The Meaning of 'Gratitude'

Listen (on playlist below): Kind and Generous - Natalie Merhchant

While I'm tempted to start this post by keying away a rote list of things I'm thankful for today, doing so would be a bit prosaic for this place I'm at tonight. And it's exactly that-a place. Not just a state of mind or an emotion that bears this unworthy cliché title like 'Thankful' or 'Gratitude,' but an actual place. A place with its own longitude and latitude. A place where I have settled down and claimed residence and walked it's paths, met its people. And it's a good place. A real place, yes. One with dark corners and fixer-upper houses. But an overall good place. A place with so much beauty that it's overwhelming. And the longer I stay, the more beauty I see.

So while 'I'm Thankful For...' lists are perfectly wonderful and all, I feel like making my own would surely cheapen the beauty of this place I'm in tonight. And while I'm basking in the beauty of my own place tonight, I know so many others are in places equally as beautiful. And for that? For that I am certainly thankful. Thankful for the happiness of my family and friends.

And aren't family and friends what is truly important? I think so. I believe that there is an unwritten formula for holiday goodness. A formula which is certainly unique to each holiday- surely, there aren't equal parts holiday movies and song singing for both Christmas and Thanksgiving-but a formula which always contains an overabundant dose of family. For that reason, Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays, second only to Christmas, simply because Christmas contains a higher dose of 'family.'

I am from Plymouth, Massachusetts. Plymouth Rock and the Mayflower II are a less than 5 minute drive from the first house I ever lived in. So I like to think I know a thing or two about Thanksgiving. Even if we don't do the whole cooking-in-the-kitchen, fall place settings and fresh white linens thing, I like to think I know a thing about being thankful.

What does being thankful mean, though? If it were as easy as scribbling some words on a thank-you card or writing out a list once a year, I'd stock up on stationary and check 'Being Thankful' off of my to-do list. But while I'm all for thank-you cards and being grateful, I think it's so done. Like rattling off "I love you" before hanging up the phone every single time, depleting it of its real meaning. When does "I love you" really mean "I love you" and when does "Thank you" mean that kind of "Thank you" where you feel it in your bones? Where you want to kiss the universe and cement grateful moments into a place where they won't fade away over time?

I think the true meaning of being thankful-of gratitude-arrives on it's own. You can't try too hard to create it, you can't stress to much about conveying it. Gratitude is more abstract than that. But it is important. Perhaps one of the most valuable things that we as human beings can learn. Because it has a symbiotic relationship with another feeling we all hope to experience...happiness.

I think gratitude is recognizing every bit of wonder in our surroundings. From the way the sunlight feels warm against your skin to the way the light dances a ballet through the shades in the kitchen while you drink your coffee on a Sunday morning. And those moments of recognition-of being so fully aware that we are blessed and happy-those moments are gratitude in its purest form. Everything seems more vivacious, more purposeful, more pleasurable because we are so acutely aware of how happy we are.

Yes. I am happiest when I am most grateful. When I am aware of my surroundings and what, exactly, it is about this very moment that makes me feel content. Sending a thank-you card might encourage me to express gratitude to someone else, but really? Gratitude is a way of life rather than a lesson on a check-off list of things we ought to master throughout our lifetimes. So the best way to learn it? It's to live it. Not just one day a year spent sitting around a table with those that you love, but all 365. Even in the moments that are more 'dark corners and fixer-upper houses' than they are 'beautiful winding paths and friendly neighbors.'

Sometimes "Thank you" sounds like "This is delicious." Or "That sky is breathtaking." Or even, "I love your smile." Today, "Thank you" sounds like the sound of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on the television during breakfast. Today, "Thank you" sounds like everyone bustling around asking where the hair dryer is and who gets to shower next. It sounds like the clinking of glasses broken up by spontaneous laughter at the dinner table. It sounds like the football game on TV, the statement of a score received on a word during a family game of Scrabble, the crackling of the fireplace and the clunky sound of a mug of hot chocolate being placed on the coffee table. It's the sound of gurgling full stomachs and yawns as it gets late. And sometimes? Sometimes "Thank you" can't be heard at all. Sometimes it's in a smile shared with a stranger or a thought had in the last moments before sleep.

