Thank you for this reminder: “For our body to be healthy, our heart must pump a constant flow of blood. For our relationships to be healthy, we need a constant flow of mindful communication.” (Thich Nhat Hanh)

Thank you for efforts to practice communication and for forgiveness of non-efforts. 

Thank you for weekly phone meetings with GK to discuss the new house. Thank you for his patience.

Thank you for check-ins with RP. She also has a Woolsey lot and is planning a home with a small footprint. It’s comforting to go through the process with her. Thank you for how her lifelong learning teaches and inspires.

Thank you for regular texts from AH even though I don’t feel worthy. I admire that she stays real and loving all at once—she would only tell me what I want to hear if it’s true to her.

Thank you for a hand-written card in the mail from JL. Thank you for the example of how to be a supportive friend. Thank you for the care she gives uplifting those around her. Thank you for the inspiration of her and Z’s love story. Thank you for her integrity and independence. Thank you for her relationships with her little guys.

Thank you for trustworthy friends I feel safe near and happy to be influenced by. Hopefully they feel ok with me, too. (I could do better.)

Thank you for strong, tactful, dignified women in real life and the media who serve as my role models. 

Thank you for the next fermentation adventure: sauerkraut! 

Thank you for a free mirror to face a longtime phobia. Thank you for the happiness that comes with movement.

Thank you for self forgiveness and other forgiveness. 

Thank you for a web of features incompatible with shame (e.g., vulnerability, respectful communication, self esteem…). As I build the incompatible features, my shame naturally diminishes.

Thank you for the dexterity of hands. I wonder how human hands seem from a dog’s perspective. Maybe like huge wiggly alien appendages.

Thank you for Peaches watching me on the yoga mat.

Thank you for the cuteness in her movements.

Thank you for the watery self-talk of Marcus Aurelius: ”Dig inside yourself. Inside you, there’s a wellspring of goodness, which is capable of gushing all the time, as long as you keep digging.” (Meditations, 7.59)

Another of his aqueous metaphors is similar to Thich Nhat Hanh talking about salt in a river. Here is the emperor’s version: “Suppose someone standing by a clear, sweet spring were to curse it: it just keeps right on bringing drinkable water bubbling up to the surface.” He continues, “Even if he throws mud or dung in it, before long the spring disperses the dirt and washes it out, leaving no stain.” (8.51)

Following that metaphor is advice to himself on how to be a clear spring. “Preserve your self-reliance at every hour, and your kindness, simplicity, and morality.” (Thay’s similar advice is to cultivate equanimity or upeskha.)

Thank you for gentle persistence when my heart feels more like a sippy cup than a river or spring.

Thank you for impatience corrected with faith. We don’t always heal on our timelines. There may be lessons in the healing that we’re still figuring out. So we do well to stay with the process. 

Thank you for kindness to ourselves and others despite injuries. If one who loves me has done something to hurt me, the pain emanating from her to me may have been only a small fraction of what burned inside her. A loving thing I can do for her is to recover from my injuries.

Let’s go a step farther and say that anyone at all who has committed aggressions against us, even if they don’t know us, must be suffering. Their suffering is reason not to dissolve the boundaries that protect us but to relinquish our bitterness in favor of understanding.

Thank you for when words on a page become practices in real life. It’s a lot easier to say something kind than it is to mean it, to stand behind the talk. But sometimes loving and honest words—written, spoken, thought—are a good first step. May they guide diligent efforts to live in accord with our hearts.

Thank you for the role of imagination in empathy and compassion. Imagining another’s situation from his or her perspective while keeping in mind the limits of my vision increases understanding, which is integral to love. 

Thank you for crisp chilled apple slices to cap off dinner.

Thank you for a snaggletooth (Peaches’) that still mesmerizes.

Thank you for the Faces Places documentary with Agnes Varda and JR. Loving artists humbly embracing their weirdness make me happy.

Thank you for interesting quotes from Rich Roll Podcasts: “Every itch not scratched is a lesson in compassion” (That’s Brad Stulberg citing an unnamed source). I think some unscratched itches end up a futile practice in avoidance or “self discipline” but still appreciate his perspective—it’s about letting those itches be, in a loving way. 

