I have always had a difficulty with forced gratitude. That Thanksgiving tradition, when everyone expresses something that they are grateful for, was always hard for me. I felt like such things should flow from the moment, spontaneous outpourings of emotion. And yet, when I really allow myself to feel and express my appreciation, in spite of being asked, I feel it deeply - as if the cells in my chest swell up with joy and sing.

The thing is, gratitude has the power to change your perspective instantly. Imagine, in the middle of a bad day, you start thinking of all the people and things that you love in your life. Not only thinking it, but feeling through your body and your being. In my experience, it makes everything seem softer and much easier to deal with. I often get other great ideas in that moment to change things even further.  

Here’s an example: I remember a time, in my late teens, when my dad had just reprimanded me and all my siblings – then had gone up to his room. We (the kids) sat stewing, angry about the injustice of it all, cursing parents and everything they didn’t understand – would NEVER understand. And in the back of my mind, I knew that my dad was having a really bad day. Maybe even a bad week. And this sneaky little thought came to mind – He really is a great dad.

Humph. I thought in return. I was enjoying the anger. I didn’t want to admit anything of the sort. Unfortunately for my anger, the thought remained.

So, with a bit more internal struggle, I told my siblings. “I think he’s actually a good dad. And, I think we should go tell him.”

They were stunned. But, with a bit of persuasion, we trekked upstairs, knocked at the door, and told him. It was sooo hard – I still wanted to be angry. But with that, the entire day changed. The angry storm of resentment yielded to blue skies and lighter spirits. And to this day, I can still feel how hard that was and how much better it felt when I was done.

I still have trouble with that level of expressing gratitude, and honestly, I don’t think it is always necessary to get those feeling out in the open. Sometimes, we just have to remember the beautiful life we have to change a tough moment.

Try this: Think of something you are grateful for. Imagine that appreciation sweeping through your mind, your life, and every cell in your body. Notice how it feels, and relish it for awhile. Now that you know what it feels like, practice until it becomes easier to feel. Then, on that tough day, in that difficult moment, bring out the gratitude…

Happy Holidays,
Ephraim

P.S. I’m back at the Examiner! You’ll see a repeat between the two sites … though we’ll see over time if variations emerge.

Happiness is as easy as a little gratitude. Check out this hilarious excerpt from Conan O’Brien. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll think about it…

This video came from Usually Barefoot Meg - lots of comments to peruse there as well. For more information on this comedian, check out the wiki for Louis CK.

Susan Seddon-Boulet

Do you know that you are beautiful? That the Goddess sings through your voice? That your words are Her words; your song, Her song. That the smoothness of your skin, the glisten of your sweat, your tousled hair – all are a delightful expression of your beauty and your passion. It radiates from you, this glow of pure expression.

May it overwhelm you. May this joy and light be embodied by you and every woman on the planet, a gift to yourself that takes you to the exultant heights of your creativity and ecstasy. For that is what you are. Pure, passionate creation.

May you hear this in the wind, the waves, the whisper of your lover. May you feel it in the warmth of the sun, the flow of your steps, the freshness of your breath. May you know it in your heart, your bones and your belly.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

I stumbled on this fabulous quote from L. Frank Baum:

Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.

I can’t overemphasize the power of breath. A single deep breath has the power to calm your entire body - actually moves you one step closer to the parasympathetic nervous process of “rest and repose”. Traditions ranging from physical to emotional to spiritual emphasize the power of the breath in one way to change your state. I use breath in my practice to help anchor emotions in the body, to allow you to feel them more fully, to move and expand them.

So stop holding your breath.

Happy Friday,
Ephraim

Her voice caught me from the first note, swelling through the concert hall in a wave of sound. I didn’t speak the language – wouldn’t understand a thing until the English aria near the end. It didn’t matter. In fact, I barely glanced at the translations included with the program. I didn’t want to be distracted.

Just a single voice and a piano player. Her expressions danced from anger to sorrow to thoughtful to flirtatious – I could feel the emotion without understanding the words. She leaned against the grand piano when it fit the music. I appreciated the beauty of her, the invitation to be watched and admired. Her accompanist beautiful too, as she swayed with the playing, her foot pumping the pedals. The curves of the women and the piano, the golden lines of the stage, the black and white of her dresses. I wrapped myself in the sheer sensuality of the experience, let my mind wander on the notes, a Fantasia of ideas and images…

I found myself wanting to write. I was surprised and delighted by this desire. In the past, musical and theater performances have made me want to get on stage and act or sing. I’ve felt inadequate or sometimes better than the performer. I became caught in comparisons.

This time, I only thought about talents I already have. My imagination took me into fantastic journeys of well-crafted words. I relished the thought of fine-tuning the drafts until I was satisfied. Then offering it up to whoever wanted listen, like me, here, in this concert hall.

