is what matters. We build things up in our imaginations until what we’re waiting for has become so big it has taken on a life of its own. If I could learn to remain peaceful and calm in the midst of waiting for something to happen, my life would be a whole lot easier. I truly wish I could learn this lesson–it’s on my list of really useful tools to enhance my wellbeing and sense of serenity.

I am given numerous, frequent opportunities to develop the capacity to wait patiently for something. I’m grateful for these learning experiences, for the opportunity to sharpen my waiting skills. Let me approach each situation in which I find myself waiting, with patience, understanding, and calm. It’s a lofty goal, but an attainable one, provided I can be patient with myself when I demonstrate my impatience with delay. In the meantime I’ll be guided by grace and gratitude during those moments I spend waiting. May it be so!

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 929–Simple Thanks

Posted on September 28, 2014 by mtchamblee

I am grateful this evening to have wonderful, spiritual people around me. I’ve had teachers and guides, pastors and spiritual leaders who have at times breathed a bit of fresh perspective into my mind and heart. Sometimes they don’t even know what they’re doing, but by their very presence they are responding to questions I didn’t even know I was asking. Some days ago I wrote about the teacher appearing when the student is ready. I am a firm believer that almost everything we encounter during the course of our days–even seemingly inanimate objects that we run across can provide a lesson, particularly if it invokes a particular feeling or memory that leads us to an insight. I sometimes receive information or inspiration from some of the most unexpected things in the most random ways. So I am constantly paying attention to the people and things that I encounter.

I have been visiting with friends this weekend. First it was my best friend from college, and today it’s been a newer but also wonderful friend with whom I will spend time tomorrow as well. Then I begin a couple of days of intense meetings during which I’ll have very little down time. So tonight is a good one for some simple gratitude. I remain grateful for the friends I’ve seen these past few days. I am reminded that there are few things better than a good friend. They make me laugh, listen to me when I have concerns, offer a shoulder to cry on  (or a place to crash for a few days), and are generally there for me.

I am grateful that these friendships were forged through mutuality of connection and caring. That is to say that at various points in both of the friendships I’m writing about this evening that I have cultivated, grown and reaped the benefits of friendship by first being a friend. I was one who listened, offered advice or coaching in various situations, and generally made myself available to them. It has been a real blessing over the past few years, particularly in some of my more trying years, to have been held and supported by these two and other dear friends and family during a time when I was really struggling. It takes being a good friend to also have a good friend. To be dependable for others often provides motivation for one to be likewise able to depend upon others. While that’s not why we give to others, it is nonetheless a nice side effect.

I am going to conk out tonight. I didn’t sleep particularly well last night, in fact I slept rather poorly, waking several times during the night. I am anxious to see if I can improve upon that tonight and will try shortly. I am grateful for simple things, and I am grateful for profound or really big things. Tonight as I prepare to take my rest, I am grateful for having a comfortable and safe place to rest my head. Though I am away from home it is nice to feel as cared for as if this were my home. I look forward to the days when I can reciprocate as host to these folks who have housed and fed me. Until then I will offer prayers and good wishes to them for their generosity and move on and be grateful all along the way.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 928–Friends Indeed

Posted on September 27, 2014 by mtchamblee
A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.
~William Shakespeare

Tonight I am grateful for my friend, Pat. I have been a guest at her home these two days. We have been friends since college—for over 35 years now. When I think about my relationship with Pat, I have to smile. At the time I met her I was shy and somewhat socially awkward (though it pains me to admit that.) So the likelihood of my being good friends with anyone was relatively small. I had a small circle of friends in my residence hall at college—people who’d been attracted to my guitar playing and wandered into my room to listen and stayed to learn more about me. But outside of that group I didn’t know many people and though I wanted to connect more with the African American students on campus, I was too shy to find my way into the circle. I spoke acknowledgment to everyone I passed but did not make connections.

It might have continued this way until my graduation if fate hadn’t intervened. I was walking from my residence hall toward the center of our large campus. As I looked ahead on the path I could see a young woman coming toward me. I had seen her many times—she lived in my residence hall or one near it and I frequently passed her, always speaking as we passed. On this particular day, as we got closer, she walked deliberately over to me.

“Hello,” a warm smiled creased her lovely mocha-brown features, “We pass each other all the time but we’ve never met. My name is Alma.”
Alma means “soul” in Spanish, I thought to myself and smiling back, shook her hand. “I’m Terry.”
“Glad to meet you, Terry.”
“Likewise,” I smiled and after a moment I excused myself to head on to class, with a thanks to Alma for stopping to introduce herself.

