The Compass.

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

ode to a holiday season which thusfar seemed pretty bleak.

When the best part of your life no longer wants to be yours, it's time to take stock of what you have to live for. The holidays have always meant family (read family and friends who are like family) to me, but this year, single and with family and friends sparser than ever, I've had to stare down the real meaning of Thanksgiving: the giving thanks part.

I am thankful to have been born with all five of my senses, able-bodied and (so far as I can tell) able-minded. I am thankful for all ten of my fingers and everything they can and ever will do for me. I am thankful to have been born in a place where electricity, hot water, internet access, and all manner of mundane luxuries are the norm. I am thankful to have been born in California, where Reno, Vegas, San Francisco, Hawaii and LA are just a jump away. I am still privileged, even if I'm not proud, to be an American. I am thankful for the people brave enough to fight our wars, regardless of my acute misgivings about the wars. I am thankful to have two jobs I love, which is two more than I had last year at this time. I am thankful to have college available to me, even if I'm waffling and unable to take it on right now.

I am thankful for the way conflict and sheer time have sloughed off insincere and fickle friends. A man is like a stone in a stream, and when the tide runs high and the waters run harsh and cold, there are very few people who won't wash away with it. I am thankful for the gems who still remain after the storm. I think you know who you are. I am thankful for a best friend who remains closer than ever after thirteen years of growing up. I am thankful for the time I had with Sean, though what I'll take away from it in the long run remains to be seen. I am thankful for my mom, who is one of maybe only two people on this earth who loves me truly unconditionally (read: for exactlywho I am, nurturing my strengths and forgiving me my flaws), and I'm grateful that I'm at least wise enough to know how valuable that is. I am thankful that she has been such a good role model. I am thankful for all the time my grandparents, who are dead now, spent raising me, and I regret that the reality of their deaths did not set in until after the fact. I am thankful for my dad and his parents, who, despite 20 years of separation, have never forgotten me. I am thankful for the Harrises, who are everywhere in my life now and treat me like family even though the last thing they need is more people in their family (haha), and for the Faifereks, who have saved my butt plenty of times when I was in a bind or just needed a semi-surrogate family, and always treat me like family, no matter how seldom I visit. I am thankful that I have thus far never been homeless, starving, truly alone, or had to weather the death of someone I couldn't live without. Heartbreak has slapped me upside the head more times than I care to think about, but real tragedy has never touched me, and I'm grateful.

I am thankful that I have learned hard lessons already, that I have reached into many of the farthest corners of man's emotional gamut, and regained equilibrium. I am thankful that, despite not believing in god, fate, or the afterlife, I find meaning and purpose in every day of my life. I am thankful that I can cook and draw and paint and write and I am thankful for all the possibilities those abilities may afford me in the future. The list goes on, and it includes small things too. I am thankful to be Irish, and plan to go home some day to drink a ton of Guinness and stand in the presence of ruined castles. I am thankful for The Simpsons, which I still love despite their shitty new episodes, and Futurama, which keeps me distracted and amused when the I can't shake the weight of the things that nag at me. I am thankful for the color orange, and for plaid, and for coffee (!) and for cats, and warm blankets and fire places and beer and pecan pie and... oh, and for Mollly, who is just a dog but still loves me unconditionally, and is probably less of a pain in the ass than a human sister.

I've sworn myself to never forgetting that my problems are relatively small in magnitude. Thank you.