giving thanks, part 2

your choice in the moment

Whatever it is we do, and whoever it is we are, we can all be certain of one thing… some moments along our timeline will be more challenging than others.

This is the nature of life. It changes. Whether we want to or not, we change with it.

Often, in those daunting moments, we want a quick fix. Maybe we prefer to ignore it. Maybe we anticipate failure. Sometimes, we give it up for someone else to resolve.

Occasionally, we forget entirely about the nature of change and start to think of the timeline itself as the problem. We’re not sure we can endure the ongoingness of it, we may think, with a heave and a sigh. We may even want to cut it short.

Double sigh.

It’s those sighs, see, that are telling us the real story. Those sighs are the whispers of our watchful souls. They call for our attention. Here, they say, is a door to your essential treasury.

Get inside and explore!

It’s our job to figure out the locks. (Or the gates, bars, barricades we’ve erected to protect the goods.)

(Query: did we put up all those defenses to protect ourselves from the goods? Hmm.)

Either way, our ever watchful souls know the wealth in our reserves. They know our resources are the source of our resilience. They also know our resistance limits our access.

The only barrier we’ll ever face to the abundance of our well-being is our unwillingness to dismantle it. While there are many ways to tear down a wall, the one that works best, in my audacious opinion, is gratitude.

This can be difficult work. No doubt. But consider… what if you paused at the moment of provocation and decided, ‘I’m really grateful for this provocation.’ What happens then?

We have a choice.

Consider your posture toward those events and people toward which you feel very grateful. What do you do? I’ll bet a quarter you don’t cower or rebel. When we’re grateful, we stand with our ever watchful souls at our back. When we’re feeling low, unsure, sighing, there is our soul, urging us to draw upon and apply our vast resources to open those doors to uncharted terrain.

I had this experience yesterday: I sat alone on the bus. A passenger sat beside me. He immediately started to curse. He kept yelling, ‘torture.’ I closed my eyes, felt my breath, and softened my shoulders. I decided to be grateful— for the moment, for him, for the space in time we shared. This man hurt in a way I couldn’t fathom but could experience beside him. He was rigid with fear, hot with frustration.

You may think this is woo-woo but bear with me.

In my resources, I carry the precious light of love. I wrapped it around this man. I sat beside him imagining each of us protected by the light of love.

In a moment, he took his deep breath and relaxed. He fell asleep for the remainder of the trip. We got off at the same stop and he was all courtesy as he let me pass.

I’m so grateful I got to learn with him what the moment asked of us both.

‘What if,’ I hear you muttering, ‘I have no resources?’

To which I reply, sincerely, ‘ah, you’ve called upon the resource of doubt!’

Doubt is always important for caution. It may not, however, be the right resource to employ for curious engagement.

Let’s try again. This time, with the vast power of your open heart. Because, truly, you are wealthy beyond measure. You, by virtue of being alive and capable of even reading this sentence on whatever device beaming into your eyes, are overflowing with prosperity.

Just notice for a moment: your presence, right where you are, means that you’ve acquired personal resources of determination, attention, choice, courage, adventure, connection, patience, kindness, and learning. So much! You couldn’t have made it to this point in your life without at least these, used at least sometimes.

So let’s use a few now. Kindly consider the following.

While it may be that difficulty is here (it is also there… and over there, too), the surest remedy for difficulty is our ability to see it differently. For this, we have to choose. Let’s learn about choice: it is a precious resource and we all share it.

In the Yoga Sutra of Patanjali, this is called pratipaksha bhavanam. We purposefully shift our perspective.

Here’s an example. I spill milk. I cry over it. My misery will cast its shadow on whatever comes next, which may include the way I behave toward myself, my family, my friends. If, instead, I spill milk (maybe cry a moment) and then choose to see it differently, I may discover an opportunity to clean the floor or to simply admire the whiteness of the puddle. Notice the resilience, curiosity and creativity in the effort.

I can hear someone protesting, ‘but it’s the last of the milk!’ Well, then, how nice to have a reason to go to the store for more or to choose another treat, or both. Note: adventure.

Now, instead of sitting in our misery, potentially muddying up our own and everyone else’s day, we’ve chosen a different way.

What if we pause here and thank ourselves and whatever milk we or anyone else has spilled for the adventures it offered? What if we appreciate the conditions that led us to consult with our resources, apply them, and grow a smidge? What if we say thank you to our resources?

In every bit of growth, we expand our horizon.

What do we know about horizons?

I’ll go first… they show us our vast potential. They remind us of faith. We don’t know what’s out there but in that unknowing, we spot the solace of possibility. We observe the persistence of change— the sun setting… again— and its beauty. Just like little oranges waiting to burst from blossoms, marriages that bloom from friendship, and adventures that ripen with failure, our human experience is a constant transformation.

So let’s wisely listen to our sighs, and gratefully appreciate the challenge of every changing moment.

How shall I say this gently? We have work to do. We have a role to play, and when it feels especially difficult, we’re called to be especially resourceful. We have a contribution to make to life.

Put another way, life wants our participation. What if we say thank you for the invitation?

This is the continuation of a gratitude practice.

Give your best self to the hard times and discover how much better you become.

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We all walk this common ground. I wrote a bunch of love poems to fortify us as we traverse the peaceful and treacherous terrain. I invite you to support this mission of walking together by buying and sharing the book with friends and strangers on your path.