That brief introduction had opened a door that I had been to shy to approach. Shortly after my encounter with Alma, I met Pat. Undoubtedly Alma was able to report to some of the other Black students in her circle that I indeed had a name and actually seemed at least friendly. Pat was one of those who directly or indirectly decided to find out. The rest, as they say, is history.

I am not quite sure how we became such good friends. We are temperamentally quite different and have distinctly different backgrounds and experiences. Yet we have such a heart connection that such differences do not register, especially after three decades of friendship. We’ve gone through marriages, divorces, and single parenthood together. We raised our sons together—Pat’s son is a few months younger than mine—commiserating on being single women trying to raise boys. I of course was also raising a daughter. Through many dangers, toils, and snares our friendship has endured. And though we lost touch with one another for a couple of years in the midst of some life drama Pat was experiencing as well as my own life challenges, we eventually reconnected and have not looked back. Separated by miles, we’ve maintained fairly regular contact, no more than a few weeks going by without some phone contact. We’re as likely to spend two hours on the phone in deep conversation as we are 30 minutes of quick catching up. Through it all, we make it work.

What makes for an enduring friendship? What are the elements of any “successful” relationship? “Love” alone is not enough—at least not in the ways love is portrayed in the mainstream. Love in the verb form requires a great deal of work. It is saying to another being, “I see you, and accept you for all of who you are—those parts I relate to and understand, as well as those that make me shake my head in confusion.” It says that I am here for you, will defend you with my life if necessary. That is a deep commitment and a standard that few people will achieve. For most of us, we won’t know we’re there until that’s tested.

I am grateful for the friendships and relationships I have forged over the years. Some are acquaintanceships that, while they have perhaps lasted many years never went very deep. Friends like Pat are very nearly family–she’s my fourth sister. I echo this sentiment shared by author and activist Helen Keller: “So long as the memory of certain beloved friends lives in my heart, I shall say that life is good.” Good indeed, and I am grateful.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 927–Keeping it Simple, Keeping it Real.

Posted on September 25, 2014 by mtchamblee

Tonight I only have the energy for simple gratitude. This is one of those “grateful I made it through” kind of days. Rainy, low energy days. Unlike yesterday, which could best be described as another wild ride on Mephistopheles the Mechanical Bull, today was comparatively calm and uneventful in a slow motion, mind numbing kind of way. Nothing bad happened, nothing good happened. In that sense it wasn’t a “terrible, horrible, no good, really bad day.” It simply was what it was. Mama said there’ll be days like this, and it was so.

I am grateful tonight for very simple things: like good friends whom you can call up on a moment’s notice and tell them everything that’s bothering you and have them say, “do you want me to make suggestions, or do you really need me to just listen?” And when I said, “Please start by listening, but I definitely do want to hear your thoughts,” she did just that. It was exactly what I needed in that moment and I was so grateful that she answered the phone.

I am grateful for my four-legged sidekick. Two years ago when I moved from California to the other side of the country, she was my company on that last, 600-mile leg of the trip (my brother accompanied us for the first 2100 miles.) Living with Honor is the first time in my life I haven’t lived with another human being. I’d gone from my parents house to college and graduate school with roommates. I had at least one and as many as five roommates over the next several years. After that I was married, had kids, got divorced, was a single parent, etc. So two years ago I was suddenly living on my own for the first time ever. Me and Honnie. I am grateful for her happy, easygoing, fun-loving, living in the moment, gentle friendliness. She greets me when I wake up and is always ecstatically happy when I get home from work in the evenings. She is never too tired to play ball, and doesn’t seem to get bothered when I am. On days like I had today (and even on days that ended like yesterday’s did, it’s nice to have my friend greet me at the door with unbounded enthusiasm. Even as I write about it, I smile.

My Friend Honor

Friends and family are the greatest blessings in my life. When other things are going haywire, they are the steadying force in my life. I am exceedingly grateful for their presence in my life and am gratified to know that the feeling is mutual, at least for some of them.

This hasn’t been the best day, but it by far hasn’t been my worst. On average, it hasn’t really been bad at all. The good thing is that I can go to bed knowing that I ended my day focused on gratitude for even the simplest blessings in my life and looking ahead to having a better day tomorrow. At the end of the day, what matters is that I did the best I could with where I was and what I was working with. Sometimes I do magic and sometimes I simply hold on for dear life as Mephisto whips this way and that trying to unseat me. Sometimes I land on my feet or neatly tuck and roll when Mephisto throws me, and other times I hit the wall and get knocked temporarily senseless. Either way, I manage to pull myself together and keep moving forward, as best I can. For all of these things, simple and otherwise, I can say that I am most exceedingly grateful. And so it is.

