Recently, we woke up really low and found ourselves mired, tired, unable to think our way out of our sad mood. It occurred to us to ask “What’s good here?” Then we started writing.
We found ourselves writing an odd list which all began with “my”: a myriad of pleasures we encounter everyday, start our day with. That “my” somehow helped us feel what we get to have everyday, how fortunate we are,
This practice is akin to counting blessings, only in a slightly different, yet significant, form. The act of writing without editing, embracing what is ours by using “my”, was like opening gifts…
They became so tangible and deeply felt, they swept away the blues completely.
people who love what you do
or, i am sure, simply love that you are there
Yes, we love that you are there and can add “IL” to our list of “what’s good here”.
Thank you!
This is perfect. Thank you.
Sally, the fact that you have “my shoes” on there shows you have your priorities straight indeed! At least in my book! 🙂
Seriously, addressing the same feelings from the opposite side is a Buddhist exercise I was taught in which we may ask ourselves: “what is *truly* wrong at *this exact moment*?” Usually, because we create so much of our own suffering through pre-event worry and post-event rehashing, the answer is nearly always, “nothing is truly wrong at this exact moment.” I find it very helpful to calm what I call “piling on,” i.e., that tendency when one feels down about one thing to come up with an absolutely gigantic list of other things that are also irrevocably lousy. My exercise can cut through the clutter and your exercise can tip the scales in the opposite direction. Both good things to do.
When I feel blue for no apparent reason, I think, “Storm’s coming,” and look forward to rain or snow.
BIG (:
Thank you!
I know that Buddhist practice well, having learned of it though reading Thick Nhat Hanh. Did a post on it some time ago, and have found it hugely useful, especially when “piling on” is in play. But I’ve found this new iteration I hit on somehow drills very deep immediately, perhaps from the act of writing, and from embracing all the gifts as “mine”. (:
I’m glad to have both tools too.
Thank you SO much.
Sally, I don’t know if you get told this enough, though you should, but you are a miracle in my life. Even when I feel I cannot take another positive thought or am so depressed that I can barely see past my tears, somehow your posts–ranging from fun to thoughtful, from delightful to surprising, from sensitive to forceful, from personal to work–always, and I mean always, seem designed to take me to some place else, usually some place I need to go.
Thank you for this website. Thank you for being you and sharing yourself with others, most of whom you will never know personally but who live alongside you in every way.
yes , a fall into place -place : )