12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY TWO

Yesterday I spent some time with my little ones outside again. I love the magic that fresh air often provides to our spirits. We’ve been working on a project this year in the back yard. For me, it’s a project to transform the back yard into the back garden. That distinction is lost on the kids, of course. They are simply enjoying the opportunity to dig in new dirt. I’m enjoying the opportunity to reclaim something.

I call it “the pile.” The back corner of my property had been left as a growing debris pile for many years — the place where unwanted plants, dirt, clippings, and limbs were all left to decay. As “the pile” grew, it had become an eyesore. The huge display of rotting and drying vegetation had begun to take over the yard, the view and my enthusiasm. In my mind “the pile” had become a symbol of growing frustration with other areas of my life I felt had been neglected and left to dry up and wither. Areas that seemed to be taking over and squelching my vitality.

Beyond that, “the pile” had become shameful to me. It was ugly. It was unkept. It was irresponsible. It was intimidating. It represented my own resistance to stand up and cultivate the life of significance I really want.

I’m writing in past tense. It WAS. Back in the Spring, I decided to tackle “the pile” and operation reclamation began. I hired someone to come and haul the pile away leaving bare ground. Slowly (with the help of my Mom and the cheers of my kids) I’ve thought through that plot of earth’s possibilities. I’ve marked off areas for plantings. We’ve pruned and cleared unwanted plants. We planted azaleas and tea olive shrubs. We added a wooden swing. With great excitement, we hauled in a funky shaped playhouse for Baby Girl’s birthday. We even added a few plants around its little stoop.

All the while, we’ve been giggling. We’ve been digging. We’ve been getting muddy. We’ve been working. We’ve been planning and imagining. We’ve been ENJOYING that space. We’ve been LIVING in that space.

Yesterday, we put out seed in that space. We bought the rye seed. We stood amazed at how tiny they were. We dumped them into the seed spreader and we rolled them out into that reclaimed earth.

As I think about Thanksgiving and the recognition of bounty it provides, I can’t help but be reminded about the power of sowing seeds. About the need to clear ground before new growth can occur. About the joy and confidence that comes from reclaiming what has been squelched. About the reminder that spaces must be empty before they can be filled. Bit by bit, step by step, cultivating is inspiring. In all its messy stages. It’s admirable. It’s worthy of gratitude for each foothold that is gained.

It’s so easy to focus attention on where we are NOT in this journey of living. It’s so easy to give credence to the place we haven’t yet reached. It’s so easy to discount the necessary small (and big) steps it takes to get there. I’m so thankful for “the pile’s” tangible reminder that green grass — the grass I can’t see now — begins with removing dead branches. It begins with determining that something must be cleared if I am to gain NEW ground. I’m thankful for the reminder that preparing the earth is a necessary step in enjoying bounty.

DAY ONE

Today is Sunday — the one that’s a week and a half before Thanksgiving. If I’m going to commit to the Eyejunkie 4th Annual 12 Days of Thanksgiving posting series, today is the day to begin. I woke up thinking that this morning.

Fourth annual. I can hardly believe it’s correct to even write that. Yet, it is. It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve been writing this blog long enough to have a 4th annual anything. But, I guess I have. As I’ve glanced through the  12 Days themes of year one, year two and year three, it’s easy for me to see the changes in my own life — my own heart — as portrayed through this odd little record. It’s easy to see the constant aspects as well.

I’ve spent the last week trying to decide if I really wanted to bite off the daily morsel of a 12-day writing commitment this year. On Friday at the end of a long (and somewhat busy) week, I was feeling the pressure of many things. One of those things was the choice of writing about Thanksgiving for twelve days. The choice of thinking about thanksgiving for twelve days, in addition to everything else that seems to be enveloping my mind. To say it was daunting at that moment is an understatement. Honestly, I really couldn’t imagine how I would do it.

“My life is so empty right now.”

Ha! I actually had that thought. As I sit here taking a rest from the morning playing with Little Drummer Boy, Bug and Baby Girl, I know that statement doesn’t even approach the truth. I mean, not even close. Yet, I thought it. And although I knew the folly of it almost before I articulated it in my mind’s voice, still there was some element of the statement I had to consciously admit and explore.

My life is not empty. But, at least at that moment, my spirit was. My gumption was. My joy meter. My energy level.

It happens sometimes. There is something about life that squeezes us out — even if we don’t mean to get wrung. Sometimes it’s the reality of grabbing everything we can from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of scraping the bottom of the barrel to claim at least something from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of carving out time and energy and brain space from a multitude of activity to believe we are actually having an experience at all — a life. And, whatever combination of those realities had materialized in my thinking over the last few weeks, the result manifested itself as a sincere and credible feeling of emptiness.

The great chasm between empty and bounty doesn’t really have alot to do with how much is in the refrigerator or the closet or the project list. In my limited experience, it doesn’t have much to do with the bottom line or the season’s record or whatever other tangible poll standings my thoughts may try to calculate.

No, if the last three years of 12-day thanksgiving experiments holds true, the transition from empty to bounty has nothing to do with those things. And everything to do with perspective. An internal perspective, a way of seeing and interpreting that leaves us bursting rather than wanting.

About two seconds after the fateful thought of “my life is so empty” crossed my consciousness, I knew. I knew I was in serious need of a perspective adjustment. There is a certain misery that I imagine results from spending a life running on empty. I believe the joy of gratitude is just the jump start needed to shift the balance. My own experience can testify that the giving of thanks is a heart and mind readjustment. It can provide a recognition that enables me to draw my living from overflow rather than from scarcity. Life DOES overflow. MY life overflows. My life is full of many precious things and people and experiences. I don’t want to claim “living” from any other perspective.

So, the 12-day experiment in the power of gratitude begins again. A journey from empty to bounty. Join me.