Today is full of both loud and silent "Thank yous." It is full of tradition. It is full of family. It is full of holiday goodness and happiness. And while there is certainly a heavier dose of grateful today, being grateful ought to extend into our every day lives. So celebrate the breathtaking skies, the beautiful smiles and the winding paths and friendly neighbors. Celebrate this place. This place of gratitude. Of knowing where you've been and where you're going and in between all that, that recognizing where we are is important. That where we are is worth being thankful for.

I love this place.

Traveling

I knew when I set out to write this post that my words would never live up to the feeling I was trying to convey. I couldn't do it in the silence of an empty room, let alone while battling Sesame Street with Katie Herzig. But I wrote it anyway for a few different reasons. And besides, I know that anyone who knows what I'm talking about will understand just fine. They'll know the feeling of the world standing still. The feeling of every breath you've ever taken leading up to this moment.

That being said...

Anyone who knows me knows I love to travel. And by "travel" I do not mean 'vacation.' While soft, bleach white sand between toes painted Dutch Tulip Red is fantastic and while I love a good margarita enjoyed beach side in the middle of December, it's not the end means, it's not the 'vacation', I'm speaking of. It's the means of getting there. The journey, if you will.

There is just something about the feeling of going somewhere that is so exciting. Maybe it's the promise of memories to be made. Maybe it's temporarily leaving behind everyday worries and constantly growing to-do lists. Maybe it's a combination of the two and then a million other things, additionally. I don't know.

What I do know is that I feel so at peace listening to music, writing, reading and staring out of windows for any amount of time. The longer, the better. A lot of people complain about 8 hour flights and 15 hour car rides. Me? I complain because they're not long enough. To me, a 15 hour car ride is an early birthday present.

And traveling at night? Traveling at night is the icing on the cake. The cherry on top. It's a birthday, Halloween and Christmas combined. It's pee-your-pants exciting.

I love airports. I love rest stops. I love neat little stores you come across when you get lost that you just have to stop at. In my eyes, it's all good. There's no 'bad' in traveling. Because, I mean, who wants to stay stuck in place? Whether physically or metaphorically, everyone wants to go somewhere.

Change, quickly.

Both the world that we live in and the lives that we are living are in a constant state of change. And while sometimes we fear change and would love nothing other to slam the door in it's eager face, at the end of every day we must remember that things change for a reason.

We must remember that great things come out of change. That, without it, there would be no black president because african americans would still be sitting in the back of the bus and drinking from separate water fountains, relieving themselves in different bathrooms. That women wouldn't have the right to vote. That people wouldn't be complaining about the government because they wouldn't have a constitutional right to do so-and if they chose to do so anyway, they'd likely be beaten and/or thrown in jail. And while same-sex love is still far from being widely accepted, we have come a long way....All thanks to change.

Change is and is in everything. In the way the leaves turn from forest green to the most brilliant of pinks, oranges and yellows before falling off their creators altogether. In the way that a baby learns to walk, talk and, eventually, count, read, and live independently. It's in the stories our minds paint each night while we're asleep, and the way the tide turns. It's in growing hands and thinning faces. It's in making the switch from counting with beads to counting with fingers to counting in your head. It's in marriage and reproduction. Change is in raises and promotions, in relationships, friendships. In love and in loss. In everything.

Not all change is good. People die. Snow storms happen in October. We grow apart. Marriages end. People, themselves, change. But whether it is good or bad, or even a mixture of the two, change will come. That is fact. It's not something we can control. We can, however, control the way we deal with it. Each day we can make the conscious effort to look change in the eye, smile and embrace it with open arms. To take it, examine it and learn and grow from it. To accept it. Or we can run scared. We can curse it, blame it, harbor resentment towards it. Drown ourselves in it. We can let it be a part of us or we can let it control us. The choice is ours.

And even though change isn't a choice, even though it's inevitable, we mustn't forget that even in the things that change, there is stability. That tides change, but that the waves will always roll in and out. That leaves will always fall and babies will always grow. That people will always count, somehow. The sun will always rise in the east and set in the west. That much is promised.

Yes, it's hard sometimes. Especially when things don't turn out the way we want them to. But we must remember that it is all for a reason. That there is a bigger picture. And that, when it's hard, we must hold on and keep our heads held high instead of giving up. Because, eventually? Things change.

"Old Soul"

People often throw around the phrase "Old soul" and, while I don't know that I believe in souls in the religious sense of the word, I think the phrase describes me well.

