Saturday, 26 February 2011

Gratitude: The Quality Of Being Thank-Full.

What is it that happens to us when Spring arrives? What is it? Does our heart stretch out it's tender wings, flutter them tentatively in the warming air, do we pause and take a breath? Do we raise our heads in wonder, suddenly aware that Winter's teeth no longer snap at our heels?

We have had a busy, muddy week of no Jay, no school and lots of friends. Wonderful, thoughtful friends, who took us up mountains and on adventures, took us into their homes and fed us, (even though it sometimes feels to me that we arrive like an small invading country!), aware of our lack of Jay again and eager to be of help, dear ones that they are.

And although the first few days of the midterm break were soggy downpour sorts of days, all we really noticed were the carpet of purple crocuses in a corner of the garden, the sudden green tips on the rosebushes outside the open window that seemed to nod in a giddy, skittish way at us, and most of all the air and the light! Oh most wondrous light!

We spent our days traipsing and tramping, splashing through mud and puddles, or gathered around tables and sharing food together. We laughed and talked and deepened our bonds. And I watched, my heart swelling with quiet joy, as our dearlings, both big and small, forged their own, without knowing and without pretense. Their openhearted offerings of friendship to one another a reassuring inspiration.

Lately I find myself thinking about gratitude, thinking about the act of thankfulness and how it is manifested each day in our lives, or not. Of how we need to remind ourselves to be grateful, to be Full of Thanks, and that really, to live a life that embodies this would be a life truly worth living. It is an attainment I hope for and aim for, and need daily reminders for.
I no longer sit and meditate. I haven't for years. The daily rush of family life took over and it slipped quietly away. But in recent years I found a new way, a way that fit into the little slivers of time I found. Living each day with a knowledge that I would be writing about it here, on Milkmoon, has created a little sitting buddha in my head, a mindfully aware little buddha who gently prods me, reminds me to pause and take note. To be thankful. Even when, like any practice, it is a struggle, as it has been of late.

But then you, dear readers, in your own way, you are reminding me too. We are all prompting and prodding one another each day when we blog, sharing our individual moments of gratitude, putting it out there. And just today I read dear Rima's latest post which is on this very subject, which left me wondering just what this blogging we are all doing is creating for the future? An exciting and blog-affirming thought!

And so, this sunny morning I sit at my table with a pot of coffee, the window open, the quiet house just beginning to stir, and I think back through my week and how this little family's thread danced and crisscrossed and wove with so many others, and how the threads here in the Forest of Blog also weave together into another, different layer in my life, and how both will continue to do so, on and on and on, into who knows where.
And I am filled with gratitude, and a renewed sense of purpose.

Thank You.

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

Through My Window.

 I am here, drinking in the tiny smidgeons of extra light we find waiting at the window in the morning, that deepening blue that seems to draw the dawn into it impatiently, soaking up the light, making a promise.

It does the heart good to open the door and let the breeze in, let the little ones out, to not have to hear myself say repeatedly throughout the day, 'Close the doooor!!!'  To have a window open and for it to be pleasant.

There is still a nip in the air, and we've had a lot of wind and rain, but take a little wander around the garden and there are crocuses hiding in the grass, and the rose bushes are covered in tiny green buds, and children dashing past and oh, yes, it does the heart good.

And I give thanks.
Because I do find this time of year the hardest. It's when I want to walk away from this old house of ours, from the cold and the endless upkeep and repairs, from the hours spent driving, and the way my time is eaten into.
But everyday brings something magic that still catches me unaware, (even if only this view from my window) as though for the first time ever, and holds me there, at the beginning of joy once again.

And although I am still struggling to find the time and the inspiration to blog, it has not escaped my awareness that blogging is my magnifying glass to magic.
And that is worth more than I can say!