A Good Morning

As I lay only a little awake 15 minutes ago, thoughts of thankfulness played in my groggy brain. I stretched out belly down on my bed, also stretching my hands and feet and wiggling my fingers and toes. "Thank you!" I said to myself for feeling and smelling and hearing and tasting. Now I'm showered and my coffee is brewing, and I get to say "Good morning".

Gayle, my friend in substance and in spirit, has been talking to those who gather with her at various times about gratitude. We talk about so much more. “I am thankful for all that my life is and all that my life isn’t, especially what my life isn’t.” It doesn’t take much thought to assign meaning to that statement—what my life is and what my life isn’t.

Following the gentle but enthusiastic advice of my friend, I am forming the habit of giving thanks—before I go to sleep, when I first wake up in the morning, and any time during the day or night when monkey mind is trying to have its way with me. To remember family—now my two older sisters and our only aunt still living, along with the cousins who have been a part of my life in some way these 67 years—and the friends who let me know regularly that they want to spend time with me (How precious is that!) comes to mind so readily. To give thanks for the comforts of my home, the gifts of intelligence and creativity, for the privilege of expressing this intelligence and creativity, for the education gifted by my parents and the ability to earn a living, for opportunity to travel, even in some relatively modest way—all of this I could so easily take for granted.

Today I will follow my routine of reading for learning and growing and for fun. I will walk for health and nourish my body with good food. I will gather with fellow sojourners. I will talk to my sisters and, no doubt, to at least a couple of my friends. I will meet someone new, and in this meeting I will have the opportunity to make a loving difference in someone’s life.

As I lay half asleep earlier this morning, thoughts of thankfulness played in my groggy brain. I stretched out belly down on my bed, also stretching my hands and feet and wiggling my fingers and toes. An image of a cat leap- trotting across some terrain danced in my head. No particular fan of cats, although I appreciate their beauty and pay attention to their clever and amusing ways, I wonder about that image. "Hmm, thank you!" I said to myself for feeling and smelling and hearing and tasting. Now I'm showered, my coffee is brewed and lovely tasting, and I get to say "Good morning".

A Good Morning—Santa Fe, New Mexico (August 18, 2010)
R. Harold Hollis