There has never been a day in my life that I have felt my age. I've never been 5 and felt 5, never been 10 and felt 10. I didn't feel 15 when I was 15 and, sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, I do not feel 19.

Sure in moments, in minutes, even in hours, when I'm caught up in something or someone I feel like all of the pieces of the puzzle are there, feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be. But it doesn't last. Soon enough I am struck by just how little I have in common with the people I call my peers.

It doesn't bother me that I prefer the company of 30 year olds over 20 year olds. It doesn't bother me to date someone and have their kids call me Mama even though they're only 14 and 16 years younger than I am. It doesn't bother me that I preferred talking to teachers over fellow students back in high school or that in my summer camp days, I befriended counselors over cabin mates. It doesn't bother me because it's just how it has always been.

One of the great things about the college I go to is that the majority of my classmates aren't 19. Some are married, some have kids, many have life experience. They can hold intelligent conversations, get coffee instead of hot chocolate, and many know what's going on in the world. I love that. Of course, there are the typical 18-21 year olds, too. But it's possible to steer clear of the ones you want to and, if there's anything I've learned over the past 19 years, it's how to spot another "Old soul."

So, of course, I do have friends my own age. And most of them are wonderful, even if just in very small doses. But the greater majority of them act so young every once in a while that I can't stand to be around them. That, and, a lot of the time, we have extremely different ideas of what constitutes as "fun".

My ideal Friday night is not one spent at a club, wearing a dress that's 2 inches too short and stilettos that are 2 inches past comfortable, dancing under lights that, swear to God, could give someone a seizure. I don't want to get "wasted" or have some drunk girl hanging all over me. None of it is appealing to me, in the least. I would much rather be at home, wearing sweats and fuzzy socks and sitting in the kitchen with my girlfriend, making dinner and eating it and talking about interesting things and articles we've recently read. And the only dancing I want to be doing on a Friday night is to Johnny Cash or Ani DiFranco in the living room. With dim, non seizure-inducing lighting. Maybe followed by cuddling on the couch while watching a romantic comedy and enjoying a glass of wine. Night complete with a game of Scrabble, reading in bed and sleep at an acceptable hour.

So the fact that I'm currently hiding out and writing this post from a bathroom stall in a club on a Friday night while some girl empties the contents of her stomach in the stall next to me is anything but appealing. There's not enough vodka in the world to make this "fun". I want to be at home doing all of the aforementioned things. Taking care of my sick girlfriend. Taking a candle lit bubble bath. Anything and anywhere but here.

But I was dragged here, by friends my 'age', which, according to many (primarily, my mother), I need more of. The words "You need to stop acting like you're 40 and live a little bit" are used more than I'd like to admit. But, the thing is, unlike her, I don't see it as a character flaw. Sure, it's annoying at times. Sure, it was cause for bullying when I was in primary school. Sure, it gets tiring to "act my age", but I like it all the same. I like that my mom's friends come to me for advice. I like that I can date women in their late twenties and early thirties and spend Friday night "Date night's" making dinner and watching movies. That a date can consist of taking 'our' kids to the zoo or taking the kids to the Rainforest Cafe on a Saturday night as a special treat.

I don't mind living my life on fast forward. In fact, I can't wait to be settled into a career, a house and a family. Friday night movie nights and Saturday morning soccer games and family game nights on Saturday night. Lazy Sunday mornings in bed with the kids, brunch and all of that? I want it yesterday. And even though I'm stuck living my "40 year old" dream in a 19 year old I-Still-Have-Forever-Left-In-College body, even though I have to live my life just as slowly as everyone else and even though that certainly gets annoying-especially on nights like tonight-I don't mind. I don't mind at all. I love being an "Old soul."

Stressed.

I am stressed. In absolutely every single sense of both the word and phrase. And I'm well aware that everyone else's lives are stressful as well-even if it seems like everyone else seems to have it all together-so don't think that I think that the feeling is unique to me. Because I don't. However, I'm about to vent in a way that may seem like I do. So if you hate whiny, vent-y, my-life-is-crap posts, I wouldn't suggest wasting your time reading this. However, if you are the kind of person who believes misery loves company or the kind of person who feels better about their own life after hearing about others, read on....

So. Where was I? Oh. Right. I'm totally and (potentially) irrevocably stressed.

