For This, I’m Thankful

Sarah’s list is much more body/senses oriented than my list:

I am thankful for…creativity…..

curiosity and the ability to reason……

sensitivity to beauty, art, music, dance, poetry, ritual,

appreciation of nature……family……


the ability to read and write…..





the observation that our fear of death lessens as we age……

the fact that we faint when physical pain exceeds our bearable limits,  etc.

Breaking Sarah - Bruised, Not Broken

With Thanksgiving almost upon us, I wanted to be aware of and thankful for the little things in life:

  • my husband, of course, my sons, my best friend and my little doggie
  • waking up on the weekend and just laying in bed for a while with my honey
  • the first smell of rain hitting the ground
  • my morning cup of coffee
  • that first taste of something delicious and sinful
  • sipping that perfect glass of wine
  • fresh air and the warm feeling of the sun on my back
  • nature – trees, flowers, creeks and rivers, oceans, amazing landscapes
  • a crisp sunrise or a warm sunset
  • when I actually see the look of love in someones’ eyes
  • a gentle but strong hug
  • watching animals frolick around
  • getting into a nice warm bed on a cold night
  • decorating for the holidays and enjoying holiday music

I am sure there are more but these came to mind…

View original post 28 more words

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
This entry was posted in A mixed bag and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Please share your own experiences here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.