It seems my last few posts have been pretty heavy, and I have to admit, life has felt pretty heavy lately. I’ve had to make a lot of those real-live grown-up life choices, and the outcome isn’t always what we want it to be. We surprise ourselves with how much we still care about what others think. We surprise ourselves with how easy it is to make really bad choices. How hard it can be to stay true to yourself and others.
But today, as I sit in my childhood home, surrounded by the sights and smells I’ve known as home since I was 2, I find myself feeling overwhelmingly lucky. And seeing that it is Thanksgiving, it seems a fitting time to post something to this blog that I've ignored for too many weeks now about just how blessed I really am.
Two nights ago, as I drove up the mountain range and back down again into the valleys of Western North Carolina, I had a moment of forgetting all the things and people that have been resting heavily on my heart and my conscience. I’ve written about this experience before—this “coming home” moment when the whole world seems to feel right again. When I can take a deep breath and relax. When I feel like no matter what’s happening in the big, bad world around me, that it’s likely it’ll all be okay, at least for the next few days.
Even in darkness, there is something startlingly beautiful about these mountains. The way the fog wraps around the curves of the landscape, like cotton batting settling into the corners of a well-worn quilt. The way the moonlight shines off the rocks and the purple-blue hues that in sunlight twinkle in shades of lavender and periwinkle become rich and deep like midnight blue and eggplant. The way the rivers and creeks wind through the hills like long, thin snakes in search of lower ground. The way that white-boarded churches and stone houses nestle on the edges of sloping land, and despite the darkness, these places feel full. How the outline of the mountain range dances with the night sky, and there are spots that are indeterminable as land or cloud or tree.
These images and the cool, autumnal mountain air provide space for pause. And reflection. After a few days of being home, I begin to relax. I begin to turn off my Baltimore brain and think about the things that are really important. Granted, as everyone in my family has gotten older and life has become increasingly more complicated, my holiday time has become sacred and my time has become divided. Life mandates that I divide my vacation weeks into clumps of mini-vacations with all the people that I love all around the world. And despite not seeing everyone at once, I remember how lucky I am to have so many places to visit; so many people to call family.
And though it still feels like the world may be going to hell in a bobsled, there are still things happening all around us for which we must remain thankful.
I remain thankful for my friends and family. You are the macaroni to my cheese; the people who keep me going, who keep me laughing, and who keep me grounded. For reminding me when I’m being a giant, gaping asshole and for reminding me, too, when I’ve done something right. When I’ve done something good. I’m thankful for all of our blessings and I’m even thankful for all of our flaws (as my family reads: “Huh!? WHAT FLAWS!? DON’T WRITE THIS SHIT ON THE INTERNET!”). It’s useful to be reminded just how close we all are to being cast in Days of Our Lives. And how lucky we are to have natural good looks, in the event that a camera crew ever shows up.
I’m thankful for the community of thinkers and artists I find myself surrounded by everyday. I’m thankful for the inspiration and creativity I find in my students and colleagues, for the idealism they hold for the future, and for the change they want in the world— and the possibilities they find so imminent and real.
I’m thankful for all the men and women who wake up everyday and contribute something back to their community. Who raise their children to be kind and honest. Who fight for justice and equality. Who don't lay back and accept the status quo but who use their voices and their brains when they’re outraged. Who vote. Who listen. Who care.
I’m thankful that someone invented boxed cake mix (because it's just so good and cheap). And that when you add butter to sugar with cream, you get frosting. And how nicely bacon compliments bourbon.
I’m thankful that I can see the humor in life. That I can laugh everyday. I’m thankful that Sarah Palin’s reality show will likely be her demise. I’m thankful that people with a lot of time on their hands still make ridiculous videos on Youtube so that I have something to watch in the middle of the night when I’m battling insomnia.
I’m thankful for the little things. For the challenges we face, so that we better know ourselves and our world. For the hardships we encounter so that we have appreciation for what we do have. For the disagreements we engage in, so that we can come to an agreement. For the messes we make as we grow and learn and try to make sense of the spaces that don't make sense, so that when we clean up it feels that much more satisfying.
I'm thankful for these mountains, for these moments of calm, and for places that feel like home and people who feel like family. For love and kindness. For generosity. For memories. For the future.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