You see, I'm not the kind of person who, when they feel overwhelmed, breaks things up into little 'tackle-able' piles and lists. I'm the kind of person who makes a list, remembers additional things she's forgotten, looks at what is now an even bigger picture and drowns in an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Or 10. Because it's easier. And then, as deadlines approach and things pile up and I'm finally forced to face whatever it is I've been procrastinating doing, I get even more stressed. I am currently at part deux. I am also at breaking point.

I know everyone reaches this point at least once in their lives. That everyone considers packing their bags and hopping on the next train, quitting whatever crap job they're stuck working, and doing something exotic and interesting and different. But not many people have the balls, the courage, the faith, the optimism, the whatever to do so. Most of us are lacking something which holds us back and keeps us safe and miserable-yet-secure in our tiny little boxes. I, for one, envy the people who are able to buy the train ticket because I'm certainly not one of them. I'm too much of a 'big picture' person. However, I'm also the kind of person who thinks the little things ARE the big picture. That every decision we make, every chance we don't take and every move we make, affect our outcome. (I'm well aware that I'm a walking contradiction.) So, as much as I'd love to go and do charity work in Tibet rightthisveryminute I know there are a thousand things I need to take care of first. Tibet is currently very low on my priority list and very high on my desire list.

So what is my priority list? I honestly don't know. I get so anxious at the thought of all of the things I have to do and juggle that I can't take the time to sort, prioritize and discard. Even though I know doing so will be beneficial and stress-relieving in the long term. There's just so much. I'm stretched thin with being a full-time student, a part-time, on-call nanny and babysitter, working at Pinkberry, my internship, being on the executive board of a brand new club at my college, my romantic life, my family life, my (currently non-existant) social life, etc etc etc.

My life is jam packed with essays and research papers and midterms and daycare observations and lesson plans and coordinating social events and communicating with the whole world and typing up proposals and an internship I haven't started yet, but which is already stressing me out because even though I'm psyched to be doing it, I don't have the time for it, which means stretching myself even thinner. Add in playground trips and diaper changes and potty training accidents and cooking dinner and art projects and games and baths and story reading plus swirling and topping and serving frozen yogurt-smile included-plus a girlfriend I never see, family I live with but don't have time for and friends constantly sending texts and writing on walls asking where I am and why they haven't seen me. The answer is that I'm doing all of the above while trying to keep my life (and room) neat and organized and clean because I'm OCD about certain things, not completely breaking down and maintaining my sanity all at the same time. And when you add in things like searching through 7 Rubbermaid's for a missing navy blue knee-sock to complete an outfit that you've thrown together for tomorrow, writing poetry and listening to music during hot baths that allow you to relax and a million other things, that's difficult. Something has seriously got to give.

The worst part is that I'm missing out on things that I love. I'm so stressed I can't process my own thoughts, let alone satisfy my creative juices. I hardly ever have time to pick up my camera, and when I do, I certainly don't have the time to edit them! I currently have thousands of pictures to edit. From last weeks snow fall, to last month's trip to the Adirondacks, to last summer's trip to Austria while I was living in Germany, to last YEAR'S photography trip to Puerto Rico.

I'm so behind in all of the things I love. And I'm so behind in the things I hate, but that matter. And my priorities are totally out of whack and I don't know what to do first or what to do last and I am seriously considering just becoming a crackhead, drug dealer/stripper because I feel like that is my easiest way out of this mess that I'm in.

And even though this post isn't 'good writing' or 'fluid' or anything at all like the post I'd been envisioning when I first married fingers with keyboard. it's honestly been wonderful to just get this out on 'paper'. Even if no one is actually going to read it. Because right now, in this crazy, hectic life of mine, writing things down is the only way I can even begin to make sense of the ever-growing mess of thoughts and to-do's running through my head. So it's what I'm doing. Because it's at least a start, right?

And tomorrow, once I've finished my laundry and tackled some school work and showered and gotten home from work and kicked off my shoes and relaxed a bit, I may just return to this entry and see if I can't try and make tackle-able piles out of it all. Maybe. But for now, I'm going to continue my pity party and have a few moments of thoughtless, stress-free bliss. An hour (or two) which will consist of a hot, candle-lit bath complete with music and book-reading, catching up on TV shows, painting my toe nails, having a good cry and who knows what else?