I thought about other art that had inspired me. Not just performances, but also great books and movies, poetry slams, galleries of art. Soaring architecture and brilliant sculpture and delicious, beautiful plates of food.

I realized that in my search for creativity, I had always thought it should be original - an idea fueled by inspiration from some divine source. And none of that mattered here. I could fly on the inspiration of this voice and this piano player wherever it wanted to take me. I could build on this music, this experience, make it a part of whatever I was trying to create.

The last piece was Samuel Barber’s “Knoxville: Summer of 1915”. Barber had read a poem by James Agee and was so inspired he put it to music. I smiled with appreciation at the synchronicity. A musician, inspired by a poet to create a beautiful work, to be enjoyed by me almost 60 years later. Inspiration doesn’t emerge from a vacuum – it’s right here, on the wings of these poets and composers and singers. It’s in the boldness of someone willing to get on stage and put their soul out there.

If you are missing that creative spark, try indulging in a live performance. Or pick up a really great book. Read some poetry, go to a gallery. Let the sheer magnificence of human imagination revive your passion. It surely did mine.

I sometimes fall victim to Toxic Option Syndrome. I think it is most commonly associated with shopping – so many brands and stores and colors and sizes. So many that I stand in a stupor and buy nothing. For more minutes than I care to admit.

And the in-store thing is really a minor event. In the end, who really cares which one? But when it comes to life decisions, it’s a different story. What’s the next step in my business or my career or my relationship? What is my life path? Where should I focus my creativity? And if I inch my toe into one idea, what about all those others that come flooding in? What if I waste my valuable time? Or my money? And this whole thing is a dead end? Then what have I done to myself?

Can’t I do all of them? I’m a multitasker! I’ll just do these seven projects and learn to draw and launch this class, and, and…

And so, the obvious choice is just like the store. Stand in a stupor and hope the answer comes – only in this case it can last for days, months, years, lifetimes. And standing there still doesn’t tell me the RIGHT one. Surely there is a right answer!? (as I glare suspiciously at the heavens.)

Honestly, I don’t find myself in that place as often as I used to, thanks to some advice I received a few years ago.

“Just DO something. Anything. Pick one and go!”

“But…” I stammered. And was interrupted immediately.

“No buts! This isn’t permanent. But you have to ACT, or there’s nothing to work with. A little action in any direction gives the universe something to build on. And that way, you might be able to avoid a cosmic club to the side of the head.”

That didn’t sound good.

So, I did something. Not something I was really excited about, but it was an opportunity knocking. After awhile, there were more knocks on the door. Some literal, some profitable, some very exciting. And it keeps happening, as long as I’m putting in some energy or motion or action. Yes, you can coast for awhile, but it takes some care and feeding to see it grow. I was amazed that it actually worked. And continues to work over and over.

So get out there and just do it! Stop thinking about the possibilities and move those ideas into tangible creation. You can even set a timeline for yourself. Say, three months. Or a month. Even a couple weeks of concerted effort.  If nothing happens, or you don’t like it after than time, then try something else.

See, it wasn’t so bad.

I was dead, then alive.
Weeping, then laughing.

The power of love came into me,
and I became fierce like a lion,
then tender like the evening star.

He said, ‘You’re not mad enough.
You don’t belong in this house.’

I went wild and had to be tied up.
He said, ‘Still not wild enough
to stay with us!’

I broke through another layer
into joyfulness.

He said, ‘Its not enough.’
I died.

He said, ‘You are a clever little man,
full of fantasy and doubting.’

I plucked out my feathers and became a fool.
He said, ‘Now you are the candle
for this assembly.’

But I’m no candle. Look!
I’m scattered smoke

He said, ‘You are the Sheikh, the guide.’
But I’m not a teacher. I have no power.

He said, ‘You already have wings.
I cannot give you wings.’

But I wanted his wings.
I felt like some flightless chicken.

Then new events said to me,
‘Don’t move. A sublime generosity is
coming towards you.’

And old love said, ‘Stay with me.’

I said, ‘I will.’

You are the fountain of the sun’s light.
I am a willow shadow on the ground.
You make my raggedness silky.

The soul at dawn is like darkened water
that slowly begins to say Thank you, thank you.

Then at sunset, again, Venus gradually
Changes into the moon and then the whole nightsky.

This comes of smiling back
at your smile.

The chess master says nothing,
other than moving the silent chess piece.

That I am part of the ploys
of this game makes me
amazingly happy.
-Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

Aliveness is only the beginning! And laughter is one of the great signs of that. I see it as exhilaration really, dancing and spinning in the sheer beauty of joy and laughter. And then comes the madness - the madness of divine irrationality perhaps - a joy that is truly incomprehensible to those who are not in it. Who can truly understand surrender so great, so huge? And in this poem, even dieing is not the end, but another beginning.

What do you think?