Thanksgrieving

The spirit of gratitude feels far away from me. I know I'm grateful for a ton of real things. My health and wellbeing, and that of my loved ones. The space and time I've had this year to heal. The light of the moon peaking into my window. My 5 jump ropes. Avocado ice cream. Being 6th wheel to my sister's family. My nephew's brownies. My friendships, new and familiar. Long hikes. My hugging pillow. Cobra Kai. Adorable new babies. Dharma. Quietude. Essential workers at the front line. Meaningful work and service. 

There's so much to be thankful for. Yet in my body, my gratitude feels distant and hollow. I reach my hand out but can't grasp onto anything beyond the surface. This holiday season, the weight of grief and sadness feels especially heavy. Thanksgiving in particular feels like a glaring symbol of death, transition, and renewal that arrives from loss. Thanksgiving was established by white colonizers after a brutal massacre of Indigenous people. Centuries later, a modern day massacre in the form of a pandemic leaves a disproportionate number of Native Americans dead. The truth of Thanksgiving is a lot harder to mask this year than any other. The world is collectively grieving 1.43 million deaths from COVID, countless deaths of precious Black and Brown bodies at the hands of racist systems, several more deaths of iconic humans this past year, and the unimaginable decay of wildlife and ecosystems due to climate change. Mother Earth is weeping. And I am weeping with her.    

In my inner world, I am struggling with this holiday season as I continue to hold grief from my own journey. Two Thanksgivings ago, I took my first step towards greater clarity and freedom. This step required me to risk disrupting a world as I knew it, in order to honor my truth. Today, I grieve the person I was before that Thanksgiving. I grieve the loss that came from choosing myself. I grieve the collective loss and suffering felt in the world. I grieve to honor what's difficult, to honor the complexity of it all, to honor the layers and everything in between them. I grieve to stay in connection with the human experience. I grieve to cleanse and clear away for what's emerging, things that I cannot yet see or name. 

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