TGIF :: Appreciation, Gratitude, & Magic

#46 || A birthday, an anniversary, an awareness

@Stinson Beach, Tuesday

It’s early, still dark out. I hear the hum of the refrigerator from my perch at the kitchen table and the abrupt clanking of our metal wind chimes in the pre-dawn gusts outside. They hang perilously from a trellis up the stairs past the Grandmother Redwood Tree, next to our squeaky wooden gate. An unexpected weather marker.

I’m up particularly early today. Post-Hoffman Process, equipped with an inclination to demote my intellect, I’m still prioritizing things like lunches with friends, long walks on cold beaches, and spacious morning hikes, which meant a lot less time working and writing in recent days. And our youngest is thirteen years old today which means I’m cobbling together a special breakfast of sprinkle pancakes and sausages before everyone is off to school.

Birth Magic

When we chose today’s date for Tenzin’s caesarean delivery a little over thirteen years ago, I remember thinking that March 1st sounded more like spring than the late February options the doctor offered us. Big brother Xander was delivered (also by cesarean) in somewhat of an urgent scramble after 40+ hours of induced labor a few years prior, so we all agreed a scheduled arrival made the most sense. It turns out that my body was built well to make and carry babies, but not deliver them (something about my pelvis being shaped more like a man’s, go figure!).

Tenzin arrived in a San Francisco hospital room on a Tuesday afternoon—all nine pounds of him. I remember noticing that the brightly lit, windowless room was equipped with anything and everything to ensure safety, yet its sterility and functionality felt ill-suited for the magic of life that happens among it’s walls.

1958

I wanted to pause and be with the marvel that Tenzin and his brother are among the fifth generation in our family to be born at the same hospital (history for the locals here), something my mother, who also seemed to believe in magic, reminded me of often when she was still here. We shared share a fascination with place as a keeper of time and memories beyond ourselves, my mother and I.

As they were cleaning and bundling our newborn moments later, I asked the doctor if everything was okay—the room was so quiet, no cries, no voices. “Oh, yes,” she assured me, “Everything is fine and he just seems quite content—they don’t all cry.”

13 years ago today. © my dearest friend Erica of Erica Mueller Photography

Tears of relief. Different tasting tears than the ones I’d shed earlier that day saying goodbye to Xander at preschool, our last encounter before he’d add “big brother” to his identity, for life.

When my father arrived at the hospital to meet Tenzin, he told us of a bright rainbow over the city as he approached from the south. None of us were really surprised.

About These Moments

Two elderly relatives are exploring end of life options. A dear friend is still in the bliss-haze of the first year of motherhood. Someone just two degrees away was taken off of life support yesterday after cycling accident. Awareness of the arc of life with a beginning, a middle, and an end feels more tangible, real, and exhilarating at once these days.

I think this is a long term side-effect of my breast cancer treatment journey coupled with an imminent milestone birthday. I live now with a deeper, sometimes awkward sense of reverence. Humility. Appreciation. Part of my exploration these days is letting all of the meaningfulness in, but with joy.

I was reminded this week that today also marks the one year anniversary of the first day of my radiation treatments. My phone shares images—shots of the hospital machinery alongside photos of a family poker birthday party that same day. What a series of weeks that was. I can still hear the music I played during the daily drives into San Francisco with a water bottle and a ziplock full of raw veggies in easily removable clothing. Keep going was my mantra.

Yet these are the big moments. One of the emergent learnings among these reflections is to allow plenty of space for the in-between, the smaller stuff… the taste of clean water, the extra two seconds of embrace in a hello or goodbye hug, lingering eye contact, a delicious meal prepared with love, the body heat of a loved one alongside us as we rest.

13 today

Appreciation and Gratitude

One of the practices I’ve maintained since starting the Hoffman Process a few weeks ago is that of Appreciation and Gratitude. This is a daily practice of listing three things we appreciate about ourselves, and three things we are grateful for.

I’ll admit that my first reaction to this was irritation: I know “daily gratitude journal people” and I’m not really one of them. Yet, I’m a generally good rule follower, so I followed instructions and took a few minutes each week before bed during the retreat to reflect and write these down. I’ve somehow kept the practice up since returning home.

Gratitude is easier for me than appreciation. We can all think of three things to be grateful for at the end of a day—a good meal, a call from a friend, a chance to take a walk, a roof over our heads.

Appreciation… this one I had to figure out. The sentences are about ourselves and go something like this: “I appreciate that I stayed calm during that difficult conversation with a coworker this morning,” or “I appreciate that I know how to prepare healthy meals for my family.” The key is starting with “I appreciate that I…”

It felt awkward at first as I favor humility and don’t want to evolve into some ego-driven self-celebrator. That said, a few weeks in, I’m seeing the value of the practice. It has the potential to reinforce the way we want to be in the world, support healthy self-awareness, and can help diffuse the might of an inner critic too many of us know too well.

Today

This morning, in the indigo hush of our home, I’m noting appreciation and gratitude that didn’t make it into the journal last night:

1. I appreciate that I stayed (mostly) calm and strong through my cancer treatments.

2. I appreciate that I am present and clearheaded, doing my best to raise my teenagers in ways that are bespoke to their unique needs (that seem to change weekly).

3. I appreciate that I know how to connect deeply with others, increasingly less armored, presented, surface-oriented. #babysteps

Gratitude is easier.

1. I am grateful for my health. Today feels very far away from starting radiation one year ago.

2. I am grateful for the profound and deepening love I feel from and for my people.

3. I am grateful for the friend who said this week that I “might have magic” and the magic I see in my sons. I’ll be exploring that more, that magic, with a newfound curiosity and courage.

It isn’t the big events of births, deaths, new brotherhood, even cancer treatments that define us. It’s how we relate and respond to them. I’m still learning to let all of the feelings move through, experience them fully, but then also choose what I carry from there. Do we choose dismissal, bitterness, or victimhood? Can we choose recognition and awareness, learning even? Grace? Gratitude? …Awe?

A Practice

Right now, take a moment of your own. Close your eyes, maybe even putting your hands over your heart. Yes, right now.

What are three things you can appreciate about yourself? “I appreciate that I…”

What are three things you are grateful for? “I am grateful for…”

It’s the little things, often, that make the biggest difference.

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Miscellaneous…

Sangha Saturdays… The next in-person version will be this *SUNDAY March 3rd at 9am PT in Mill Valley, CA (please RSVP!). The next Zoom version will be next Saturday March 9th at 9am PT. If you’d like to join, please indicate your interest here and you’ll be added to the (anonymous) calendar invitations. 🌟

Speaking of Gratitude… If you are not familiar with

Suleika Jaouad

and her incredible journey of using creativity as a tool for survival, I encourage an exploration. Her website is here and of course you can find to her Substack here. I also really enjoyed her recent conversation with Rich Roll, here. 🙏🏼

Nurturing a daily meditation practice takes…. practice. Please consider joining Soren and me for this ongoing series, The Power of Presence, in which we welcome a range of esteemed teachers including Roshi Joan Halifax, Rhonda Magee, Jack Kornfield, Jon Kabat-Zinn, Sharon Salzberg, and coming up on March 15th, Dan Harris of Ten Percent Happier. We practice together for ~25 minutes then explore in a Q&A model. 🎋