HOW GRATITUDE, HOW JOY

Brother David Steindl-Rast

I'm interested in feeling gratitude, and experiencing joy in my life.  Today, my son Andy came over to help hitch up my Bear Tracks trailer (I'm very proud of my aluminum trailer!), load a lawn mower to take it to repair, then load and take materials from his shed to the land fill.  We talked about movies, the interesting character of the mechanic at the lawn mower repair shop, the endangered arts of poetry and essays....we were full of our lighthearted selves.  I had to take Oliver and Miss Kitty with us because I didn't want to leave Miss Kitty alone while she is adjusting to Keppra, her epilepsy med.  And, of course, Oliver would have been hurt to stay home all alone.  It was a simple morning really, but I felt joy.  Or, I should say, I allowed myself to feel joy, and gratitude.  I remember when Ted died, my grief counselor reassured me that I would feel joy again some day.  Why would I want to do that?  Why would I want to have fun and lollygag when Ted is dead?  Those were my thoughts.  I didn't know that joy is a by-product of gratitude -- a happiness that comes from being and feeling completely enough, and satisfied with what I have and who I am.  I thought joy was another word for fun, as in a party or a joke.  I've discovered that parties and jokes can be fun, but feelings of being enough, being satisfied with what I have and who I am can be rare.  Recently, I listened to a podcast that helped me understand why a life of gratitude and joy is sometimes hard to live.  Brother David Steindl-Rast, now in his nineties, is a Benedictine monk, teacher, and author.  He is the founder and senior advisor for A Network for Grateful Living.  You can listen to the podcast at this URL, on the blog, On Being.  http://bit.ly/1VbzZZp    Brother David describes it this way:  You feel joy bubbling up inside, gratitude, happiness....it's going to spill over, like water spilling from the bowl of a sink.  Just as it is going to spill over -- in song, writing, smiling, hugging, dancing, doing good spontaneously -- a commercial comes on and tells you that you aren't enough yet, you aren't complete yet, you aren't okay until you buy this.  And in response to these commercials, messages, ideas, we respond by needing/acquiring a bigger bowl.  We make it so that gratitude and joy can never become full.  Go somewhere else, be more, better, bigger, faster.  Practicing gratitude for this moment, and everything that is in this moment, and feeling joy and allowing it to be so much that it spills over -- this is how to build a joyful life of gratitude.  My daughter, Caroline, called me, exuberant about a job she just applied for.  She is satisfied with the work she put into the application.  It is hard for Caroline to experience the trial and error life demands of all of us.  She is fearful of trying and failing -- since she sometimes mistakes error for fail.  Today she was happy, joyful and grateful and spilling it out to her mom.  She doesn't know if she'll get the promotion, but she is experiencing the fullness of her joy and gratitude for overcoming her fear.  Being a widow is a LOT of trial and error.  Many of us already feel at times that we should have been able to do and be more for our life partner.  It takes a long, long time for most of us to feel enough, to feel gratitude for the joy we experience, and the faith that our dear one is experiencing joy as well, as mysterious as that may feel to our rational mind at times.  When I say I am interested now in a life of gratitude and joy, it no longer fills me with guilt or doubt about Ted, and the idea that I am leaving him behind somehow.   I even find that I will work on the strength to ignore commercials, practice a life of gratitude for who and what I am, the little, dear phone calls and visits I get from my kids and grandkids and friends.  I can feel joy that is overflowing.  I will deliberately practice it for the love I feel for Ted, and the fact that I feel closer to him when I am experiencing gratitude and joy that is overflowing.  It's raining out and not quite sundown.  I still have time to drive down to the Edmonds pier and see what sundown has to tell me.