The Ultimate Gratitude List: 21 Crappy Things That Enrich My Life

I believe in the power of gratitude. In the past ten years, there were times when a sense of gratitude carried me through really difficult emotional times. Recalling all the wonderful, positive aspects of my life has a calming effect when I'm anxious. Making a gratitude list changes my thought stream from the "Life sucks!" channel every time.

But if I really want to dig deep and find perspective, I have to look beyond the pleasant, happy gifts I've received in my life to some not so obvious ones. So, for the record, here's a different kind of gratitude list that's more honest and inclusive:

I am grateful for ....

1. Losing my job at Time years ago. If I continued working 40+ hours a week, I would have  also continued ignoring things about my life and my choices that really needed attention.

2. Becoming sad, angry and disillusioned enough to go through a (second) divorce. Had I stayed married, I would not have taken care of myself and sought this spiritual path.

3. All the jobs I've applied for — and didn't land. If I had been hired for those positions, I would not have written all the stories I have written, nor met the people I've met while writing those stories, etc.

4. The really awful editorial job I did land for where I was overworked and underpaid. That job sustained me for a while and helped show me that I am much happier as a freelance writer, and (ultimately) led me to a job I LOVE.

5. Income Tax Return filing, because it means I have an income to report.

6. The holidays and other times when I felt very, very alone. Without those times I would not appreciate all the wonderful people I have in my life today.

7.The times when I had colds and infections and felt like crap. Without those illnesses, I would not fully appreciate the majority of the times when I am well.

8. The sorrow I've felt when friends have died too soon. The loss of friends creates a void in my life, but it also serves to immortalize them in my heart.

9.  The many rejection notices I've received for my writing submissions. Yes, each one is a disappointment, but they also server to reset my professional compass. As a writer, I've never been sure in which direction to go, so eliminating options is one way to find a truer course.

10. The times I've felt slighted, left out, or looked over. I am a more compassionate, more inclusive person today because of these experiences.

11. People who annoy the living crap out of me and cause me to feel angry, frustrated or disgusted because of their narrow-minded opinions, self-centered acts or just plain stupidity. Chances are I do/say the similar things and by reacting to these jerks I get a chance to see myself clearer. (Ugh!)

12. Young, carefree, beautiful people who never seem to worry and cause me to feel old and neurotic. Seeing youth reminds me that I was that way once, and I can choose to have that youthful optimism again, if I lighten up. (It also makes me appreciate the wisdom I've gathered along the way. I really would not want to be 20 or 25 or even 30 again!)

13. The aches and pains I sometimes feel in my knees and elbows. Yes, I'm aging but these discomforts remind me that I'm still alive and active and trying to remain that way.

14. Menopause ... Um, well at least my own mood swings help me relate to my teenage son (see #15).

15. A son who is going through puberty. Yes, he acts like a jerk at times, but I appreciate that this is part of the process of his growth and maturity and I am forever grateful to have him in my life and have the privilege of watching him grow up. (Hormonal outbursts are also a wonderful opportunity for me to practice compassion and patience.)

16. The lines on my face and the extra padding on my thighs. Signs of age mean that I am alive. The alternate is not so comforting. And now that I'm older, I can let go of vanity and self-comparison and live more authentically.


17. Dirty dishes in the sink, dust on the bookshelves, and loads of laundry to fold. Housework means I have a home that's lived in and enjoyed, that I have food to prepare and people to prepare it for, and clothes to wear.

18. Sadness, disappointment, anger, frustration and every negative thought. My emotions help me see where I need to improve when responding to the realities of life.

19. Corrupt, disillusioned, selfish, cruel and ignorant people (aka assholes). They provide me with opportunities to practice compassion, forgiveness, patience and peaceful resolution.

20. Traffic. Being stuck behind a line of cars makes me slow down and consider all the nameless people driving on the road around me who I don't know but who are also on their journeys. It provides me with an opportunity to practice equanimity — we all want and deserve happiness.

21. Great love lost. I'm still working on generating gratitude for this one because it is still so raw and hurtful. The disappointment of realizing that someone you love doesn't reciprocate your affection is devastating to the heart and soul. Even if I want to believe that this is "for the best" and that the end of a relationship opens me up for unseen opportunities, the sudden disappearance of the lovely family we built together leaves a void that literally SUCKS. But I supposed, knowing that I can love despite the pain is something for which to be grateful. As the Tin Man said to Dorothy, "I now know I have a heart, because it is breaking." There were times when my love was not "true." This one was, and some people go their entire lives without allowing themselves to feel unconditional love. As hard as this one is, I'm grateful.

