Gratitude for the Simple Gifts by Laura Orem

Happy Thanksgiving!

I have many things to be thankful for this year. First, that I am alive and cancer-free. Second, for my incredible family and friends who not only have buoyed me on this insane rapid-shoot, but who remind me again and again of how lucky we poets and artists are, to be able to do the work we do. Third...

Well, I could go on and on.

I think most people, if they stop and breathe and think for a minute, can come up with a list like this. We are good at remembering the big stuff. It is, after all, the big stuff. What is more difficult is to be mindful of the smaller bounty we receive every day, the "simple gifts" of the Shaker hymn that enrich us, the things that we take for granted and so almost always overlook.

For me, these are things like strong coffee with cream in it, being able to sing, my animals, the way frozen grass crunches under my shoes, hot baths in my old clawfoot bathtub, getting back my curly hair, birds at the window feeder, The New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle, cookies (any variety), colored Sharpie pens...and a million others. What are yours?

Here are two gifts from me to you. Happy Thanksgiving, I say. You're on my gratitude list, too, you know.

Dusting

by Marilyn Nelson 

Thank you for these tiny
particles of ocean salt,
pearl-necklace viruses,
winged protozoans:
for the infinite,
intricate shapes
of submicroscopic
living things.

For algae spores
and fungus spores,
bonded by vital
mutual genetic cooperation,
spreading their
inseparable lives
from equator to pole.

My hand, my arm,
make sweeping circles.
Dust climbs the ladder of light.
For this infernal, endless chore,
for these eternal seeds of rain:
Thank you. For dust.

from The Fields of Praise, New and Selected Poems, LSU Press, 1997

 

Comments

[Leslie McGrath]

What a beautiful post, Laura. And that poem by Marilyn Nelson is a wonder.

I've been thinking about my list of gratitudes over the last few days as I've readied our old house for Thanksgiving. It was built in 1749, along with a simple barn and a stone corral (with six-foot walls so the sheep couldn't escape, I've been told) in a part of rural CT that was once Pequot Indian land. The Mashantucket tribe here owns much of the surrounding acres, including Foxwoods casino a couple of miles away. The woods that now surround our house were rolling fields only 80 years ago. Like much of New England, it's regrown its forest, re-covering itself in both ways. I often walk into the woods thinking of the image of Mother Earth having pulled her hair over her downturned face in an effort to shade the violence that happened here.

My husband and I have loved this house and have shepherded it into the 21st century, adding a new kitchen, a woodstove in the keeping room (whose fires were kept burning all winter in order to keep the enormous stone fireplace at the house's core warm)and building bookcases and closets true to the colonial period. But here, even the colonial period seems recent. This is an old, old place, like every place is, but moreso.

I'm grateful for chances to start over. And I'm grateful for forgiveness, from whatever quarter it comes.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friend. And to David and Stacey wherever they are today.

[Laura Orem]

Thanks, Leslie. Your house is like you - warm and inviting and full of good things.

[Grace Cavalieri]

What a treasure, Laura. And how wonderful to see into Leslie's home through you..You bring so many of us together.I'm glad for dusty you.

[Maria van Beuren]

Sometimes life is just a matter of getting through the next half hour. I drove to my parents' house for Thanksgiving dinner, bringing a covered Pyrex dish of steamed brussel sprouts. At some point, I made a sharp turn and the Pyrex dish slid right off the leather seat onto everything I had carefully placed "out of harm's way" on the floor of the car. (Note to self: Pyrex + leather is a greased skid.) So, my Thanksgiving gratitude was an extremely practical thanks for the lid that did NOT come off the Pyrex dish. Whew. After I calmed down, I remembered to give thanks for dogs; wonderful, talented (and pretty) friends; and poets and poetry.

[Heidi Lynn Staples]

I totally agree with you about gratitude for all things great and small. A ritual we've instituted as part of keeping in touch with my mother is what we call The Gratefuls. Many a bedtime, my daughter, myself, and my mother via Skype take turns listing what we're grateful for as part of that particular day. Sometimes we name the big'uns like health, some days the color of the sky, and most always the simple fact of experiencing each other. I like that ye ol' Einstein quote: "“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”

[Laura Orem]

Great quote, Heidi! Thanks for posting!