More than turkey with gravy, chestnut stuffing, or pumpkin pie, the thing I most look forward to at Thanksgiving dinner is the “The Ten Second Miracle;” that moment when the person carving the turkey says, “Let’s go around the table and say what each of us is grateful for this year.”
You’ll hear groans, and someone will mutter, “This is so corny.” Then, you’ll take ten seconds to stop and think about what you’re going to say.
The room becomes quiet as each person relates the one thing that keeps them getting out of bed each morning. It’s guaranteed that the closer you are to being at the end of the group, the more emotional and heartfelt your gratitude statement will be.
Why don’t we give ourselves the small, precious gift of ten seconds every day to be thankful for something specific? Gratitude is a powerful force, capable of mending fences and harvesting hope. Gratitude has saved more lives than we’ll ever know.
My wish for you this Thanksgiving is the gift of freedom to share your gratitude with the ones you love, and an open mind to receive the ideas of others, even when they seem foreign to you.
May you carry the gratitude of the Thanksgiving holiday with you every day of your life.
Last evening, as the puppies played in the backyard, I pulled my hoodie up over my head and lay back on the small expanse of grass near the master bedroom. The sun was setting, sending the last bright light of evening upward.
As I looked up, my eye caught what I first thought to be some kind of sky writing. Was that a crooked smiley face I was seeing? I suddenly realized it was a flock of white birds, flying in a loose, curved formation. They were so high up that I could barely make them out; but they had to have been large birds because I could see wing movement as they flew. The sun caught them from underneath, tinging their wings with a shimmering coat of silver.
I thought they might be pelicans, but now know they must have been Great White Egrets on their way south, to winter near Tucson. They migrate from Canada, and have been noted in record numbers throughout southern Arizona over the last couple of years.
The moment filled me with a rare sense of peace of joy; I stared after them until the sun no longer held them.
If I hadn’t been on my back looking straight up, I’d never have seen them.
What else, besides satellites and meteors, flies so silently overhead, undetected?
There it sits. So shiny, so symmetrical, so inviting: an entire year, just for me.
Yes, I’m that lucky. But more on that later.
In 2013, I’ll be taking a sabbatical from the business world so that I can tromp around that arid region of my brain called Creativity. I’ll take the tottering, first steps toward honing the craft of writing while reflecting just what the fuck it is I’ve been doing in these first 51 years of my life.
I want to see if I love writing as much as I’ve told everyone I do. I want to enjoy the process, but will be happy if I can just learn how to live with the process.
This is a first step toward documenting the year ahead.