The Mindful Gratitude Thread

skelly

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I am grateful that, at my age, I still care about the things that I cared about when I was a child. I am grateful to have a family, as small as it may be, and that we have food in our stomachs, a roof over our head, and our health. I'm grateful for the people that I have met and the friends that I have made on this board. Thank you Mac.
 

Maryn

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This is small-time compared to most, but I'm grateful I didn't get lost on my way to and from A New Place. By the time I learn my way around this city, I'll be too old for driving, feels like. But today, success!

Maryn, who shopped alone, which isn't much fun
 

Fi Webster

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I'm enormously grateful today that a scholar named Matthew Hollis has written a very long, outrageously comprehensive, book on T. S. Eliot's composition (with Ezra Pound's help) of his groundbreaking modernist poem "The Wasteland." It's a huge heavy hardback with an arresting dust jacket I look forward to chopping up for one of my paper-&-glue collages (yes, I shamelessly admit I do that sort of thing). It even has a built-in bookmark—a snazzy red ribbon attached to the binding, which my cats are trying their best to destroy. If I can fight them off and keep the ribbon intact, I'll also paste it in my celebratory collage.

1603-C3-DB-6-BB7-4646-934-B-CB637-D017-F0-C.jpg


I didn't know when I ordered this book that it was going to be an over-the-top wondrous Christmas present to myself, but OMG... after reading the first 50 pages yesterday after it arrived, I see that it truly is. While "The Wasteland" is not my Numero Uno favorite of Eliot's poems (that would be "East Coker"), it's been a big part of my intellectual life since the early 1970s. I am OOT thrilled to dive into learning an unnecessary abundance of details about it.

I have a friend who majored in chemistry at MIT during a time when that university was extremely misogynistic (for all I know, it still is). She says the way she survived those four years was to recite "The Wasteland" every day under her breath as she walked across campus. I can identify with that. It's more than a poem: it's like a surrealist manifesto, a collection of imagery and ideas that can buttress one's will against a sea of troubles.

Now, to be able to read a 400-page line-by-line exegesis of this poem, complete with full psychological, social, historical, lit-critical, and biographical context, plus 150 pages of footnotes and bibliography, is more than a mere book for me. This is an event. It's a gift from the gods. (Yes, I'm weird—but no weirder than any other nerd deeply into some pop-cultural phenom. I mean, think of all the folks who can speak Klingon, High Valyrian, Na'vi...)

So... Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! I hope tonight will be for you a very dark and bleak longest night of the year, followed by rejoicing at the return of the Sun, as the days start getting longer again. Or, as pagans like me say, Have a Cool Yule! My husband and I and a few pagan friends will be doing what we do every year: keeping a Yule log burning in the fireplace as we hold a vigil all night long, telling and reading stories aloud to stay awake. Then we'll go outside at dawn to wave at the rising sun and do silly stuff like singing the Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun."

There are multiple ways of saying Happy Winter Solstice in Gaelic. For example, Grianstad a' Gheimridh Sásta. I find Gaelic utterly unpronounceable, even with aids, so I usually just blur it into some bastardized American version of Happy Midwinter, like "Happy Moongeeree."
 
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The Guinea Pigs of Doom escaped from their house yesterday, and ran into the garden, and I put some treats in the door of their enclosure and oh, I do wish you could have seen them all in a little crocodile row waddling back in there and having a party.

Guinea Pigs are less adventurous than I had thought. I'm grateful for that.
 

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The Guinea Pigs of Doom escaped from their house yesterday, and ran into the garden, and I put some treats in the door of their enclosure and oh, I do wish you could have seen them all in a little crocodile row waddling back in there and having a party.

