I’m not really big on Thanksgiving.
You heard me.
I’m not proud of it. I always have a lovely time when things are said and done. But, Thanksgiving… sigh.
When I was little, I loved making Pilgrim hats and those headdresses with feathers. I loved thinking about how the Native Americans and the Pilgrims hung out together. I pictured them crafting, hiking, baking, and laughing together despite the language barrier. Back then, no one was talking about colonialism and genocide. That would have been a buzz kill for sure.
As I got older, I just started not getting it. I didn’t love eating turkey. And, by the way, we used to sketch the outlines of our hands and make these happy and colorful turkeys. Then, we would decorate the table featuring the real turkey, which was neither colorful nor happy, and we ate it.
So, we gather around our turkey meat and casseroles. The gathering part is cool. Like I said, I always enjoy being with my loved ones. But it does feel burdensome for the host, which is never me, thankfully.
Then there’s the gratitude list. We rattle off things and people. Of course, I’m grateful for a house, car, and food. We have these things by the hair of our chins. In recent years, I’m extra grateful because maintaining those things has come with a ton of struggle. I’m tremendously grateful for my family, friends, health, pets, and life.
I love lists. Every day, I check off things like podcast production, meditation, learning a language, cleaning the floor, and writing a blog destined to antagonize people. Lists and I have a long-term and quite loving relationship.
However, for some reason, I don’t like to make emotionally charged lists. Ticking things off that are spiritual and emotional isn’t enjoyable for me.
Gratitude I like. Gratitude lists I don’t. Maybe it is that I don’t like redundancy. I’m thankful always for family, friends, pets, life, car, home, etc.,
I acknowledge that gratitude is a powerful tool that helps us to see the good in our lives as opposed to focusing on the negative, the wants, and the needs.
Perhaps I don’t feel like people telling me where and when to be grateful. I also don’t love being told what to do. I don’t like fulfilling others’ expectations. Yukko. Side note: I think I’ll plotz if one more person, on Memorial Day, posts a ‘reminder’ that goes something like… “Hey, while you’re eating your hot dog this Memorial Day, don’t forget we had to kill one another for it.”
Side Note Number Two: I have no idea what plotz means. I’ve seen it used, though, so I believe it’s a thing.
‘Side Note Number Three: Are we still eating hot dogs?
Anyway, this morning I woke up asking: What exactly is gratitude? My inner spirit answered: It’s what you love and how you love, and who you love, and all of the ways in which you love. Gratitude needs legs to carry its tired butt around. And, love is, well, I guess love is the legs – or love is gratitude. Or gratitude is love. Or love is a car and gratitude is its wheels.
You get the point. Or maybe I’ve made gratitude more confusing.
Stephen Covey taught us that Love is a verb, right? Love is digging deep inside and looking at your vulnerabilities, your wounds, your fear, and actively pouring yourself into others, regardless of your inner trepidation. Love is big and scary and powerful and necessary.
So, I’m going to privately, of course, not in public, because my incessant boat rocking is already so annoying, call Thanksgiving – LoveGiving.
In my heart, Thanksgiving is Love Giving. That’s what I’m going to do and how I’m going to view it.
Shhhhh. Don’t tell anyone.