Happy Thanksgiving

Warm sunshine shining through the window as people walk by going about their business on a day that feels like Monday, only it's Saturday. I am thankful for that.
I am thankful for life, for trees and sun, eyes that move and see, ears that hear, legs that walk, lips that talk, wind, air, arms that sway, a heart that beats, lungs that breathe, kidneys that clean, a soul that gently reminds me of peace and temporary time, water, grass, green, flow, water that flows, life that flows, being OK with life's flow, music, sleep, stretching, movement, motion, for this summer's trip and all the people I met, all the people I've ever met and all the people I will ever meet, as we are all one anyway. For my family, for my parents and brothers and sweet smiling little nephew and cousins and family in Ohio. For a place to lay my head, for the ability to buy food and water, for smiles. For the sky and stars and the moon. Sister Moon. For this odd thing called life.

I've been thinking about it a lot recently, it's such a gift to be alive. It doesn't last forever, so please enjoy it while you can.

I was running in the park Thanksgiving morning, to my favorite spot called Prayerbook Cross. It's up a hill and around a bend and there is a stream of rushing water that turns into a waterfall down below. There is a humongous cross that was built by some of the earliest settlers. I like to stand and look up, to imagine all the others that must've stood and looked up.
I go there to think, or in yesterday's case to be thankful. I sat and spoke words of thanks, naming things by name. It was a long list. It helped me to realize how fortunate I am. I ought to do that more often.
On the way back I decided that running was too strenuous (ha, I need to write about the marathon! I've been meaning to, I will soon. Let's just say... I finished, and my legs are still attached to my body. So we'll call it a success.) so I walked. A walk in the park.
My favorite moment was watching a father teaching his two little ones to ride their bikes. There was a little boy and a little girl. The little girl was riding around, and the guy was holding onto the seat of the little boy's bike, trying to get him going.
It's the 'getting going' that's the hardest part. Trusting that you don't need the training wheels anymore, trusting that even when your dad lets go, that you'll still be ok on your own. That you're still held in the palm of someone's hand, no matter what.
It's impossible to believe and the scariest thing in the world. Like a baby bird's first flight.
It's so hard to trust, to take that leap of faith.
The little boy began riding on his own, the dad looking on with nervous excitement when suddenly the girl came flying towards him, towards the grass, clearly unable to stop before the grass. Look out! So the dad quickly ran alongside her and grabbed the seat, slowing her and balancing her into the grass. He glanced over at me and smiled, and I smiled back. I think the girl was smiling too, blissfully unaware of her imminent crash. Ahh, the joys of learning to ride a bike. But they say, once you learn to ride a bike, you don't forget. If only all of life was like that...

I'm off to inhale and exhale enlivened oxygen and will write more later.

Happy Thanksgiving! Be thankful.

Namaste

I was thinking of this saying by Marianne Williamson this morning as I did yoga for 2 hours with about 100 other people. All inhaling and exhaling enlivened oxygen while poring out a great dripping cleansing sweat in the name of health and hope. You end up losing thoughts of yourself and concerns of your world in favor of thoughts of everyone and everything. The common good. The greater good. It's wonderfully distracting and leaves you feeling empowered. Grateful, conscious, and full of hope.

Our Deepest Fear - by Marianne Williamson
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."