I feel like I’m in a whirlwind–preparing for New York, some last-minute rescheduling, no hotel yet, la, la, la.
But today I feel overflowing with gratitude for the sunny day. It’s amazing what one bright, blue-sky day can do for me. And I’m guessing I’m not the only one.
Earlier today, a colleague and I were talking about our “tough it out” culture–how sometimes we’re so adamantly self-reliant that we don’t ask for or even accept help when we really need it, when it might be a whole lot smarter to let someone give us some support.
Later, while I was walking home, a young woman out jogging passed me and then tripped on the sidewalk ramp and sprained her ankle. She was really hurting! But she kept saying, “I’m okay, I’m okay.” And as the veteran of several knee trashings, I thought, “No, you could use some help.” She sent everyone away who stopped, but I just couldn’t leave so I sort of hovered on the edge like a mother crow, trying to respect wishes and privacy while also staying available, while she started calling people to come and get her. She wouldn’t let me give her a shoulder when she decided to hop over to the little sidewalk table outside the corner restaurant. It sounds like I’m blaming the victim. I’m not trying to blame the victim, but I am saying that sometimes it’s better to let someone give you a hand. I’m glad I’ve learned that.
This past week, last week, I’ve felt grateful for resilience–that’s the way the ball bounces: it bounces back.
I’ve also been grateful for Sarah’s help with finding another reader–and introducing me to the work of some poets I hadn’t read before.
I’m thankful for insights in the middle of the night, thankful for falling back to sleep and for the crazy dreams about the movie being filmed at the inn and riding around on a bus with John Cusack and then the Ravenna garden circle with all the arty containers and the invasion of the ducks and a crashing blimp (but it had a parachute!) and my friend Beth and a Bandicoot.
And I’m thankful for an acceptance from Cold Mountain–one of the poems from the next book.
We’re into the next week–trying to figure out (and articulate) where I want to be in five years.
Open the door. Open my heart.