I'm a big fan of "Thanks."
I believe gratitude is the fine line between good karma and bad karma, the difference between being an adult and being a child, and the only reprieve from the mindless pursuit of "more."
It's the great leveller of egos and bridger of gulfs, and it defines whether or not you're a parasite—no matter how much you actually give or take. Gratitude is such the natural product of reflection and introspection that it's the reason an unexamined life isn't worth living.
The giving of thanks is deserving of its own holiday, then, but why it's just another in the parade of family-friendly-face-stuffers is beyond me.
Today is Thanksgiving, which means that, notwithstanding venues who broke out the holly before the jack-o-lanterns had even wilted, Christmas basically starts tomorrow.
Black Friday, the sacramental tragedy of disordered priorities, is enough proof on its own that a focus on gratitude is more sorely needed during Christmastime than any other season.
Too conveniently to ignore, I think, Christmas also happens to include a natural vehicle for that gratitude, whereas the turkey is the only witness to much of the thanks given in November. A lot has changed, and this year some of my Christmas cards will be goodbyes, but by and large, they'll be thank-you cards, as always.
Some years, I've enumerated the things I'm thankful for to try to counteract a deep depression, or just as a ritual to maintain perspective, but this year I have to wax a little more philosophical.
The events of this year have made me re-evaluate my ideas about what's possible, and not just in the context of my own life. I've learned that sometimes art is imitating life when improbable good fortune visits movie protagonists, and not vice versa, which has turned my instinctive cynicism upside-down.
"Good fortune" hardly does justice to my good fortune, but my inability to qualify what I've experienced this year befits the awe that I feel.
I'm sure that, to any outsider, it doesn't appear that anything extraordinary happened to me. I'm still fundamentally the same person, which is to say I still have the same flaws and many of the same struggles. But something is suddenly gone—something small and bothersome and persistently discontent in the back of my mind, or maybe the pit of my stomach, that's been with me my whole adult life.
The quieting of that voice is priceless to me, and it's all I need to know about whether I'm headed in the right direction.
Until earlier this year, I would have felt foolish had I thought I could ever find myself where I am now. Sometimes it seems more surreal than others, but whether I can ever really get a grip on it or not, the worst thing I could ever do with it is take it for granted.
Moreso than love, even, gratitude sustains, tempers, motivates, and acts as an internal compass. Having both on my side is the most I could hope for.
Thank you.
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Beastie Boys - "Gratitude"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DowgvtLwIy0&feature=youtube_gdata_player
