Gratitude. Day 8. An Answering Machine.
Elena went to check on her mother today, as she does every day; and her mother said, “Come with me here, I want you to hear something.” Assuming it was a possible problem that needed solving, she followed her into the bedroom. Her mother pressed Play on the answering machine.
(About a month ago:)
“Hi, Mom! Just checkin’ on you. See you in a little while.”
(A couple days after that:)
“Hey Mrs. T! I’m comin’ to getcha! Be there in about 5 minutes.”
(A little later still:)
“Hi Aunt Margaret. Happy Mother’s Day. Hope you’re doing ok, just wanted you to know I love you.”
At this point, Elena said to her mom, “Do you want to delete these? You want me to show you how?” Her mom replies with a smile, “No, just listen.”
“Hey Aunt Margaret. Happy Mother’s Day. We love you. We went over to Ellie’s but you weren’t there. Where are you? We miss you. Hope you’re having a great day.”
This went on for a few more messages. All kind of random, but they all conveyed general love and well-wishing. At the end of the messages, Mrs. T said to Elena, “I play these back every day, and it makes me feel happy.”
We don’t really know who we’re impacting at any given time. I’m grateful today for the fact that there’s a message machine in Floral Park that makes an 86-year-old woman happy. That people called to tell her they loved her. And that she lets that love in, every day. So the next time you’re leaving a message on someone’s answering machine (for those who still have them), do it knowing you might be making much more of a difference than you know.
Gratitude. Day 7. Time.
“The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.” -Albert Einstein
Gratitude. Day 6. My Back Yard.
Today I had spent some intimate time with my back yard. It was an extraordinary experience. The sun had just come up. I was in my jammies still, padding around the house, scanning in my mind for the order of the day—what to do first, then after that, and so on. My eye caught the cushy grass that lies just beyond our sliding back door. I had an impulse to do a little yoga out there. I knew it would be wet from the overnight dew, but I just figured “ok, so I’ll get a little wet.”
Without another moment’s thought, I went outside and began a sun salutation—to the actual rising sun. If you’ve never done this, and you do yoga, you should try it at least once. There was something wordless and holy about it. I felt the warm, muggy air on my arms. Cardinals would fly by my head every now and then, on their morning errands. Robins and sparrows and chickadees singing in the trees. My bare feet on the loving, moist grass, my body moving through the salutation, again and again…each time a little stronger, longer, a little more aware and awake and alive.
And the further into my practice I went, the more I entered into a rare, profound silence. And in that sweetness, I came into relationship with the earth under my feet. I felt my kinship with the tender wind, the sheltering trees, the many living beings living in their branches. I felt the sky as my big sister, the whole world of my back yard as my extended family.
When I came to the last part of the sequence, the supine twists, I’m not sure I can adequately convey the experience. Lying back on the warm, wet grass and letting my knees fall to one side while my head turned to the other…each inhalation, a gift: sweet scent of grass and earth and water and life…each exhalation, a gift: my body letting go ever more lovingly into the ground. I experienced a grassy green embrace, as though my back yard and I had just shared a very intimate conversation where both silence and the senses were at play, and she was hugging me before my departure. If there is a God for me, this was my church, my prayer, and its answer.
This Gratitude Project started out as an exercise. But today it became a spiritual gift. I’m humbled and so at peace.
Gratitude. Day 5. Remember the Peacemakers Too.
It’s Memorial Day today, and I’m thinking of all the freedoms I take for granted, freedoms bought with so many precious human lives. I honor the men and women who have sacrificed life, limb, and very often sanity, so that I can practice Buddhism or Wicca or Catholicism or Judaism or Christian Science…so that I can gather with others in peaceful protest…Actually, here is the full list: the Bill of Rights: http://www.law.cornell.edu/constitution/billofrights Facebook is full of heart-rending photographs that remind us what this day is all about.
But as we remember those who have perished in wars that secured our freedoms, let us also remember the countless men and women who (living and dead) have fought for peace, and sometimes paid an equally high price. Gandhi, MLK, and recently I’ve come to learn about Ms Leymah Gbowee (Nobel Peace prize recipient for 2011). But there are millions of others, anonymous and steadfast, who have put their entire lives on the line, day after day in a nonviolent way, for peace.
Namaste to all of them. The military, the peace activists, anyone lost and trying to find their way in a violent world. May all sentient beings possess happiness, and the cause of happiness. Today, I am grateful for everyone, anyone, who has tried to make this world a better place.
Gratitude. Day 4. My Brain.
My brain! In the past few months, my curiosity level has gone way up. I’m leaning photoshop. I’m training myself in Digital Performer so I can record the songs I’m writing in a more effective and professional way. And I’ve just begun the 500-hour yoga teacher training program—which means, among other things, that I’m launching into anatomy studies, in a much deeper way. I figured out how to fix a cupboard door that was hanging crooked. I learned a new quilting technique. Everywhere I look, there’s something new to know, and this thrills me. The more I learn, the more excited I am about life and the continual mystery that surrounds us.
