November 28, 2013 Candace Morris 0 Comments

Hey Birds,
What have you got cookin' in that thankful cooker of yours? Pour moi:

Creature Comforts: I've been struck by this quite a bit lately.  My warm house, my lovely antiques, my wine budget, my car with heated seats, my heavy quilt made my Joel's late grandmother, my nail polish collection, my cozy couch, my large TV, my access to any information I may want to know, my computer and internet access, my jadite mug, my gorgeous books, my proximity and ability to acquire some of the best coffee in the country, my stroller, the lake one mile from my house where Bowie and I walk, the donut shop two blocks away, my large cardigan and shoe collection, my hot baths, my peppercorn candle, our cooking salts collection, my access to quality food, the neighborhood where I can get almost anything I want within 10 miles, my smartphone, my important camera.

Privilege: That I have the luxury of time to reflect upon my life. I do not take this for granted; this has been affecting me profoundly of late. That my birth, race, income bracket - all of these things merge to support my dreams.  The advantage is large, and I am eager to share it well with others through self-awareness, charity work, time, money, community service, education, and teaching my daughter the same.

Therapy: For the healing power of speaking into secret, shadowy places. Though nothing may be fixed per say, an immeasurable amount of relief and release results in speaking without a filter to an objective party.

Written Word: The words that compile my inner dialogue behave like caged children clawing to get out of the classroom for recess, scratching at my eyes and hands to be released of this suffocating, limiting mind.  That I have the means, the working hands, the brain function, and the talent to express myself  - I really am supremely thankful.  I believe I would have died young without it.

My Mother-in-Law:  Last Monday, a few hours before Joel would be coming home to help, I reached a scary point with Bowie.  She was frustrating, demanding, teething, not listening, and otherwise being illogical.  I was maxed out on being a Mother.  In order to combat this, I had already a self-date in place for Tuesday, attending my writer's group.  Joel's mom agreed to watch her, so I was prepared to drive 45min 4x that day, for a total of 3 hours driving. I do this a lot, they watch her so I can keep sane and I am happy to do it.  A few minutes after I experienced ultimate frustration with Bowie, I got an email from Jean saying that she wanted to drive up so I didn't have to - just to love on me.  This action, though small, changed my entire outlook.  I heard the cosmos say through her, "You are not alone."

Sentient Mind and Physical Health: I like my mind, that it is self-aware, that it can look up and ponder its own existence.  I appreciate the gift of physical mobility and health.

Quality of relationships: To have met and shared a reciprocal love with people who crave the same depth of relationship as I is very, very rare. To have physical reminders of their love - letters, words, texts, emails, gifts.  It's overwhelming - especially when I think of all the humans suffering in loneliness and isolation.  If I persist in these feelings, it is of my own doing - not because I am truly alone.

The feeling of Bowie intentionally hugging me: When you give your body, soul, spirit, resources, career, energy, sleep, mental health, time, and patience to a small being that continues to suck it out of you day after day, it can be hard to give yourself the personal rewards necessary for continuing.  This was Bowie's first year of life.  But as we progress toward toddlerhood and she stops to hug me, wants to cuddle with me, pats me gently in the dark night while I hold her, sighs with utter relaxation and security - this is a feeling like I've never known.  It feels good.  She is bright, charming, clever, and pensive.  

For Phoenix: This peanut kills me.  So perfectly sad and bright and smart and independent...for the healing she has brought to her parents.

Happy Thanksgiving, Turkeys.

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