I think I'm going to do most of my blogging over here for the next few weeks.
A disjointed but nevertheless connected concoction of thoughts:
Some weeks ago I heard myself saying out loud, "I don't want to be grateful to God for anything." I knew, even as I made that statement, that it was a bad sign. It's a beginner's mantra, that gratitude is the foundation of any spiritual life, in any tradition. But I didn't take back what I said.
Of course, we are all beginners, always. Fortunately I remembered that, before I turned on myself as well as the world at large.
Then a few of the RevGals started to post ABCs of gratitude, something, or a list of somethings, every day or so. Hrrrumph, I muttered to myself, in my best imitation of Scrooge. (Actually, what I said, possibly even out loud, was something closer to an emphatically italicized and enlarged "B.S.")
Then I went on retreat. I had practically counted the minutes, all through summer Hebrew, looking longingly at pictures and imagining a respite of silence and perhaps even the company of God. And then my five days there manifested another form of desert: a parched and unsettling place in which I couldn't breathe.
And now, I can hardly look up or incline my ear without someone saying, "Almost the first anniversay." Two emails today alone: "How are you?
Well, I am OK. Since returning home, I have avoided that raw place inside, the one that simply will not be healed yet. I think I'll know when I can take another look, but this month probably isn't the time. I need something else right now, and I'm heading for the gratitude thing.
Not every day. Not alphabetically. Or poetically or literarily or musically or gracefully. Or even consistently. Just whatever I can manage.
Coming to a blog near you: Gannet's Non-Bullshit Gratitude. Photo illustrations courtesy of The Retreat that Wasn't.