As we unfold, as we allow and try to heal, as we look at what no longer serves us well, what matters most is how we process and mindfully move through anything that comes our way. To come back to a place of equanimity so we can make choices and decisions that feel grounded, authentic, and conscious, this is how we can do the best we can.
In my mind, no other emotion exposes my hidden truth more than anger. Anger, in all its fury, is powerful enough to turn us into something we are not, clandestine enough to hide and fester in our subconscious, and intense enough to bring explosive and destructive consequences, causing more shame, regret, pain, and grief.
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It’s the fur-lined hollow I look for, the soft space between panic and sleep that rocks me gently back to deeper waves of stillness. After all these years, you’d think we’d have this down pat by now. Those moments of sheer bliss, where fear and anxiety don’t exist had me fooled into thinking I’d never see them again, until I do. The stories that say we can rid ourselves of fear, anxiety, ego and doubt forever if we just do this or that, take this or that, become this or that, read this or that, heal this or that…are they true? Maybe for some. Maybe for some for a time. Maybe for others not even close. We are so different, and so many of us have experienced pain in ways that seem un-healable. So we search and search for something that makes it all better, something to help us heal. Perhaps it’s not a thing we have to become to heal. Perhaps what needs to change is perspective, and redefine what healing means.
Death and being with the dying has taught me this. Healing doesn’t always mean fixing. Healing does not always mean all better. Healing means a sanctuary of wholeness within the confines of our human and mortal body, within the confines of all the challenges that have changed us permanently. Healing means knowing how to come back to ourselves, to the essence of who we really are as a soul having a human experience. To come back to the things that authentically love and nurture us, even when we are still broken, even when fear and sadness tells you to run and hide.
It takes courage to do this. It takes resilience and vulnerability. It takes changing the definition of what “okay” looks like. It takes seeking joy and the pleasures of laughter and community, especially when it’s hard to look at yourself in the mirror. Maybe a phone call. Maybe a short visit by a friend. Maybe a terrible movie that gets you out of the house to feel the fresh air again. In this time, when pain and suffering are so readily available, when ego is so ready to pounce and take over our hearts and minds by never feeling enough, we fight back and say “NO” by leaning in to that soft place. That beautiful fur-lined space where we feel totally, utterly and lovingly held by grace and goodness, so that we may, once again, know ourselves.
Learn more about how to start your own gratitude practice in our guide.
Gratitude is not the same thing as happiness. Happiness is the sweet layer on top, the moments that comes with icing and sprinkles. But gratitude is something more. A wisdom that exists far below the surface, in the darker places, the places excavated by deep dives and less oxygen. Gratitude cannot be turned on like a light switch, nor is it meant to be a quick fix. It can't be "taught" to children, nor is it an ideal that can be used to incur shame. Gratitude is not a consolation prize. Gratitude is not a "fake it until you make it" or an “act as if” practice. Authentic gratitude, the kind that stirs like a rumble from deep within our core, is showing up to truth in a way that does not circumvent pain, replace loss, or negate the everyday existence of grief.
In a world where terrible things happen hourly, when things can suck at anytime, when grieving loss is a part of every single day of our lives, gratitude is not a cure all. It can be a life preserver, but it doesn't fix anything. Sometimes it comes easy, sometimes it doesn't come at all. The truth is, gratitude is usually found in the things that never last, the impermanent things, the things we get to hold for brief, savory moments, moments lined with the wisdom of knowing we'll eventually need to let it all go. Some might argue that it's only when we lose these things, that we begin to learn what gratitude really is.
By walking through challenge, by fumbling around lost in the dark, by losing the ones we love, by enduring pain, by knowing grief will never disappear, by living with unfairness and witnessing injustice, through anger, through doing the hard work of keeping it together, or falling apart, through surrender and forgiveness, only then do we get to know wisdom, only then do we get to know what it is we truly live for, only then do we get to feel gratitude at layers deep within our soul. Through these layers, through practice and presence, gratitude is an evolution of being, and a way of feeling, knowing we can never have it all, and finding love for something...everything, anyway.
Learn more about how to start your own gratitude practice in our guide.
Now, more than ever, we need to remember WHY we are grateful. It's almost too much to bear, the collective grief happening everywhere I look. Some days the sorrow is too deep to muster the energy to write a brand new gratitude. So I don't. I accept the state of where I am and instead, borrow a gratitude from last year. I grab a used Pockitude journal, open randomly and read.
The memories and gratitudes collected in these journals reminds me that joy still sits with me, and can co-exist in consciousness with grief, and anger, the madness in this world. The act of taking the time to read and remember is a gratitude itself, and a form of self care. Today, I am grateful for the treasure trove of memories written permanently in these journals. August 2017: Blooming sunflowers in the community gardens. Why? Because I am reminded to turn my face to the sun and bloom.
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Learn more about how to start your own gratitude practice in our guide.
I stopped telling my kids that all I want for them is to be happy. Happy is great, happy has been the long held standard for a satisfactory life. As long as we are happy, all is well. I call BS on that. I’ve been happy plenty of times, and I love it when I’m happy, but happy is fleeting, and like most wonderful things, aren’t meant to last. I want to teach my kids what to do when happy isn’t available, when things just suck and we are trying to survive a mess of a day. What I tell them is Exhale, and Thank you.
There are all kinds of breathing techniques to help anxiety, or anger, but for me, it’s the exhale I long for. The extended, exaggerated, vocal exhale that releases me. We do it subconsciously with sighs, a semi-muted expression of discomfort. Forget the sighs. Bring on the guttural flow of carbon dioxide. Exhale the nasty, exhale the yuck, exhale the sad madness of it all. And then, and here’s where it really counts-- say “thank you”.
Thank you sun, thank you breath, thank you end of the day, thank you pillow, thank you stars, thank you sunset. Thank you for life lived another day. Thank you for reminding me that if I can make it through days without happy, I can make it through anything. Gratitude is the life preserver that keeps us above the water, keeps us moving, just long enough until happy circles back around again.
Learn more about how to start your own gratitude practice in our guide.