Guinea Pigs are less adventurous than I had thought. I'm grateful for that.
Did the lead guinea pig say, 'Lettuce eat!'?
 

skelly

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I'm enormously grateful today that a scholar named Matthew Hollis has written a very long, outrageously comprehensive, book on T. S. Eliot's composition (with Ezra Pound's help) of his groundbreaking modernist poem "The Wasteland." It's a huge heavy hardback with an arresting dust jacket I look forward to chopping up for one of my paper-&-glue collages (yes, I shamelessly admit I do that sort of thing). It even has a built-in bookmark—a snazzy red ribbon attached to the binding, which my cats are trying their best to destroy. If I can fight them off and keep the ribbon intact, I'll also paste it in my celebratory collage.

1603-C3-DB-6-BB7-4646-934-B-CB637-D017-F0-C.jpg


I didn't know when I ordered this book that it was going to be an over-the-top wondrous Christmas present to myself, but OMG... after reading the first 50 pages yesterday after it arrived, I see that it truly is. While "The Wasteland" is not my Numero Uno favorite of Eliot's poems (that would be "East Coker"), it's been a big part of my intellectual life since the early 1970s. I am OOT thrilled to dive into learning an unnecessary abundance of details about it.

I have a friend who majored in chemistry at MIT during a time when that university was extremely misogynistic (for all I know, it still is). She says the way she survived those four years was to recite "The Wasteland" every day under her breath as she walked across campus. I can identify with that. It's more than a poem: it's like a surrealist manifesto, a collection of imagery and ideas that can buttress one's will against a sea of troubles.

Now, to be able to read a 400-page line-by-line exegesis of this poem, complete with full psychological, social, historical, lit-critical, and biographical context, plus 150 pages of footnotes and bibliography, is more than a mere book for me. This is an event. It's a gift from the gods. (Yes, I'm weird—but no weirder than any other nerd deeply into some pop-cultural phenom. I mean, think of all the folks who can speak Klingon, High Valyrian, Na'vi...)

So... Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! I hope tonight will be for you a very dark and bleak longest night of the year, followed by rejoicing at the return of the Sun, as the days start getting longer again. Or, as pagans like me say, Have a Cool Yule! My husband and I and a few pagan friends will be doing what we do every year: keeping a Yule log burning in the fireplace as we hold a vigil all night long, telling and reading stories aloud to stay awake. Then we'll go outside at dawn to wave at the rising sun and do silly stuff like singing the Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun."

There are multiple ways of saying Happy Winter Solstice in Gaelic. For example, Grianstad a' Gheimridh Sásta. I find Gaelic utterly unpronounceable, even with aids, so I usually just blur it into some bastardized American version of Happy Midwinter, like "Happy Moongeeree."
As a Christian person who thoroughly rejects all forms of human religion I heartily join you in your celebration of our mutual hope for Spring. I envy you the journey you are undertaking with your book on Eliot. Happy Moongeeree to you as well.
 
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I am so, so, so grateful to the moderators of this forum. For their endless volunteer hours, for their tireless patience, for their hard work even on a holiday weekend, and for being kind and understanding even when I am a stupid beeyotch and deserve a bloody thump upside the head.

Calla Lily, this is for you. :e2flowers

 

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I recently got an app called Grateful to help with making this a habit. So far it has been helpful as it sends me daily reminders.

I'm grateful that I woke up this morning and had vision. Without sight, I couldn't see my wife and daughter's beautiful faces, couldn't drive, couldn't do my job, couldn't read a book, ugh the list is endless when you start to think about it.
 
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Fi Webster

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I'm grateful for the marvelous ten-hour drive we took on Saturday. Driving northwest and about a thousand feet up, we went back in time about two months. From bountiful late spring through a thick belt of flowering trees and pollen that made me logy, then back to very early spring—the oak leaves no bigger than mouse's ears.

