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.