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Gratefulness
Amo Ergo Sum — that’s the hope.
Can a paradox be a feeling? Often when I feel love to the world it’s because I am “close” to something: a person, a beautiful garden/tree/river, and then the sense of love wells up, and the experience is that all other thoughts, feelings, objects are moved “far” from my conscienceless. The experience is a pleasant and unsolicited singular focus on that which is causing the experience of love in this world.
How exactly does that take shape? Not sure how to...
How exactly does that take shape? Not sure how to tackle that question until I have another cup of coffee…
Lewis Carroll said it best, as the words on the page I read scream, “You don’t know much and that’s a fact.”
I tend to focus more on the ‘what’ (as in, this is what I am grateful for or what gift is this?) and the ‘why’ (amateur philosophy and sophomoric curiosity, ‘why am I so lucky,’ or why did God bless me with X?) than the how.
Though I, and all that I think and don’t think, do and don’t do, say and don’t say will in equal measures pass away with me, I still feel there’s the gift of contribution that continues after me. Might as...
Though I, and all that I think and don’t think, do and don’t do, say and don’t say will in equal measures pass away with me, I still feel there’s the gift of contribution that continues after me. Might as well know where I stand, stand there and be grateful for that.
Failure. Especially my own failures, break my heart. The motivation this spurs is not always healthy as “diminishing,” “concealing,” “rationalizing,” or even acknowledging failure as a motive to not try or to welcome indifference are all in the repertoire.
‘Joys and sorrows mingled, one succeeding the other.’ – Catherine McAuley
It seems that when I envelope myself in the world’s turmoil, and get tunnel vision, seeing only the turmoil and feeling only the strife or sorrow, joy is reintroduced to my line of sight by someone else: a joke, a song, someone walking by me with a smile on their face. That’s relatable joy.
I am stubborn. I have learned that… and with some regularity (usually through a hard lesson) I re-learn that.
In the morning, as I leave for work, I tell my six year old, “What are we going to do today?” And thanks to wrote memorization she responds, “Listen, learn lots, and do good great.”
At bed time, I ask her, “Now, did we listen; did we learn lots; what did we do that was great?”
It’s not explicit, but usually there’s an act or a story recounted that was predicated on gratefulness or conversely an act or a story where listening, lear...
It’s not explicit, but usually there’s an act or a story recounted that was predicated on gratefulness or conversely an act or a story where listening, learning, or doing good great didn’t happen and one can draw the conclusion that those instances lacked gratitude.
Additionally, the first question at our call-and-response bed time prayers with my daughter is this, “Did you have a good day?”
If she responds, “yes,” I then say, “what do you say to God?” She responds, “Thank you.”
If she responds, “no,” I then say, “what do you say to God?” She responds, “Thank you.”
Some days a terrible awful and no good in whole or in part but at the end of each day as I pray with my daughter we together remind ourselves to be grateful for each day regardless of it’s joys or sorrows mingled.
It’s been beat into my brain: God is Love (Deus Caritas est). And I’m not going to disagree. However… flailing Catholic that I am, God may well be love, but God is relationship vis-a-vis the Trinity, too. As such, I have loved well when love is animated by or works together with trust. Trust — be it hope or faith — is outside of my control. When I speak or write an email and I say, “I trust you are well,” it’s the same thing as saying “I hope you are well.” Likewise, when ...
It’s been beat into my brain: God is Love (Deus Caritas est). And I’m not going to disagree. However… flailing Catholic that I am, God may well be love, but God is relationship vis-a-vis the Trinity, too. As such, I have loved well when love is animated by or works together with trust. Trust — be it hope or faith — is outside of my control. When I speak or write an email and I say, “I trust you are well,” it’s the same thing as saying “I hope you are well.” Likewise, when I say, “I believe you can do this,” it’s the same as, “I have faith in you.”
Love may be a priori of/for God but for me, love is best when it’s not alone but with trust: trust that love or my expression of love matters, is of value, is communicated well, and received, is helpful, is good regardless of how it’s received.
All that to say: I love best when I trust and trust is just as vulnerable as love.
There’s your word salad for the morning.
Let go gratefully? Yikes. I’ve still much to learn in that department.
As someone who seeks abundance (both in a spiritual sense, but yes also in the more problematic capitalistic sense) sufficiency is hard to identify because when you’re seeking abundance, most everything measures up to insufficient.
I tell my daughter when she’s pouring out ranch dressing, “that’s sufficient.” It has become somewhat of an inside joke because I say it so often. “Dad said sufficient!” And then her little brother chimes in, “...
I tell my daughter when she’s pouring out ranch dressing, “that’s sufficient.” It has become somewhat of an inside joke because I say it so often. “Dad said sufficient!” And then her little brother chimes in, “Sufficient, sufficient!”
So, beyond a sufficient supply of ranch dressings, I would say my family is sufficient as is their love, humor, and compassion.
Doubt teaches me that my faith, at present, is strong but not indefatigable. I think doubt also teaches that my faith is still living, growing, questioning, and more often than not open to the spirit and signs of the time and not just a blind, closed-off, static faith.
I suppose it would be less me, less victimhood of me, and more others and what I ought to do to help, ease, or end the difficulties of others.
Creative writing; a walk on a new trail; with my six year old and three year old when I’m not being a curmudgeon.
Community and the theorizing, discussing, planning, and perhaps even building of community.
I can reflect before I speak (or email). I can be more precise in my word choices so that I’m not unnecessarily heavier, draining, or frustrating — taking more effort and energy than needed — from those I am communicating with. I am presuming that those I am communicating with are folks I treasure.
Evening Prayers. Though I used to do regular morning prayers from a psalter pre-pandemic. I should pick that up again.
Sitting and silence for a few minutes in the evening helps. To some extent this, focus on gratitude in the morning helps too. I’ll have to keep examining what practices I am doing but not identifying.
Maturity. Maturity is the tall, wide, trunk of a tree and one cannot get that healthy, tall, wide, trunk without a little time, and without good roots that hold it in place, and drink up the life giving water under the soil; roots that enable maturity include patience, love, kindness, discretion, knowledge, and light-heartedness.
Well worded, succinct questions; right now that question is: What do I owe others? Believing I am my brother’s keeper, believing that humans are communitarian, social, group-bound creatures, I need to take stock, or “look directly at my life as it is,” and realize what I have, how it is supported, and what of it I can share.
Also my children by nature of their innocence (and questions) unknowingly support me in looking at my life as it is: blessed though defect filled...
Also my children by nature of their innocence (and questions) unknowingly support me in looking at my life as it is: blessed though defect filled.
Go for a walk (sans music); go for a quiet walk. “But I cannot, I have X, Y, Z, to do.” And I should respond, I will do X, Y, Z for you. Go take 30 minutes to walk.
While I’ve improved in my acknowledgement and understanding that life is change, in flux, evolving, growing, et cetera, I have not improved in my knee-jerk and fearful reaction that follows the acknowledgement that I do not know what will happen. I want to plan and to have a process and timeline in place. There it is, “I” and “want” rather than “it” and “is”.
When I can chip away at the fear, and stubbornness, perhaps I’ll se...
When I can chip away at the fear, and stubbornness, perhaps I’ll see the possibilities.
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