Posted in Four-legged Companion, Friends, Simple Blessings/Gratitude | Leave a comment

Lessons in Gratitude Day 926–“I Feel Good…”

Posted on September 24, 2014 by mtchamblee
“I feel good, just like I knew that I would.”
~James Brown

This morning as I walk in to and through my office suite, I feel good. I could say, “inexplicably good,” but it is largely explicable. I feel good in part because I purposed to do so; I began this day with the intent of feeling good–feeling the verb, not feeling the noun. This morning as I wrote in my journal, I decided that I would make a significant effort to go through the entire day without complaining. I had seen something on Facebook the other night about how spending an entire day without complaining would transform your day, your world. Even as I purposed that I would go through this day without complaining about anything, I knew I would be challenged as soon as I started onto the Beltway for my morning commute. I determined that I would not let the madness of the morning rush hour allow me to stray from the non-complaining stance I had taken. So I determined it, so it was. I went through the commute smiling and shaking my head each time someone did something “crazy,” and proceeded without comment or complaint.

Today I have chosen to actively feel good. Sometimes I/we humans act as if feelings are something that happen to me/us, that somehow they sneaks up on and attack me/us unawares. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was minding my own business, feeling fine, when suddenly BAM! Out of nowhere sadness struck me.” And while I have certainly experienced unexpected bursts of emotion–many times, in fact–I also know that I can, with a degree of effort, feel just about any way I choose to. So why wouldn’t I choose to feel good? 🙂 (Yes, I did just insert a smiley face in the middle of this post.)

I also want to be very clear that I am not suggesting a fakey, “let’s all feel good,” psuedo-scientific approach to happiness and positivity. I can be as skeptical and hard-bitten as anyone: I have struggled with depression and sadness most of my life, and it drives me nuts when someone suggests that it’s as simple as looking in the mirror and repeating to yourself, “I am happy…” or the extremely depressing notion that 50 percent of our happiness is genetically predetermined and that somewhere around 40 percent is somehow magically within our control. Seriously? All you have to do is Google “the science of happiness” to get flooded with articles, TED talks, and YouTube videos filled with “facts” and information–much of it contradictory–on how this whole happiness thing works. So I don’t pretend to have the answers; more often than not I  have questions. But today I am simply grateful to be experiencing this happiness, this good feeling, in this moment, right now. (By the way, I ran into this YouTube video that connects happiness to gratitude…enjoy!)

I also decided, as I walked jauntily and happily back into my office (after going out to fill my water bottle) that I wasn’t going to get attached to this feeling good thing; the Buddhists caution about the hook of attachment–we feel good and we want to hold onto that feeling. But most of us know that if we hold onto something too hard, it almost always slips away from us. Picture a young child holding a bug, fluffy cat and what happens when the cat is ready to get down and child is unwilling to let go. What happens to the child and what happens to the cat? I have to believe that trying to hold onto a good thing, having an attachment to that thing, that feeling we get from that thing, generally ends in disappointment at best or disaster (getting scratched up by the fleeing cat of happiness) at worst.

So at 9:12 this morning as I write this, I am feeling good. I will not post this blog until after I get home from work (and the often more stressful and frustrating commute home)  and we’ll see how the day goes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s 8:45 p.m. and I’m sitting here in my usual spot on my bed, propped against my study pillow, laptop on lap. I am reporting back in on my feeling good and my non-complaining pledge. I ended the day on a challenging note. I had back-to-back, difficult meetings where information was shared that caused me to fall into if not complaint then at least in exasperation and frustration. I tried not to complain or get too negative, but it was all I could do not to and had to bite my proverbial tongue on many occasions. I left at the end of the day feeling as discouraged walking out of the building at the end of the day as I felt good walking into the building at the beginning. Quite the study in contrasts, no?

And yet, at the end of this day, guess what? Yep, you got it–I am grateful. I was able to let go of my attachment to the early feel good. I had a really good meeting during which I shared with two trusted colleagues some personal stories from my past that helped illustrate some points I was making.  I realized as I pondered the sadness I was feeling as I headed out onto my commute home that while some of it was the events of the day, at least part of it I now recognize as the residual effects of missing both of my parents, particularly my mother. It was she to whom I looked for comfort when things were difficult, and even after 19 years I still wish I could call her with the childlike hope that she could make it all better. Those feelings were all tied up in the anniversary of my father’s death that I wrote about yesterday. Delayed reaction, I suppose.