This is not an exhaustive list but you get the idea. In fact, the very act of making this list provided me with a sense of peace. And after all, that is what this journey is all about? Finding peace in/with an imperfect world. I guess the best way to do that is to find "the good". If we can do that, then loss and heartache lose their sting, and suffering is no longer without meaning.

Yes, I am grateful, so very grateful, for all I've been given.

Freeing the Angel

We'd already been to St. Peter's where Michaelangelo's "Pieta" is safely ensconced behind glass. We'd also gazed in wonder at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and frankly, we'd seen a lot of master works by the time we walked into San Domenico's in the heart of Bologna's city center.

The Angel freed

On our previous trip to Bologna, we walked right past this (relatively) humble church without giving it a second glance. Let me clarify that the humblest churches in Italy would be considered magnificent cathedrals in the US.

San Domenico's (Saint Dominic) was consecrated in 1251 and its simple brownstone facade belies the treasures inside. These include three sculptures by Michaelangelo completed in 1495 that guard Saint Dominic's tomb, which is a wildly ornate and amazing collection of art onto itself, within St. Dominic's chapel — one of numerous chapels in this cavernous basilica.

We were planning our return trip to Bolonga when I stumbled upon information about Saint Dominic's.  I was writing a presentation about the nature of essence, and was reminded of a quote attributed to Michaelangelo about his process for sculpture:

 "I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free." 

(This reductive process is the same for us when we hit that point in our lives — usually at mid-life — when our ego's strategies and motives are no longer effective in protecting us from whatever it is we fear and we begin to long for the true self that lies hidden inside of us.)

San Domenico's unassuming facade belies what's inside.

To make sure I had the quote right — and that Michaelangelo did indeed say it — I did what I always do when I'm fact checking: I Googled. Sure enough the quote popped up with numerous sources confirming its origin. Along with the quote were images of the angel.

I always thought the "freed angel" was in the Vatican or some important basilica in Rome or Florence. But after doing a little research, I discovered that it was actually in the Basilica of San Domenico. Another quick Google revealed that — to my amazement —San Domenico's was two blocks from the Air B&B apartment we were renting! So along with eating prosciutto and cheese and sampling balsamic vinegar, The Angel went on the list of things to see and do.

Upon entering the vast church, I expected to see signs, arrows, flashing lights pointing the way, but there were none. In fact, when we entered the basilica at about 10 a.m. on a Monday, there mass was being held in the very ornate chapel that held the priceless sculptures. The angel remained hidden. We decided to come back after the service concluded.


That afternoon we were not disappointed. The chapel was open and empty. Soaring above the final resting place of St. Dominic was a cupola that could rival anything we saw in Rome. The frescos were amazing too, but below them on the altar was the Angel exposed for all to see. I could have touched it! (But I didn't.) It was awesome to stand so close to such a master work.


According the to account I read, Michaelangelo traveled through Bologna after the death of his Venetian patron, Lorenzo De Medici. He was only 19 years old when commissioned to sculpt The Angel and two other pieces for the chapel. Four years later, while in Rome, he would be commissioned to sculpt The Pieta.

I love to plan our trips. I take a lot of pleasure finding the ideal Air B&B accommodation or great local restaurant, but the best experiences I have in my travels are the ones that occur through a culmination of happenstances. Like the Angel in the marble, the opportunity to see a masterwork in such an intimate manner had been there all along. I just had to be willing to seek it out.

San Proclus by Michaelangelo, adorns the tomb of San Domenico

San Petronios by Michaelangelo in the Basilica of San Domenico

The Boy Band Next Door

I love my neighbors. They have a band. They like to party. They particularly like to sit on their front porch and smoke and talk loudly. I love my neighbors. I love them so much that I called the police the other night — correction, at 2 a.m. — to let them know just how much I care.

We live (by choice) in an eclectic neighborhood a few blocks from UAB campus. The house next to ours has been rented by students since I purchased my home more than five years ago. Last year, new tenants moved in. I soon met a nice young woman who walked her little dog in the mornings. I exchanged "Hey!"s with the 20-something guy who became her roommate. A few months later, on a warm Sunday afternoon when strains of acoustic guitar wafted from next door, I thought, "Cool!"

But as the days (and nights) went on and the concert continued with amplifiers and percussion, my thoughts changed. Band members came and went. None of them said "hey" or even made eye contact.

After four days straight of "band practice" that lasted from 10 a.m. to well into the evening, I cracked. That evening, at 9 p.m. I walked next door and pounded until the guys took a smoke break and heard me. I smiled and introduced myself.

"I'm sure you don't realize how loud you are," I said. "But I can hear you playing inside my house."

"OK," the band leader said, in classic single syllabic, text response.

"You've been playing all day ... and I work at home ..." I said, " and you've been playing every day this week."

He stared at me and I realized I was now "the old woman" who shook her fist at the kids and tried to spoil their fun.

