Thursday, November 24, 2011

thankfullness won't flow from a clogged faucet

jeez, not only did i wake feeling no gratitude, i felt absolutely resentful. why do i have to pull on my socks, straighten the bed, pour cereal in a bowl? can't somebody do all this for me? I mean, the president has a butler, clothes all laid out and he's helped into them. the cook brings the tangy coffee. his wife wipes his glasses and says, 'honey, is there anything more i can do for you?'

my anthropology teacher in college said, 'we live better than any kings in history before 1900.' and as i watch toddlers wheeled to the market in fancy strollers which could be  first class on an airplane, i think, 'enjoy it now. you'll never be royalty again.' so, i suppose i have to admit being spoiled. yet, it doesn't seem that way. the more i can buy, the more comfortable i get, the worse  my selfishness and ingratitude. 

i'm trying to cook up a little thankfulness. really, it depends upon vulnerability. when i'm injured and the doctor solves the problem, i feel relieved. that is his job, of course, thus i can't completely experience the indebtedness i should feel. or when my mother bathed me after i crapped in my pants during a spelling test in the second grade, stumped by the word 'of,' i experienced more pain than pleasure. however, now, i do appreciate the touch of her hands. 

okay, that's where i have to start. unless i can not only forgive my parents for bringing me into this world, i must muster some thanks. you see, life's a mixed bag. how can i thank them for the pain, the pleasure, the roller-coast of emotions and fortune, especially the tension i normally feel within me? and if i can't appreciate being born, how can i possibly be genuine in my embracing fate? 

hmm, so far it hasn't worked. let me try another route. what events, people, etc have moved me. i stumble across these pictures of 'hollywood babylon', a production by winston colgan. the show truly moved me and i still have the sensations. perhaps cause i loved judy garland in 'the wizard of oz'. maybe due to the father-son playing leads and the conflict true. and then again, most of us feel like dwarves in a world of big people, particularly when we're children.

as i look thru my pictures, past and present, little bells of joy go off.  i love the dancers, i remember the 11 year old hiking into the ruins of canyon de chelly and how good the oranges tasted in the heat. and my mother feigning great delight as i climb onto my christmas tricycle. aye, there's the rub. i got that vehicle stuck in the grass and wailed til she came and pulled me free. yes, it's mostly about mothers, all this, the ambiguities of thanksgiving. lucky the ones who've had a near-death experience and making the choice to come back, take responsibility for their lives.