So I am approaching all of this with a healthy dose of self compassion, self-forgiveness (thanks, Ric), and arms open wide to the full experience of the human condition–sorrow, grief, happiness, joy, frustration, disappointment, and dancing. As I prepare to take my rest for the evening I am exhausted but no longer disquieted and for that I am grateful. And I am grateful for all that I experienced in this day, start to finish. Tomorrow, as Scarlett O’Hara observed, is another day. I will be with whatever unfolds, approaching it with as much lovingkindness, compassion, joy and equanimity as I can muster, and, of course, gratitude.

Posted in Compassion, Gratitude, Happiness | Leave a comment

Lessons in Gratitude Day 925–It’s About Family

Posted on September 23, 2014 by mtchamblee

It’s an occupational hazard for those of us who blog daily that we inevitably have those days when we either don’t feel like writing, don’t have anything new to say, are uninspired or any and all the other permutations associated with writer’s block. A wise person would save up all kinds of writing prompts and topics and have then at the ready for just such an occasion as this or for those occasions when one is traveling and needing something to pop on the blogsite real quick like. But no. Most nights I sit on my bed, propped against my study pillow with my laptop on my lap staring at the screen, tapping idly on the keyboard (not hard enough to actually type letters) waiting for inspiration to come. On most days, it actually arrives, though sometimes sluggish and laboriously slow. I am not entirely sure how I managed to write for these 900-plus days (over 700 of them consecutive without a break), but I’m pleased and grateful that I did.

It would be tempting (and perhaps easy) this evening to write about my gratitude for my father and his life. Four years ago today my father died, a few minutes before I arrived at the hospital to see him. Fortunately I had already been there for a few days, having flown out from California to essentially say goodbye to him. And even though I knew his death was imminent, I was nonetheless caught off guard by the reality of it when it happened. I am grateful for my Dad and will commemorate him quietly this year. I first wrote about his passing on the one-year anniversary of his death on September 23, 2011 and revisited it again last year. And while he has not been far from my thoughts over the past several days, I will leave you to read those earlier posts if you want to experience with me those last hours with my Dad. Tonight I will focus elsewhere.

Mostly tonight I am grateful for simple things. Like my sister Ruth, who came over on short notice to consult with me on a matter of wardrobe needed for an event next week. I am so grateful to my siblings, many of whom, with little notice and nothing more than a heartfelt, “Can you help me with this?” will find a way to show up and help out. “Sure, but you always know what to wear,” Ruth replied to my text. “Will it work for you if I come tonight?” No hesitation or questions, and in spite of the likelihood that she was tired having just gotten off work and not having changed clothes or eaten dinner, she came over, consulted, made suggestions, and played with Honor for a few minutes before heading home. As I think more about it I realize that it’s simply what we do for one another. I have little doubt that Ruth knows I’d do the same for her if she needed me to, perhaps not to consult with her on clothing choices but something more in line with some expertise or assistance that I can readily offer.

It’s what we do. My siblings have all in various ways helped me over the past few years. I’ve put out there that I needed something and they have, to a person, responded in one way or another. And on those occasions when I can do something for one of them (or their partners or children), I do my best to give in whatever ways I can–sometimes it’s advice, sometimes it’s a ride, sometimes it’s helping out in the yard. Whatever it might be, if it’s in my power or ability to do it, I’m there. It’s a family thing; it’s what we do. It is something that I try not to take for granted or take advantage of, but receive such blessings with love and deep gratitude. And so it is.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 924–Coming Down Off the Fence

Posted on September 22, 2014 by mtchamblee

I’ve decided that I’m coming down off the fence. I realized not too long ago that I was sitting on a very tall fence, watching the world go by with some dismay (and often disapproval), and yet not finding my way clear to commenting on what I see around me. There are so many contentious issues that have garnered national, international, and local attention, and work that I do everyday on issues of racism and discrimination, power and privilege, and the many ways in which we interact with one another in negative, harmful, and destructive ways it seems that I would have something to say about it. I am a blogger after all. But I have been largely silent.

