July 13, 2012 § 27 Comments
I’m driving into town for an early morning breakfast with my friend. Traffic is thick. I see an opening in the lane next to me and start to accelerate into the space but then see that the car directly in front of me has simply stopped. I’m able to brake and avoid the collision. I travel on.
At breakfast a drop of syrup falls from my fork, landing exactly in the center of my wrist and not in my lap. With my finger I bring the spilled syrup to my lips.
I’m writing now in my friend’s offices in the midst of the city. The sky is gray, the air is cool. The window beside me is open to the urban landscape. I am surrounded by old buildings, rust and weeds, wildflowers and gardens. I hear the symphony of sounds- dripping water, traffic humming, the quiet murmurs of the people at their desks. All so evocative, so beautiful.
We hear so often that we should feel gratitude for each precious moment and for all the great blessings we have received. But too often, this conception exists for us only in the abstract. Worse yet, we often feel as though we are somehow obliged to possess this feeling and so, when we inevitably fall into some negative place, we feel guilty.
Appreciating the wonder and goodness of life is not an obligation. And it’s not just an abstraction. All that it requires is to be present in your moment- open and ready to feel and see what is right there. The lucky fortuity of an accident averted or a drop of syrup falling in just the right way or the stunning imagery that’s just outside your window.
I am beyond blessed. And even in those moments of struggle, I possess the capacity to struggle. Lucky me.