Author: ferylfiles

I hate this term. I really do. It was on the tail end of that gratitude list I noped out on at the end of last month, but I’m still thinking about it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the years. You see, I grew up in a faith tradition that prioritizes love of God and love of others. I don’t think those are bad things, not at all. Truly. In fact, I think by loving others we are working on behalf of the divine. (I don’t have it all mapped out. My theology is mushy along the edges. And frankly, I think the folks who have absolute certainty are a little scary. Bless them. It makes navigating life a lot easier, but as Tina Turner said “we never ever do nothing nice and easy.”) Where do things fall if we see ourselves as inherently selfish and thinking about ourselves as sinful? I suspect infused with a lot of guilt. Hello! But folks who do think of themselves first and only tend to be, pardon my French, assholes, and pretty intolerable. So how do we walk in the world loving others and not being a jerk while still tending to our own needs?

I have a lot of things to work through and thankfully have a counselor and the means to do it, but I’ve graduated from active self-loathing to a hesitant self-like and that’s pretty cool. I had a professor in grad school, one of my very favorites actually, who taught me more than any single notion about early modern European history with this one idea–do something every day that benefits your future self. On some level, we already do those things: eating, brushing teeth, bathing, putting on shoes. As we have the capacity, it becomes more complex. I used to look at things like healthy eating, exercise, chores as burdens, as things that I felt guilty if I didn’t do. These weighty obligations bogged me down in more guilt and anxiety, especially as I failed to do them well. But in recent years, I’ve thought more of things in terms of gifts. Getting a gym membership in August was a gift to January Becci. Eating planned out meals and enough protein means I don’t get sick as easily and I feel better. Taking care of the laundry and the dishes are gifts so I can rest more peacefully in my own home. Travel is a gift to fill my heart and memories with experiences. These gifts don’t make me less infused with a desire to love the Divine or my neighbor; they give me more strength to do so.

To sum up, I’m still going to hate the term self-love. It sounds more like masturbation (and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that) than a philosophy of not pouring from an empty cup. For me, the question boils down to how can we share bouquets of flowers if we don’t tend our own gardens?

Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet is a favorite of mine. I love how the call and response is someone (or many someones) requesting wisdom and the prophet replies with poetry that enlightens, enriches, and causes reflection. It’s no coincidence that I was introduced to this book by a very dear, very wise friend. Sometimes I go to her in the same call and response format. 

Yesterday evening I asked her to speak on longing (and how to crush that feeling like a bug). Of course she is wiser than me and gave me two perspectives to consider on one hand what it is I feel I’m lacking and to question that at all angles. What version of myself am I turning away from, avoiding, while looking for something else? And here, in this moment, as at every point, my life is full of exactly what is with nothing absent. This is obviously hard to grapple with when considering loss and grief and longing for loved ones who have left us, particularly around high holidays. 

She also offered the perspective of gratitude for longing—sitting with the feeling as a visitor with whom I welcome and chat with, learning all the ways of this temporary guest in the house of my soul, bidding farewell in due course.

This past holiday weekend, I’ve been able to spend time with my bonus parents enjoying meals and puzzles and pottery and yes even football. No strangers to loss and grief they were a balm to this tender heart.

I realize I can carry space where I both long for my  person and for a future where I might be held, touched, cherished, and loved again while also loving my life, my family of blood and choice, my friends, my critters, and what I bring to the world. Maybe instead of the wide ocean metaphor, it’s time to turn to the river metaphor—all of them flowing at once, consistent, and consistently changing.

Yesterday’s gratitude challenge word was “Feelings” and frankly I’m over them right now. And I’m tapped out with this gratitude challenge. I’m taking a break mentally, physically, geographically, and God-willing emotionally. I’m grateful. Truly. But not for the sake of slogging through something.

I’m going to go spend time with people I love, who love me. I’m going to eat some good food and help with chores. Maybe do a little shopping…

What I know for certain—I have a lot I’m grateful for and I hurt and grieve at the same time. Grief is layered, nuanced, and multi-faceted. Sometimes it knocks me down for a couple of rounds. And old grief and new bruises can also coincide. What a trip!

I’m a tender nugget and I’m going to tend to the ouchies for a while. It doesn’t mean I’m not grateful, it just means I’m going inward for a bit.

All good. Promise.

I swear, this gratitude challenge list is KICKING MY BACKSIDE. On any given day, I have tons of ideas and love to play with my imagination. It’s so fun. Mostly. But there’s a dark side to having lots of ideas–I learned about the 11 cognitive distortions the other day, please don’t quiz me. That’s where your brain plays tricks on you and is kind of a bully and a liar. When I’m in flow, usually while painting or gardening or baking, sometimes even when writing, the bully takes a back seat. The fun ideas get to flourish. I’m immersed in play. I love that so much and am thankful for every.single.second of it. I know the more I do those things, the greater the possibility to whack-a-mole the bully.

Sometime, though, the filters get thin with lack of sleep, a discombobulated eating schedule, darkness outside, a bruised ego, heartache. Lots of little stressors can pile on and the imagination can run amuck and not it the fun way.

Nevertheless, I am also grateful for good ideas whenever they cross my path. One I learned today was to start a list in the notes application on your phone. At the top, enter the text “Good Things Are Always Happening to Me” and then start listing them when they happen. It’s the joy nugget tracker/accumulator and I love it. I just started mine today. I’ve been really sad the last few days. Layered sadness. And I’m happy to add good ideas to my tool belt like this one.

I tell, ya, I’m feeling sassy and am about over this gratitude month-thing. Not really, but let me kvetch for a second. Gah! Okay, thanks. I’m better. But I’m not going to go the traditional route tonight. I’m not up for it.

I’m thankful for the way Canadians say tomorrow and sorry and when something is most excellent they’ll pronounce “beauty” in a way that you feel it to your bones. Yeah. It really is “beauty,” isn’t it? To our neighbors to the north, I salute you. I’m grateful for cultural linguistics and yours in particular this November evening.

Now if only I had a paper bag full of Macintosh Toffee Bars…