Fence sitting is an uncomfortable enterprise at best. Imagine what it might physically feel like to literally sit on a fence for days and weeks on end, not coming down, not making a decision, not commenting on the social ills happening around oneself. You can imagine that it gets pretty uncomfortable. But for some people climbing down off the fence and taking a stand is far more frightening and uncomfortable and sitting there. And so, we sit. I sit. But not for much longer.

I have watched various issues play out on the national news, social media, local and international scenes. Police shooting unarmed youth, rampant gun violence in schools and malls and movie theatres, warfare and bloodshed in Gaza, and around the world, domestic violence and brutality against transgender people, immigration and deportation, class warfare and the erosion of support for the working poor, unemployed (and underemployed). There are almost too many places calling for comment, for protest, for outcry. Who has time or energy for all of this? And so I have sat on the fence choosing not to engage in any public way.

I write about gratitude every day. But what about the other things that need to be expressed publicly on a regular basis? How do I engage those topics and share my thoughts more broadly. And who will listen (read)?

I have been sitting on the fence for a long time now. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t sit idly by and do nothing; much of the work I do involves working within an institutional system on issues related to social change and support for people of diverse backgrounds. At times I’ve had to be cautious in how I might publicly approach some of the problems and challenges facing people with  less access to power and privilege; in some places in my life I too lack some privilege. The key is to use the privilege I do have, carefully–sometimes covertly–in service to the people and causes I support. Sometimes that means fence sitting in public while working behind the scenes in private.

The serenity prayer begins, “Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change; courage to change the things that I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.” This in part sums up the work that I do. It is part an assessment of what I think I can influence and move toward change and approaches and strategies for making it happen, and knowing when to fold up the tent and go home. It’s about knowing when to climb down off the fence and take action, take a stand, stand up and be counted. God grant me the wisdom to know which battles to take on and when and which ones to leave to someone else.

Tonight I am on the edge of action. I’m not quite sure what it is yet, but it’s coming and one of these days soon I’m going to communicate it “out there.” I’m grateful for the practice I’ve had writing all these 900-plus days. I am hoping it has prepared me for continuing to work toward social change and expressing it to the world. At the end of the day it’s what I’m here for. And so it is.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 923–The Body Remembers

Posted on September 21, 2014 by mtchamblee

Sometimes my mind forgets things. Like many people I know I can be scatterbrained and forgetful. I try not to be too hard on myself about it; it’s a function of my age, waxing and waning hormones that go along with it, and the natural progression of life in this fast-paced day and age. Heck, even younger people are forgetting things as their overtaxed, overstimulated, overtechnologized (yes, I know that’s a made-up word) minds can’t keep up with everything that’s going on around them. When our minds are packed so full of information, ideas, thoughts, visions, etc. something is bound to fall out, right?

I was having a philosophical discussion with my son about this a few weeks ago. Technically our brains store virtually everything we’ve ever seen, heard, experienced, etc. The challenge comes in when we try to access (recall) the information. People with photographic memories remember everything they’ve ever read and can recall it in great detail. There are some people who can remember the faces of everyone they’ve ever met, and actually their names as well! I myself don’t have a particularly good memory, although I’ve been trying to exercise my brain playing some of those games on the computer designed to improve my cognitive ability. I’m not totally convinced they’re having a great deal of impact, but they can be a fun way to pass a few minutes and if my brain gets stronger in the process, more’s the better.

I continue to be amazed, however, at the capacity of my body to remember things before my minds does. For example, I can be minding my own business when I can be hit with an overwhelming wave of sadness. “What’s the matter with you?” I chide myself, somewhat impatiently, brushing at my eyes and willing myself to get it together. Eventually I push past it and get on with whatever I was doing when it hit. Sometimes the sadness lasts longer than a few moments and I might go through an entire day battling it, shaking it just enough to function through the course of work, the commute, etc. only to have it reemerge when I’ve quieted myself in preparation for sleep at the close of day. When the sadness lingers into the next day and I find myself dragging through a couple of days perhaps not deeply enmeshed in it, but with a subliminal awareness that I am not quite feeling right. Then I remember–that is, my conscious mind remembers–that I am coming up on the anniversary of some great loss–my mother’s death, my father’s passing, the loss of my job, the ending of my relationship. Ah yes. The mind has forgotten, but the body remembers.

