For All of You, I Give Thanks

Hello to all of you whose blogging friendship has enriched my life during the past year. All of us, I hope and trust, have so much for which to be grateful. Each day, life offers us blessings pressed down and overflowing. Often these blessings come as surprises: we feel a sudden upsurge of gratitude within our innards. A lightness of heart and mind. Joy. A feeling of contentment.

These transcendent moments enrich our spirits as we meld with all others who inhabit the Universe and are part of the Holy Oneness of All Creation.

That Oneness unites us despite our differences with regard to religion or politics or skin color or ethnicity or sexual preference or other beliefs to which we cling sometimes as that which defines us.

What really defines us I believe is our ceaseless search for authenticity, for wholeness of the human spirit—a wholeness that speaks loud and clear of the great gifts we bear to all human—and animal—kind.

This year I am especially grateful not only for the friendship you have extended to me but for my family, the cats with whom I live, my home, the beauty of our natural world, and my health. And one thing more: renewed possibility.

Meniere’s entered my life in 2006 and has narrowed it in many ways. But this month I flew—for the first time since the disease took up residence within me. Flying is somewhat tricky for those of us who are often in the throes of vertigo and the accompanying headaches and so I’ve given up traveling to anyplace except where I can drive. And driving long distances at seventy-seven is tiring!

This past year, a young mother and her four children “adopted” me as their grandmother. During my lifetime I’ve been daughter, sister, and aunt, but I’ve never been called wife, mother, or grandmother. This is a whole new episode in my life and I feel humbled by it—and grateful.

When this family of five invited me to visit for two weeks I hesitated because the distance was too far to drive. I checked train and bus schedules but both time and cost were prohibitive. After much mulling, I decided, with some trepidation, that I had to venture forth and take to the skies. I found an inexpensive roundtrip ticket that pretty much made the decision for me.

A Meniere’s friend in Stillwater, Minnesota, gave me sound advice on how to prepare for the flight. Nevertheless I felt stressed, which can exacerbate Meniere’s. So on November 6^th, both anxiety and I boarded the plane.

Now here is the wonderful news: I experienced no problems in flying across the country and back. NONE. O ye jigs and juleps! O, joy in the morning! This means that my life has opened up to possibility again.

As I’ve aged, my life has narrowed. Partly because of Meniere’s and partly because of moving away from friends of thirty-eight years and settling here in Missouri. I am neither a joiner nor a churchgoer and after volunteering for fifty-some years, I’m ready to leave that enriching way of meeting other people to the younger generations.

But discovering I can fly means I can visit with friends in Minnesota more often. I can visit those places that are on my “bucket list.” Moreover, the realization that Meniere’s is still present but that it no longer holds my life in thrall has helped me realize that even here in Missouri I can venture out more and seek new experiences. I can get on that superhighway to Kansas City and enjoy the concerts and plays there.

And so today as all of us honor the courage of the soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq, as all of us give thanks for our health and our families and friends, as all of us gather with loved ones to embrace the goodness and abundance of our lives, I am saying a special thank you to the Universe for the treasure trove of possibility that I now see opening up before me. Life is good.

Peace to all of you, pressed down and overflowing, on this Thanksgiving Day.

Note: The photographs from Wikipedia are of the Rocky Mountains. I flew over them and also was driven up them and through their canyons. The world is indeed beautiful.

PS: Next Thursday I hope to begin posting regularly again. You’ll find me in Seneca, Kansas, teaching fifth graders.

Greetings!

To all of you from South Africa to Great Britain

to the far-flung states of the Northwest and California

to Canada and Florida,

the Southwest and the Midwest,

Boston and Cleveland,

and all the toasty homes in between,

I wish you a Chanukah filled to brimming with merriment,

a Christmas heart-deep in peace,

a Boxing Day sparkled with laughter,  

a Kwanzaa candlelit by joy,

and a year’s ending

that finds you content

with your life and its gifts.

Ellie, Maggie, and Matthew

have asked me to convey their gratitude to all of you.

Now that I’ve joined the family of bloggers,

I no longer disturb their naps with play.

For this, they give thanks

even as they hunker by the patio doors,

gnashing their teeth and chirruping

at winter birds and squirrels feasting on sunflower seeds.

Those three hoodlums,

one snoopy as a young sleuth,

join me in wishing you a new year filled

with possibilities for growth in the human spirit.

May you enter the new year merrily

and come to its end in good health,

your lives enriched with friendship

and your spirits enfolded

in the Holy Oneness of All Creation.

You and I,
the three felines observing me type,

and all your cherished animals
are part of that Oneness.
We are the essence of One.

Peace as ever and always.

Amen.

I hope this photograph, from twenty-five years ago, conveys the joy I feel today from having met so many engaging bloggers this year. Thank you for your ongoing support, and thank you, too, for reading this blog so faithfully. Your comments and encouragement have lifted my spirits during a difficult year.        

           Finally, thank all of you who have ordered A Cat’s Life: Dulcy’s Story. Your meeting Dulcy for the first time is a great gift to me. Let there be, for all of us, joy in the morning.