My day started with my cat’s very pretty, cheerful, purring-infused meowing. And meowing, and meowing, and meowing. He walked around my room announcing it was time to get up, as he does every day, but I wanted to get more sleep because I’ve been in different time zones two of the last three weeks and I’m tired. He finally left and I got more sleep. I’m up now with the sound of the dishwasher chugging and birds chirring in the trees outside. At some point I’ll go outside to sit on our small deck or patio and just look at the sky and listen to the birds. It will be quiet, not silent. If I can silence the chatter in my head that will be a gift.

Over the last year I’ve become aware of the insidious fatphobia throughout US society and how I’ve been acculturated to judge bodies–including and especially my own–as “good” or “bad” based on size. I’ve been growing for several years in my understanding of racism, ableism, and other forms of injustice. Recognition that sizeism exists and has very real effects is one thing–fighting it with respect to my own body is another, harder battle. Lots of opportunities for continuing to grow in self-awareness and checking my own thoughts. Being grateful for all the amazing things my body does without me even thinking about it–breathing! digesting! growing antibodies!–helps me in this.

Last night my husband and I watched a Jeanne Robertson video–a former Miss North Carolina who delivers very gentle stand-up comedy in a Southern drawl. This wasn’t one joke after another–more of a motivational/funny talk at Elon College. She talked about where she finds her humorous stories and it’s simple: She puts “find humor in something today” on her to-do list every day.

I find this a really wonderful idea and we could do the same with playfulness and adventure (similar to Laura’s note below–every day can be an adventure as each one is brand new). Today for me involves some gardening, cleaning, and thinking through a draft kitchen remodel. I’ll figure out some way to add play along the way.

I love movies and I know some have left me sitting in silence, crying or processing. Trying to think of them right now I’m coming up short, for some reason. I have to start by saying The Princess Bride would be my “cast away on a desert island but somehow with electricity so you can watch it” movie.

Several have mentioned It’s a Wonderful Life. That gave me the realization at a young age that everyone touches many lives and we may not even recognize the effect we have on others. I lose sight of that at time so it’s good to be reminded.

12 Angry Men reinforced that you should stick up for what’s right even if many voices tell you you’re wrong.

The Elephant Man taught me not to judge people based on appearance.

Gran Torino told me never to give up on an old racist–they may still have room for change.

District 9 didn’t change my perspective but is such a powerful portrayal of racism and again, someone’s capacity for change when they learn to see another as worthy of respect.

West Side Story taught me that when humans divide into packs based on perceived differences or affiliations, tragedy ensues.

Lots of science fiction and a bit of horror taught me never to go into the empty house or the dark hallway, not to assume aliens are friendly, and to be ready for the zombie apocalypse. (If I really were ready for the zompoc I’d also be fully prepared for the earthquakes that are likely in my part of the world, the Pacific Northwest, so that’s not a bad takeaway.)

To be honest I wouldn’t say I do this for daily activities. I bring attention, yes, awareness, mindfulness, focus, appreciation–although I’m with Kevin on not devoting too much of myself to the toilet-cleaning task. Get ‘er done, that’s what I say. But reverence… that’s a bigger lift. Merriam-Webster definition says “profound adoring awed respect”. I think I’ve been reserving that level for things in the natural world. (In that vein I’ll share this poem link in part for the poem itself, in part for the gorgeous time lapse video of plants growing at the top of the page https://www.ayearofbeinghere.com/2015/05/sharron-crowson-prayer-for-another.html). Or for the labors of others that make it possible for me to drink my morning coffee and eat food I didn’t grow, as another category of moments when I might pause and think more deeply. I’m going to have to think about reverence.

By noticing, then expressing my appreciation directly and specifically. At work, not just “good job facilitating!” but “I really appreciated the way you kept that moving along while making sure people got the chance to speak and listen.” At home, being sure I thank my husband for everyday tasks I could easily take for granted, not only for the big efforts. I appreciate him vacuuming and I appreciate him building my raised garden beds. In the world, by thanking people for their service or kindness or for wearing something beautiful that I can compliment, which is a form of gratitude. When I say “I love your scarf!” I’m expressing gratitude for their choice to wear it that day and to bring that color into my life and the lives of others around them.

My first reflex was that I have been given so much for which to be grateful that it makes me more compassionate toward those who haven’t been so fortunate. But that makes it sound as if compassion is a byproduct of my privilege and that compassion involves an “up/down” orientation in our respective circumstances. It’s still true at one level–I *have* been given much, I feel compassion toward those in less fortunate circumstances. But it’s also humanity reaching toward humanity, being centered in myself and in the world and able to recognize the “thou” in others regardless of whether one of us is seemingly more fortunate than the other.

We also moved in part to get to a quieter place–smaller town, quiet neighborhood. Part of the home-buying process involved me standing outside and just listening to how much traffic noise I could hear. This ruled out a lot of houses.
Now we have quiet. Not silence, because I can always hear birds. At night an owl hoots outside from the large nearby park. Sometimes when I walk in the park and the wind blows strongly it’s like listening to the ocean only it’s above my head, while down on the path it stays quieter. I treasure that.