Good Morning!
I know this is landing in your mailbox later; I’m going to let you in on a behind the scenes. Some of my posts are definitely written ahead, but every so often I get this tap on my shoulder that something else needs to be sent. That happened this morning.
I know from a business perspective since I had something already scheduled that might not be the most productive—but it’s honest. I wonder your thoughts? Is it too much? The post I am going to send you (it’ll come out next Monday) is also about that: the messy humanity that we often blame but can be the thing that makes life so very sweet.
Thanks for letting me rant. It is Cyber Monday today and if you haven’t subscribed to this little space, consider supporting the work and sharing it with others. There are potential substack fellowships on the horizon and Im envisioning The Golden Thread to be a contender.
I had a good Thanksgiving. Now, wait. I know Thanksgiving is a foundationally flawed holiday. I know it sits atop of Indigenous genocide and needs to be reconfigured. Believe me I know and support this. I ask you this: How do we reconfigure it without throwing out the only holiday that is not about purchasing gifts and is about gathering around food and family? How do we rework tradition into the present moment?
So, that is not the focus entirely of this post because the terrain would not to be multi-voiced and nuanced and contain a history lesson larger than this container and most likely told by someone more vetted than I to do it justice. You could listen to what Dallas Gooldtooth (who I learned about during Standing Rock) has to say.
I do want to turn towards one Thanksgiving that this Thanksgiving made me think of. I guess I need to wind even further back to say: Thanksgiving is a prime holiday of my childhood. When I was a little bipper I can remember driving up to my Great Grandparents house in Bethlehem, PA, being squished in the row home overflowing of cousins and aunts and uncles, and great aunts and uncles, and third cousins, and cousins that you can’t do the math on. I remember sitting on the landing step of my Great Grandmother’s pristine and warm German-American home and holding the iron terrier dog that sat on the floor, and petting it as if it were alive. It is one of the only family relics I have, actually. A great aunt called and said, “You need to have Gram’s dog.” And that was that. It sits in my bedroom today.
I remember clamoring across the street with my cousins, my grandfather and his brothers across the cemetery to shoot a can with a BB gun. I remember the year I got it. I remember when the years changed and I would peel out of school, now a high school teacher, on a Wednesday, car packed to head down to Ocean City, NJ where my same grandparents and immediate aunties would have a house for the week. A week full of cold beach walks, puzzles, food, and many songs. Memories that still call forth a feeling of preciousness.
Thanksgiving to me has always been a full house and my grandmother’s epic stuffing. No one else on the planet can compare because it tastes like childhood and warm hands and love of lineages.
Then I remember the Thanksgiving I was in the most beautiful place in my world: Kaua’i and I was alone. I had an invite to a new friend’s gathering, but it was large and I was uncertain, so many things in my life had dissolved that I thought it was best to keep to myself.
I can remember that Thanksgiving because I never made that mistake again. Not the mistake of being alone—I am actually good at that. I mean the mistake of turning away from love. Turning away from community because of uncertainty. (Ultimately, I made no mistake because there was learning of course but let’s keep on that metaphorical path.) Turning away instead of turning toward. I can remember that before that holiday I had so many perspectives on how my family didn’t know this or that, or needed to change. Let me slow down, there were dynamics that needed to change, but what that Thanksgiving alone began—because it was a process—was an epoch of my change; of my learning boundaries and growth and reestablishing what I needed to emanate all the time, not just with friends or where it was easy, but also with family without me expecting them to change. I realized how many people didn’t have the entourage I had, and that I missed them and I needed to reevaluate how to bring my past in alignment with my present understanding of myself, my life, and the growth of my perspectives that were expanding.
We must look forward with absolute equanimity
To everything that may come.And we must think only that whatever comes
Is given to us by a world-directive full of wisdom.It is part of what we must learn in this age,
namely, to live out of pure trust,
Without any security in existence.Trust in the ever present help
Of the spiritual world.Truly, nothing else will do
If our courage is not to fail us.-Rudolph Steiner
I have been wanting to share that quote with you for awhile, especially the first line: “Look forward with absolute equanimity to everything that may come.” I recently realized I am really not that good at that.
I was shocked.
I think I thought I was good at it because I have previously been so good at rising and doing (which is a great trait and I love it) but that is not equanimity. I want to add that beat first. The non-reactive, and then I can call forth the fire if needed.
I see that a lot around the holidays, the drawing from the past of what did not serve (for good reason and our liberation of what did not serve is important), but what about alchemizing the not-so-great and building upon what was good? I’m not super keen on this 0 or 1 world. Good and bad. Right or wrong. What about the grey? I’m a combination of great and not so great; a bit of excellence and needed upgrades. What about the chance to change, or to grow and improve upon the legacy of memory? Is it just me? I mean clearly there is a falling away happening in humanity right now, but falling away is different than disowning. What about evolving?
So this Thanksgiving, when my son spent 35 minutes on a different step landing with his toys because he wasn’t ready to join the festivities I got agitated. There I said it. BUT, I also laid the boundary of the moment. I was not going to cave. I mean, I tried to console him, reason with him, and even shush him, but ultimately my presentience won over and I left him with the inordinate amount of toys that we had packed and he sat on the same metaphorical landing that I took refuge in when I was little. But I let him, and I joined the long legged elders that were holding the tradition that we as children at once repel from and gain foundational substance in. It’s both. That’s where the equanimity comes in. It’s good and bad. It’s awesome and messy. It’s family. It’s humanity and it’s not ever, ever going to be perfect. But thank God it is.
In the moment realization: Funny thing friends, I didn’t put together the correlation that my son and I both were landing seekers. It was only in listening to the quiet prompting this morning to unschedule my original post and sit down and write, following that The Golden Thread that the larger picture presented herself.
May the same impetus find you and may a peace from what was thread through your day and make way for new support for you and yours.
I’ll leave it at that.
Thanks for reading.
P.S.Hey, before you go please read below:
Question for Subscribers, I originally posted writing prompts here and I am in the plannning for next year...
and I am wondering what you are interested: live writing circle, more resources, writing support? Can you let me know below?It’ll take 1 minute and 30 seconds and it will help me plan for a better 2022 inspirations. Click here.
Thanks family!