Chin Up

I sat at the beach this morning and wondered why I felt so down. I watched the waves roll in, one after the other, noting how they hit the shore in increments, how they vary in strength. I thought about how far they come before they reach the shore, if they begin in Japan and cross the whole Pacific Ocean to land at my feet, or if they’ve just tripped up from Washington state. Either way, it shows marked perseverance on nature’s part, just as a crow pecking at the pebbles for its breakfast exemplified a focus I’ve lately been lacking.

On my way to the beach, a cyclist passed me coming the other way; as we came abreast of each other, he called, “Good morning!” I answered automatically and don’t remember if I smiled. I appreciated the greeting, though. He didn’t have to say anything, but he kindly acknowledged my existence and in so doing, reminded me that the world—that life—is wonderful. So I consciously called to mind my favourite Louis Armstrong song and made myself loop it until all the words fell into place:

I see trees of green, red roses too,

I see them bloom for me and you

And I think to myself

What a wonderful world …

It was a start. Hard work to keep it going, but a start nonetheless. Sitting quietly in the glow of the morning sun, I set aside the song for a minute and pondered the weight of my spirit during the past few days.

It’s been heavier than usual, no doubt about it.

I see skies of blue, clouds of white,

Bright blessed day and dark sacred night

And I think to myself

What a wonderful world …

Gratitude, I thought. To which I crossly replied, I’m always grateful. Every day, I am grateful. I say it, think it, believe it.

Yeah, Ru, but are you grateful enough?

Oh, s***, I am so not going there. I am not buying into the brownie point system I was taught in church. Grateful is grateful; there is no pro-rating. If I’m wrong, then the Zen Buddhist/metaphysical spirit stuff I’ve been absorbing these past years is as much a lie as the Christian orthodox crap I abandoned when I set myself free.

The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky,

Smiles on the faces of people passing by …

It’s not a matter of how. It’s a matter of what. Agreed, you are grateful. Now, what are you grateful for? and be specific.

Coming up with a list was harder in my bleakened frame of mind, but once I started, it got easier. Then I realized that the past few weeks have been so distracting that I’ve let my practice slide. As summer months go, July sucked. I had more dental work done and spent a lot of time in pain or on painkillers. The suite downstairs came off the market and went up as a rental. People at work were going through their own stuff, which subliminally affected the whole team. The novel continued to frustrate me. By the end of the month, I had even lost interest in writing. That really depressed me.

I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do

And really saying,

I love you …

It’s okay, Ru. Yup, life sucked and you lost your focus. You can get it back. Your teeth are fine, you’re off the drugs. You’ve met the folk who will be your downstairs neighbours. Work is work, but that won’t change. The novel will come back online. And you’re inspired to more than write again. You’re simply inspired.

I hear babies cry, watch them grow

They know much more than I’ll ever know

And I think to myself …

I flâneried around the point on my way back home. There’s a monument on the green that’s been in place for years but I’ve never paid it any attention. Today, I was prompted to look at it. It’s called “Millenium Peace” and was a gift to the city from a couple who wanted to honour Earth Day in 2000. The plaque quite plainly states that the piece is—and this is what really leaped out at me—“a touchstone of gratitude”.

There’s that word again. It’s not a matter of being grateful enough. It’s about gratitude for specifics. For the little things as well as the big things. For sun and sea; for love and hope; for my family and friends; especially for Ter; for my little bears and my favourite teacup and an extra day off this weekend. It’s even about the pain I endured during prep and installation of my dental bridge, when I was able to find moments of joy within moments of not. I am grateful for it all.

As I reached the corner of the street where I live, I met another random stroller who acknowledged my existence with a friendly “Good morning.”

“Hello,” I said back—and this time, I smiled.

What a wonderful world.