Each year for many years after my mother’s death, I experienced phenomenon I described earlier–a creeping sadness working it’s way through my body as a dragging weight, a pressure in the chest, a tightening of the throat, a stinging of the eyes as they fill with tears, inexplicable emotionality–all of this before my mind catches on that this was the annual rite that I’d come to call “my mommy cells waking up.” My body remembers before my conscious mind catches up. Now, I am coming up on the anniversary of my father’s death four years ago. Four years ago today I flew from California home to Indiana to sit by his bedside, and hold his hand, and listen to his gasping breaths as I sat vigil with him during the last 48 hours of his life. My daddy cells began waking some weeks ago. I should have recognized them for what they were, but this year they’ve been masked by other stressors and emotions and so were hidden from my awareness until now.

Some scientists scoff at the idea of “cellular” or “tissue memory,” and perhaps the idea of one’s body “remembering” is unlikely or unscientific or something to be scoffed at. All I know is that for me certain sights, sounds, smells can invoke a particular memory not simply in my head, but often in my body. And when my conscious mind can’t make sense of why I am inexplicably struggling with a mental, physical, and emotional phenomenon like sadness, I can often trace it back to memories of some traumatic event.

So what does any of this have to do with gratitude? Heck, I don’t know. I am grateful to have the insight into knowing that my body is following a particular rhythm to the cycles of life and death as I’ve experienced them around me. I miss my parents’ physical presence in my life, and while my mind is able to “move on” and push through and past any lingering grief at their loss, my body remembers and allows my heart and mind to align briefly in acknowledgment. I wish I could articulate this better; this is one of those topics that I feel much more clearly and deeply than I can explain. Overall I am grateful for the wisdom and insights I gain from listening to what my body is telling me and tuning in to what’s happening beneath the surface of conscious thought. There, if I pay careful attention, I will find the answer to questions I hadn’t realized I was asking. And for that I am especially grateful.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 922–Whither the Teacher?

Posted on September 20, 2014 by mtchamblee
When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.
~Buddhist Proverb

I am grateful that at any given moment I am surrounded by teachers. They are literally everywhere, and can be just about anybody or anything; if I am paying attention I am constantly learning from someone. I read a piece that my daughter wrote yesterday that gave me a great deal to think about. I was impressed by their insight and self awareness reflected in the piece and it sparked my thinking about a number of things. I am so glad to be in a place where I am learning from both of my kids–they are not children any more, but young adults with ideas and insights and knowledge that I learn from on a regular basis. It’s nice not to have to know everything anymore, though my son, whom at one point I had dubbed “the knower of all things,” would be quick to tell you I didn’t know everything, in fact, he did and probably still does.

When I think about all the time I spent in school–20-plus years of formal education is a really long time–I think what I learned more than anything was not subject matter and content, though there was plenty of that. Mostly what I learned that still serves me well is how to learn, think, ask questions, explore, examine. The content of what we learn in school is constantly changing: advances in science, technology, all kinds of theories and knowledge bases expand. What was cutting age ten years ago is virtually obsolete now. So it’s less about knowing facts and “stuff” and more about training the mind to be in a constant state of learning, absorbing and pondering new ideas and concepts.

I always loved reading and studying and thinking about new ideas, novel approaches to various issues, and ways to convey those ideas to others. There is an African proverb that says, “He who learns, teaches.” This too makes sense to me and is why I have often found myself in situations where I am teaching or sharing ideas with the people around me. It is how I ended up working in higher education all these years. Love of knowledge and love of sharing knowledge and wisdom with others.

I am fortunate to have many teachers around me: wise elders, spiritual teachers, mentors, and role models. There are lessons to be learned from just about everybody and everything, if I pay attention to the world around me and open myself up to it. As a child I learned a lot from sitting around listening to the adults rather than spending time in more frivolous (though age appropriate) pursuits like playing. If there’s one thing I still need to learn much more about it’s play…

I’ve also learned a great deal in the school of hard knocks. Certain life experiences have taught me valuable if difficult lessons, and while I wouldn’t necessarily wish them on anyone else, they were important to my growth as a compassionate human being. Like most people I still have my moments when I’m ready to graduate from the school of hard knocks and learn some lessons the easy way. But as the old folks say, “I wouldn’t take nothing for my journey,” because it is in large part what has made me who I am in all my beautiful imperfection.

These days I find myself wanting a teacher. I miss my spiritual teachers from back in California, and need to place myself in situations where I can be a learner and a follower rather than a leader and teacher. There have been times when I have sought a teacher only to realize that within myself I held all the wisdom I needed in a particular moment. I will have to quiet myself and see from whence my next teacher will come. May they come soon. In the meantime, I will continue with my gratitude practice, offering and sharing here each day, and continue to learn from everything and everyone around me as best I can.

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