And all this, because I am gifted with a functioning brain. Where would we be without this beautiful, mysterious organ to work its magic, to spark the curiosity, to help us find information, see it, hear it, take it in cognitively, access it, use it, remember it? What a miracle it is, sitting here in our very own heads. It’s helping me move my fingers right now, as I write this all down for you.
Take a moment now, and become aware of what’s possible today in your life, right now, because you have a brain. Then use it to think of something you can do for someone else. And do it in a way that they can never thank you. (Ideas: put quarters in someone’s expired parking meter, pick up trash in a park…it’s kind of a fun challenge to add the part where “they can never thank you.” Try it. Let me know what you did…)
P. S. I want to acknowledge the source of the inspiration to post 365 days of gratitude. It came from a website called 365grateful.com. Check it out. So amazing.
Gratitude. Day 3. Shade.
This morning, I laid down in the yard, looking up into the community of leaves and branches that sustains a whole world of living beings. Because direct sun often gives me migraines, I am particularly grateful for the shade provided by these graceful, sheltering aunties, cooling the yard for the occasional spontaneous picnic—and, this morning, giving me a snapshot of life going about its business…an example of the quiet way in which I am invited to go about mine.
Gratitude. Day 2. Roshi.
Today, Roshi is the subject of my gratitude. He has given his love unstintingly for all of his 13 years, growing gently into the unique, fennel-loving, rain-hating, treat-jubilating dog that he is today. Here are two pictures: one in his youth, and one as he is today—having mellowed some in his old age. Thank you Roshi, for bringing such a rich flavor of love into our lives.
and…
Gratitude Project, Day 1. Bad Art.
Today on Facebook, I just learned about a woman (a photographer) who decided to take a picture every day, for 365 days, of something she was grateful for. It changed her life. I imagine it will also change mine, now that I’ve heard of it. And I’m starting from a baseline of pretty amazing happiness. But there’s so much room for improvement. Even in this lovely part of my life right now, I know I’m breezing through the days in a state of relative unconsciousness. It’s like, “Wheee, I can coast for a while. Everything’s going great.”
Funny how we do a lot of our most potent spiritual work when we’re at the bottom, or during a terrible crisis. When really, every moment of every single day is the exact moment to be opening the heart, receiving the incredible bounty of the world.
So, today I begin. (Laughing at the little organizer in me that’s saying “Don’t you want to start on a calendar day that begins with a 1? Like maybe June 1st or something?” No. I want to start now, today. I want to begin this gratitude project immediately. It may be photos, or drawings, or writing or songs or just instrumental music. But every day, I’m putting something out into the world, in exchange for the ridiculous blessing it is for me to be part of it.
Today? Gratitude for my new friend, actress and singer/songwriter, Sarah Aili, and when we recently did Bad Art together. Bad Art is a game where you get craft supplies and you have to create something truly awful. The minute you catch yourself trying to make it look “right” or “cool,” you are required f*&k it up. Great for people with perfectionism problems. Anyway, here is my masterpiece from that day: a pirate ship (notice the skull & cross bones sticking its tongue out at the world?)
Yoga and Life
Well it’s official! On May 7th, 2012 I earned my 200-hour yoga teaching certificate. I have insurance and everything.
Me with my truly great teacher and mentor, Diana Slattery.
The best part? I HAVE TWO JOBS ALREADY—a “Candlelight Yoga” class on Thursday evenings right down the street from where I live, and a Wednesday morning class at the studio where I received my training (details at www.tinalear.com/events). I was so excited about this I couldn’t sleep last night.
Harold Thurman Whitman said “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and then go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” I am a singer/songwriter with the world of musical theatre roiling around in me. But I’ve never really found my place in that world…not in a rooted, blossoming way. My gut has always been fraught with tension, and the sense that any minute I’m going to be found out for the fraud that I am.
Well, believe it or not, the thing that makes me come alive is yoga. And ever since I’ve put my feet on that path in a serious way, the music gigs that I always wanted have been flowing like water.
Stay tuned for more. For now, this is enough. I will sleep tight tonight, knowing I am doing exactly what I was put on this earth to do. Both at the piano and in the yoga studio.
May everyone, everywhere have this sense of purpose and belonging. It’s a beautiful thing.
T
“Go Fetch!” (a poem written September 29, 2011)
All day long with
little No monkey
trying to scratch my eyes out
so I won’t see any Yes
anywhere
go home little monkey.
your place is not here.
the Open won’t stop reaching
for me. She calls from
inside my chest,
singing, singing.
go little monkey.
play with your brothers
in the jungle over there.
see this? see?
GO FETCH!