"I get it, you're just having fun," I said. "But just please, consider your neighbors."

"We're winding it down," he said. "We'll stop at 9:30."

And they did. But a few weeks later, the band started in at 1 a.m. The drums and base guitar were pounding so loud it woke Jack, who, in turn, woke me from a very deep sleep.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and a jacket and marched next door. I had to pounded on the door before anyone answered.

"I told them not to play!" said the band leader.

"Please tell them again," I said. 

That was six months ago.

Since then, we've called the police twice when the parties and music went on well after midnight — once on a weeknight, and after one particular inebriated guest mistook our azalea bushes for a urinal.

Although they probably think me very intolerant, calling the police and filing a disturbance report is actually a compassionate thing to do.

I love my neighbors — all my neighbors, including the elderly Vietnam vet who lives across the street and takes care of stray cats and a funny little dog. I love the autistic man who lives a few houses down and who quotes baseball statistics as he walks to and from the bus stop on the corner. I don't know every person on my street but I love them all enough to not want their property — or lives— destroyed by drunken drivers.

The Boy Band Next Door may think I should mind my own business, but when their friends wake me up at 1:30 a.m. because they are yelling across the street, they become my business. Ignoring their insensitivity or chalking it up to "youth" isn't going to help anyone. I am quite certain that the consequences of their choices will catch up to them. If I hasten the process along, so be it.

And let me be clear: I do not like confrontation. I will avoid conflict as much as possible. So for me to go next door and ask people I barely know to stop making so much noise, is not a natural response for me. And yes, writing this essay is my way of processing it after the fact, because I now feel weird and awkward and vulnerable having shared my feelings with these kids — knowing that they could retaliate and do any number of distasteful things to my home.

I don't like confrontation one bit, but I look at it as practice, because there is a lot of noise in this world right now that is disruptive to our collective peace. Non-action is action. And not taking action — allowing someone to piss in your azaleas — becomes complicity after a point. I have to learn to stand up against the things that disturb me and use the resources that are provided to not only take care of myself, but to help take care of my community.

Holding the Tension ... on Social Media

There's never been a better time to practice mindfulness. In fact, lately, I'm getting lots of opportunities. I don't even have to leave the comfort of my home — or even sit in meditation. Every time I go on Facebook, there's a new chance to hold the tension with those who have differing opinions to my own.

Some people might just defriend those who don't agree with their politics. Others might just hide or stop following social media trolls and toads. But I'm finding it a great practice to sit with the comments, memes, videos and headlines that push my buttons. What better way to practice awareness of dualistic thoughts than while scrolling through the daily news feed?

It's interesting to sit with the feelings that arise when I read a post or statement that I find offensive, ignorant or hateful and try to define exactly what the emotion is. Fear? Indignation? Righteousness? Anger? Loathing? Hatred?

Often my first reaction is to reply with a pithy argument or roll my eyes as I hide their feed. Then, I start to make up a story about how backward and ignorant the person is. I want to place as much space between me and them as I can.

But this is Facebook! And I've know a lot of these friends for a long time. They are well-educated, successful, and smart. They are good mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. I've "loved" the posts of their dogs, cats and grandchildren. I've "wowed" their vacation photos and "LOL'd"at their jokes. Just because they have a different idea of who should be the Secretary of Education than I do, they aren't insane or evil. They may hold different political and social values, but they are still my friends.

I am grateful that I have friends who hold differing opinions than my own. If not for them, I wouldn't know the truth depth and meaning of my convictions. Left unchallenged by a tightly knit cohort of like-minded Facebook pals, I would be lulled into thinking that everyone in the whole, wide world agrees with me and my politics. In fact, I would be practicing the very same exclusion and segregation that I abhor in others.

Holding a space for opposing views is really difficult right now, but that's the point. If I can't hold the tension between myself and a friend who has a differing opinion to my own, what kind of world can I hope to live in?

In that space of tension lies something great. In that space of not responding in anger and fear lies a tremendous opportunity to cultivate compassion. How can I help create a more peaceful, loving world if I am so completely undone by an insensitive meme?

If I really want to practice loving kindness and compassion, I need to friend those who do not share my point of view. If I really want to follow the teachings of Jesus or the Buddha, I have to open my heart to those who think/look/act different than me. I don't have to "like" everything they post. All I have to do is follow the greatest commandment: Love your neighbor as you love your selfie.

Election Day Meditation: "Water is taught by thirst"

I PUBLISHED THE FOLLOWING BLOG FOUR YEARS AGO on November 8, 2016 ... I THINK WE JUST WITNESSED QUENCHED THIRST

With the outcome of the Presidential election to be decided within the next 24 hours, I am trying not to be afraid today. I am not Republican or Democrat or Libertarian, Green or Liberal. I don't take a pure party line. I've always voted for the candidate who best reflected my principles and whom I felt would best serve our country. 