Matt Long shared on a different episode, “You don’t achieve true success by yourself, whether that’s happiness or financial success. . . .  I’d be wary of the person who says, ‘I did this by myself. I’m self made.’” 

Thank you again for Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. It’s just candid journal entries. How heartening to glimpse the inner world of a historical figure who dedicated his life to self betterment. I may not agree with every specific but respect his efforts.

Thank you for similarities between Buddhist teachings and some of the beliefs expressed by Marcus Aurelius (many of them Stoic). One example—I’m not sure it resonates with Stoicism—is that your mind will come to resemble your frequently repeated thoughts: your mind takes on the hue of your thoughts. He concludes that you should “dye your mind” with ideas. To me it’s similar to the Buddhist notion of mindful or right consumption and the premise that we consume even our own thoughts.

Thank you for efforts to seek nourishing environments, words, sounds, sights, attitudes, and to navigate around their contraries. It became clear early on how absorbent my shell is. Thus care was required in exposing it to the right influences.

Thank you for daily journal entries that help me process life in a healthier way.

Thank you for perspective on the challenges of my childhood and adolescence. It used to seem like a barrier to have struggled young. My youth’s turmoil felt shatter-your-being-and-life-view rough. It grazed death and embraced darkness. It heaved with losses. What I thought of as good unraveled into bad and morphed into me. 

Of course coming out the other side didn’t guarantee ease. And healing can take a lifetime, so I never really made it to that other side, in some sense. The thing I can say is that I may be better equipped to handle difficulties after painstakingly sifting through the shards of my shattered youth. I’m lucky to have felt broken early and grateful to keep lessons dear. 

We’re probably all at least a little fractured. Some of us haven’t yet had our pieces scattered helter-skelter. Our cracks, hidden, may allow us to move “normally”—blindly—through our entire lives. Why? Because we have the luxury to deny what’s merely hidden, and ignoring problems is a human thing to do. That’s why I’m grateful my cracks tore asunder. I had to face them. They left me no choice.

Thank you for a new lesson: I am not a martyr. When I think I’m sacrificing my wellbeing to help someone, that is a red flag. I may actually be using “help” as an excuse to escape my own suffering in the short term by acting in a way that disrespects myself long term. In other words, my decision to “martyr” myself for another may stem from selfish attachment (or from aversion to discomfort). Sometimes the healthiest way to help is, in some respects, not self sacrifice but sacrifice of attachments and aversions. 

Another lesson: If I accept someone being less than respectful to me, then I am not doing him any good, either. If he condones me subjecting myself to unhealthy circumstances to please or be with him, that is not right thinking. What is good for me also will be good for my loved ones. What is good for them will not be hurtful or disrespectful to me.  

Thank you for saved voicemails from my dad and a snippet of him singing. 

Thank you for saved voice memos. A surreal dream told half asleep at 3 AM stands out. Have you ever recorded yourself in a stupor, solemnly recounting wacky narratives from your unconscious? It can be an entertaining listen down the road.

Thank you for Sister True Dedication sharing on the Ten Percent Happier podcast what Thich Nhat Hanh would advise. As I remember, it’s ok to be angry for a little while, but after a certain period (a day?) we must address our anger so it doesn’t, I don’t know, fester inside or eat us up or whatever. 

Thank you for simple recognition of anger without further action. With faith in the practice of acknowledging and letting anger be felt—with acceptance of bitter parts—transformation is possible.

Thank you for this passage from Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations: If someone can prove me wrong and show me that something I thought or did was mistaken, I’ll gladly change, because my goal is the truth and the truth has never harmed anyone. (6.21) 

Thank you for unshakeable faith in truth.

And thank you for a happy effect since re-reading Meditations—i.e., the (fleeting) thought that maybe life is good and I don’t need to fret. What if there is providence in the universe or some sort of divine reason overseeing everything? Then it’s up to me to trust that Reason and live in alignment with it, which is doable. I can let go of worry. What’s handed to me in life doesn’t matter. I only see a small portion of the overall story, anyway: our entire modern civilization is only a fragment. 

By trusting nature’s goodness I have more ease. The bigger story (the one I can’t fathom) is purposeful. Situations that befall me throughout life lose relevance. Even the seemingly awesome happenings aren’t as important. What I do with what’s handed to me is the only thing that truly gives value. I increase that value by living so that my reason and the actions that result from it align with a higher Reason or nature. Matching up my little reason with big Reason harmonizes my life with the providence of the universe, and fulfillment results. (For the Stoics, I think the little reason entailed practicing wisdom, moderation, courage, and justice—their four cardinal virtues.)