We thought we'd have to hunt down the full moon in patches between cloud cover, but as it turned out, the sky was clear from sunset on. Marvelous moon view—ever so slightly past full, a warm creamy hue with a hint of haze halo. The Hare Moon, with a rabbit-shaped greyish patch. No matter what little county route we were on, going in what direction, we could see the moon through the windshield. No traffic at all. Just our solitary car on winding two-lane roads, very rural, in the ridge-and-valley province of south central PA. The scenery was stunning. Rolling green, plain wooden farmhouses, nicely painted barns, blue-grey mountains on the horizon.
 

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Grateful to not be unhoused despite how bad life got recently. I have my next meal guaranteed, I have a bed, and access to a shower. It is a hell of a lot better than the alternative I almost ended up in. I am grateful to have a partner who understands my struggles, and a best friend who isn't afraid to admit when they're wrong, always challenging opinions and helping us both grow together as people. I am grateful that I have this evening free to decompress from a stressful week, and I am grateful that I am me, unwaveringly myself, despite everything.
 

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Grateful to have time to think. Grateful that I made a big sacrifice and left my job in order to take care of myself. Grateful that I have been able to spend time traveling to see the world, and grateful for the enlightenment, self-awareness, and self-discovery it has brought.

Although very grateful, I still have to practice every day to ensure the small things don't weigh me down, and to practice showing gratitude to others, especially to family members who have supported me during my journey. Practice, practice, practice...
 

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"Life is fragile, handle with care". I've had this as a key chain with that saying on one side and a pretty bird on the other. It's since broken off, as things do in life, but it still holds true and is still in my car as a reminder. Handle others with care but mostly, handle yourself with care. And kindness. And respect. I'm grateful that I'm still able to learn, even tho I'm getting older and slower. I'm grateful that even tho I'm older and slower, I'm still trying to be a better person, a kinder person in a world that sometimes seems to have gone mad. I'm grateful that even when I slip up, I still know I can still try. We don't change life, life changes us. I'm learning that you really just have to go with it. I'm grateful that I still can.
 

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Thank you for starting this thread!
Hmmm... I am grateful for having a partner who is always supportive of my artistic endeavors, and who also has artistic bones in his body.
Also, he has a cat, and I woke up with said cat purring on my leg. Not a bad way to start my Monday.
 

Maryn

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I'm grateful that despite an aging body doing what aging bodies do, with resulting pains and limitations, I can still get out in the yard and yank weeds for hours. (And I'm also grateful I found a mosquito repellent that works!) I was shocked at how big some of the prickly kind that can get you right through a leather glove had gotten already. Dig up the non-prickly roots and handle them by those roots.

Maryn, who cleared a path at least
 

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I'm grateful for those friends who reappear in one's life after months or years as if no time has passed, and with whom it's easy to just catch up. They know me as I was, are interested in who I am now, care about me, are not judgemental.
 

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I'm grateful for doctors who admit that they, and specialist, and the surgical team, somehow managed to miss a This Is Abnormal test reading from six months ago. Scary, but we shall see what ensues.
 

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I’m grateful for not wanting much in life. The cosmic dice was rolled supremely in my favor as I’ve always been very content with very little which shields me from a lot of stress I observe in others.

I watch many people close to me twist themselves in knots over bills, career, relationships, and the rest of life’s struggles, yet I sit on the sidelines blissfully content with my thimbles of navel lint and collection of toe nail clippings.
 

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As always, at this time of the day, I'm grateful for coffee.

Grateful for a little time in the morning to write before my family wakes up.

Grateful for all the birds outside our house and becoming a "bird nerd" recently. It's so much fun to recognize bird calls and know the species! The "Merlin" bird app is helpful for learning.

I digress. Thanks for this gratitude thread.
 

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I'm grateful that @AgentDiamond rediscovered this thread. I was liking all the posts until I realized they are 2 years old. This thread is very worthy of being front and center!

I'm also grateful for communications technology. I'm currently separated from my husband by one continent and the Atlantic Ocean. It's the longest we've been apart in 30 years and if it wasn't for daily free What's App video calls I don't think I could've taken the job. And I got to see my 25 year old son today too which was even more of a treat.