But because I'm not omniscient and cannot possible know for certain who would best fit the bill, I also trust our democratic system. I trust that our collective consciousness will prevail. What may be "best" for me, may not be "best" for the majority of my neighbors. I believe in a higher power.  I have voted in countless elections and trusted, and I have never felt the sense of impending danger ... until today.

So I'm sitting with this feeling of panic and anxiety today. Where does it come from? It is that familiar feeling of being helpless, out of control. Why? Have I ever really been in control of our country's politics? No. Have I ever been harmed irrevocably by decisions that were by our president? Not sure.

I have felt this feeling before, although not related to politics ... I felt this way when my marriage was ending. And I felt this feeling when I knew my job was in jeopardy due to downsizing. This anxiety is not fear of something I know; it is fear of change — of the unknown. The feeling stems from my conscious self trying to reject the reality of what is actually happening. The tightness in my body is conflict between reality and my ideals.

I can honestly say that I have never felt this fear about the election of any other president. Regardless of the outcome of today's election, there will be shifts in the world as we know it. Some changes may seem adverse. Other changes may appear to be beneficial. But there will be changes in our country. I cannot know the extent of those shifts in legislature or attitudes, but tomorrow there will be a lot of people who will be upset and disgruntled. Many of my neighbors will be sullen or outraged. Some might even turn their deep-seated fear into violence. There will be people in countries around the world who I will never meet who will take the results of our election as an insult or threat or a joke or a sign of weakness.  So there it is: My fear. And the only way I know to overcome fear is to face it, and give it a name.

 How did we get here?

Yes, Trump and Clinton differ many ways but there seems to be a common denominator: fear. Trump played off our fear of terrorism and our fear of economic depletion and our fear of politicians. Whereas Clinton spoke to our fear of having a president who was a misogynist, a liar, a cheat. Is it any wonder I'm feeling nervous right now?

To face my free-floating anxiety, I have to become grounded in facts. Although I'm not a political expert, here is what I know: Today did not just "happen". 

A billion actions, both intentional and unintended, occurred to bring together the two candidates on today's presidential ballot. In part, we ALL created this day. Whether we supported a candidate or an issue directly or by omission, we helped manifest this reality. There were many, many causes and conditions which had to "ripen" in order for today's election to take place. I'm not aware of many of them, but one comes to mind. 

Whether you watch and read it or not, we support a media that makes billions of dollars off of outrageous talking heads and controversy. Although Clinton did not exactly shy away from coverage, Trump, in particular, used his outrageous personae to dominate both traditional and social media. But no matter how loud and persistent the voice, these media channels are only successful if there is someone to receive and react to the message.  

A record 84 million viewers tuned in for the first Trump v. Clinton debate. (To put this in context, the 2016 Superbowl drew approx. 114.4 million viewers. The 2016 premiere of The Walking Dead drew 17 million viewers.) I don't know how to calculate the revenues earned by the various news and social media sources from this election cycle, but I suspect it too is record-breaking.  In short: Controversial candidates = Greater interest = Larger viewership/readership = Greater advertising revenues. 

But before I vilify The Media and all of us who enable train-wreck TV, I need to consider another perspective. Because where there is a negative outcome, there is always a positive side.

Could this toxic election season serve a more wholesome purpose?

In a 2011 Psychology Today article entitled The Moral of the Morbid, Eric G. Wilson, Ph.D. posits that our attraction to discourse and disaster is necessary to our mental health. Citing Carl Jung, Wilson writes: "[Jung] maintains that our mental health depends on our shadow, that part of our psyche that harbors our darkest energies, such as melancholia and murderousness. The more we repress the morbid, the more it foments neuroses or psychoses. To achieve wholeness, we must acknowledge our most demonic inclinations."

If Jung is right, then our current political climate may actually be healthy in that it is allowing to surface — rather than suppress — our collective fears with the darkness (such as climate change and terrorism) in our world today. Witnessing the chaos played out by both Democrats and Republicans may be what we need to shock us into a deeper desire for a kinder, gentler, better America.

"When we agonize over what has cruelly been bereft from us, we love it more, and know it better, than when we were near it," Wilson writes. "Affliction can reveal what is most sacred in our lives, essential to our joy. Water, Emily Dickinson writes, is 'taught by thirst.'"

Today, after witnessing the train wreck of this election cycle. I thirst for leaders who are wise, compassionate and filled with integrity. I also acknowledge that I (and everyone else in our country) has played a part in affirming the present situation. So now the questions are:  Where do we go from here? How do we encourage and reward integrity in our leaders? What can we do differently to ensure that our thirst for peace is sated?