Doorway into Thanks

Most of us are interested in getting somewhere. Achieving something. Being prettier or smarter or skinnier or funnier or having more money or a better job or more security or more optimism. We don’t spend much time concerned with being. Being where we are right now and giving thanks for it. Appreciating the light falling across the floor in this moment and the feeling of a soft blanket across your lap and the company of a loved one or pet. When I get caught up in getting somewhere else, I reread Mary Oliver.

This one spoke to me this morning - Mary Oliver’s poem “Praying”:

It doesn’t have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try

to make them elaborate, this isn’t

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.