On giving thanks – 11.8
On November 8, 2011, I am thankful for life.
It sounds cheesy and a little trite, but today I got a little caught up in the stress of deadlines, lack of sleep, and other mundane concerns. I’m ending my day feeling a bit tired, weighed down, and weary.
But I’m also ending my day feeling unequivocally and overwhelmingly thankful for life.
Someone close to me lost a dear friend this week in a senseless and ugly act of violence. Even though the entire situation is twice removed from where I sit, I am sad. I don’t know how to help my loved one grieve, and I don’t know how to make sense of a vibrant, youthful, and joyful life being snuffed out in such an ugly, soulless way.
Its an old tale – something like this happens, and suddenly you feel your own mortality, your own fragility, a bit more acutely. I don’t know what to make of it.
All I do know right now is that my heart beats and breaks, my feet dance when I’m joyful and run to catch the bus when I’m late, my eyes soak in beauty and grow heavy while I write into the wee hours.
Usually I don’t think about it, and usually it goes without saying. But not today.
In so many senses of the word, I am alive.
And for that, I am thankful.