Tag Archives: 2020

Gratitude in 2020

Gratitude? In 2020? This year of disruption and staggering losses? Yes.

The Humber River, Toronto, a view from one of my regular walks that inspires gratitude.

I’m grateful:

1. For Clarity. My vision is 20/20. I know what matters. People. Community. Love. And the earth which supports it all. And I know what doesn’t matter. Whether my hair is cut. Things. Productivity and other cudgels of capitalism. Just as I was wondering if humanity is doomed, I got to witness how we can change our collective priorities quickly.

2. For People. I am grateful for family, thick and thin friends, the kindness of strangers, neighbours, delivery people, doctors, nurses, teachers…everyone. I am grateful for the enthusiasms of my community and the skills and talents they have shared throughout the year.

3. For Slowness. I have a brain injury, and I have required a slower pace since 2016. In the before-time, I fought this need. I thought it was something I had to change. I thought that regaining my old pace was a goal and would be a mark of my recovery. Not anymore. I have learned to embrace my slow pace. It’s a relief. In part, I have been able to do this because everyone else had to slow down too.

4. For Solitude. I miss my people. (See 2.) But. (See 3.) I can do things AND be alone. While others complain about life on Zoom, for me (and many other people with disabilities) Zoom means accessibility. I can participate while not having to negotiate so many other things. I can lower the volume, focus on a single speaker, dim the brightness. Sure, real life is better. But having something is better than nothing, and I am grateful for everything I have been able to participate in because of Zoom. I can only hope that when this is over, the avenues of access that have opened so the able-bodied and neurotypical can carry on will remain open for the rest of us. Will every literary festival make on-line access possible? Will readings still be on line? Will I be able to listen to a concert on line or see a show? I hope so.

5. For Breath. Breath is life. The virus makes breathing a struggle and even takes it away. There has been so much death. I have struggled for breath before. I don’t take it for granted. A quarter century of meditation practice has blossomed in this time. Whatever is happening in me and around me, I am here, breathing. When anxiety or worry threaten to overwhelm, I know that some seed of me, some essence of me, is fine. I am breathing. I am fine. 

6. For Conservation. Or whatever the opposite of consumerism is. I am grateful for getting by with what I have. For making do. For repairing things. It is a better way to live. I will never go back. 

7. For Health. This is more than being grateful I have been spared this terrible virus to date. With life so much smaller, I have tended to my health, my total health, in a more focussed way. I have established a new fitness routine. I walk more. I pay attention to what my body and mind need. I am more focussed on health and wellness than ever before.

8. For Support. Whether you call it cooperation, mutual aid, friendship, or neighbourliness, I have been nourished by it this year.

9. For Gratitude. Yes, I am grateful for gratitude. When I’m feeling overwhelmed, I reach for it. It brings me into the present and changes my perspective.

Like you, I’m hoping 2021 is better. But 2020 taught me important lessons. I don’t want to forget them.

 

Finding Joy Even Though Winter is Coming

Not to be all “Game of Thrones” or anything, but winter really is coming. It is unlikely there will be dragons, but if 2020 has taught us anything, there will be SOMETHING. I’m hoping it won’t be another four years of the orange menace, and certainly not another four years of the pandemic. I’m weary of them both. Weary and wary. Wary of my weariness. Weary of my wariness. I’d like to go through 24 hours without thinking something is out to do us all in.

Do you have a plan to get through the winter? Something you are doing to help you find joy? I do and I’m sharing. Maybe it will give you ideas.

  1. I’m being rigid about my schedule. It’s not a fancy schedule and includes blocks of time for exercise, work, and food prep. Yes, food prep. We’ve got to keep our strength up and eat well. And delicious food is still something that brings me joy, even if I have to make it myself (which also explains the exercise block.) If I keep my activities in specific blocks, I keep some variety in my day. I can’t work all the time anymore like I used to, (brain injury) and that’s a good thing. But I think a lot of people newly working from home are reporting that they work ALL THE TIME. Let yourself stop and move on to something else.
  2. I get up early and go to bed early.
  3. I meditate every day. I’ve been meditating for decades, but never with this much dedication. I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.
  4. I have stopped drinking alcohol. I actually stopped a long time ago, (brain injury), but I think it is worth mentioning. It’s a depressant. I miss it sometimes, but I have more joy without it. Sometimes, I take a sip of my husband’s drink if it is a really nice smelling wine or a good bourbon. Just a sip. Although it was hard while there were still opportunities for social interaction, it’s not hard now. If you’ve been thinking about it, maybe this is a good time to experiment. Maybe it will bring you joy.
  5. I have cleaned my closet, sock drawer, etc., and edited out worn, horrible or ill-fitting clothes. Again, they are a depressant, at least to me. If I can’t wear that thing I used to slob around in on the rare days I slobbed around, I won’t wear it. I have to choose something better, and I feel better.
  6. I go for a walk every day. My longest regular walk is about 8.5 km and my shortest is to the store and back (about 15 minutes). No matter what, I get outside. I think about what I’m seeing. I look for beauty. A bird, the changing leaves, someone in a nice coat. It’s there. Pay attention.
  7. I try to be helpful to others. I check in with people who are alone. I drop baking off with a neighbour. I write cards and send them to people. This is one of my favourites. It involves several enjoyable steps. a) I have to order cards from a stationery store. I love stationery stores, even on line. My favourite is The Regional Assembly of Text in East Vancouver. I have one closer to me that I really like too, called Take Note, in the Junction. Since I don’t physically go to many stores anymore, it doesn’t matter where a store is. But I try to buy from independent retailers. b) I have to go through my address book and think about everyone and who I haven’t been in contact with lately. c) I have to compose something lively and smart. (It’s a goal, anyway.) It makes me feel better and I love thinking of them receiving the card in the mail, opening it and laughing. d) I have to walk to the post box. (see 6.)
  8. I have projects unrelated to work. For example, early in the pandemic, I dug up everything I have related to knitting. I found half finished mittens, a sweater I started in 1996, and more wool than I imagined I had. So I’m knitting. I’m thinking about breaking into crochet. I have an idea of taking a beautiful landscape photograph, using the app “Bricks” to pixelate it, (Bricks makes everything look like it is made out of Lego) and creating a colour blocked pattern so I can crochet one small square at a time and not get overwhelmed. Then I could put it together like a quilt. If that half a sweater I dug up is any indication, I might finish it by 2040. Crazy as it seems, looking ahead on a project like that makes me feel better. There is a future.
  9. I haven’t given up on getting better from my brain injury. While I think I’ve run my course with what professionals can do to help me, they say time heals. And I have time, all the gods and goddesses willing, and I notice small, incremental improvements, especially in my balance (see #1 and exercise). And these improvements bring me joy. Is there something you can work on improving in your life?
  10. I limit my intake of news and social media. It’s too much. But at least weekly, I take positive action on a change I want to see in the world. I write a politician, I sign a petition, I learn more about a problem that seems insurmountable, not from the news but from a longform article or book or documentary, and I find reasons for hope and learn about other actions I can take.

Happy Winter! It’s going to be ok. This does not have to be the winter of our discontent. We’ll get through this.