Thank you for diverse philosophies on living a good life. What beliefs inform how you live and nourish your well being? How do your values sync up with the ins and outs of your daily life, the big stuff and the little details, in each moment over time?

Thank you for encouragement to one’s self. It helps to have yourself as your cheerleader and support system.

Thank you for relationships we cultivate with ourselves that transform self hatred. Stubborn efforts and forgiveness help.

Thank you for our responses to life’s blows mitigating their impact and in some cases transforming it.

Thank you for the connection between self loathing and arrogance, because it means I can address both together. They’re jointly tied to either-or, individualistic thinking. When the stark individual extremes melt into a collective gray, I realize, one, that I’m no better than people who do wrong. (My arrogance subsides.) And two, that I’m no worse than people who do right. (My self-loathing subsides.) I do good, and I cause hurt. I falter and succeed. That’s human.

Exploring connections shows we are universally tied to circumstances, histories, nature, habits. If I look deeply, I discern my regrets in your seemingly unrelated wrongdoings. And I perceive my triumphs when I view your success. Further, “success” or “failure” is never the whole story. They’re a package deal, too. Often a regret informs an achievement. Or what seems a success instead causes suffering. 

Mistakes and suffering give (shared) lessons on the path to well being. None of us walk that path alone. No one stumbles without obstacles, even if they’re within or invisible. Likewise, no one rises without help. So remorse needn’t devolve to shame and self loathing; victory or virtue needn’t overshoot to pride and arrogance. Practice looking brings equanimity. (It’s just a thought. My head is starting to hurt so maybe these ramblings are a little kooky.)

Thank you for my dad’s support years after he left us.

Thank you for ideas while meditating.

Thank you for Peaches’ surgery and recovery going well, and for the professionals who gave her care.

Thank you for huge, nourishing breakfasts.

Thank you for a sunny day.

Thank you for a fridge filled with whole foods.

Thank you for clear skin.

Thank you for clean water abundantly available.

Thank you for early morning routines.

Thank you for how good it feels to meditate.

Thank you for houseplants adding joy and calm when we rest our gaze on them.

Thank you for large windows to let in bright sunlight.

Thank you for determination to love.

Thank you for rest.

Thank you for, “The energy of stopping is very powerful” (Thich Nhat Hanh). I’d add that awareness (of breath, thoughts, feelings, sensations, etc.) makes stopping not simply ceasing one thing but also taking up another.

Thank you for the smell of coffee.

Thank you for memories of Paris.

Thank you for it’s never too late. The past two years (mostly in CA) have seen me establish more—and more genuine—social ties than ever before. This happened without pushing or purpose. It’s a stark contrast to the days (esp. in grad school) when social anxiety consumed me. Eye contact with male peers sparked embarrassment. I could barely speak in class or at work. Social gatherings terrified me. And I constantly pressured myself to be less shy. 

Again, focusing not on the problem but on self-care practices and nourishing environments (plus having luck) helped. My MO shifted from avoidance to approach. I became more accepting of me, which gave ease around others; the receding need to quell turmoil left space for curiosity toward lives and experiences. Social anxiety therapy did not accomplish that. Nor did pressuring myself to change. Seeking general wellness through a variety of specific practices helped.

Thank you for when we have the peace of mind to walk tall.

Thank you for unfulfilled dreams. Life looks nothing like I thought it should. I’ve received countless enormous gifts that weren’t asked for, but a lot of what I used to want, what society and ego told me were important, I never received. With those disappointments came a nudge toward gratitude for what I did have and a call to accept more responsibility for my happiness—I’m glimpsing a truer meaning of it.

Thank you for the plain talk of Dr. Robynne Chutkan on the Rich Roll Podcast, particularly about the link between medications and the state of our gut microbiome.

Thank you for fermented foods and diverse plant foods, for how their consumption increases our physical and mental wellness.

Thank you for when we appreciate the times we’re not going under. To be afloat in rough waters is a feat.

Thank you for the saying, “This is a happy moment,” that Sister True Dedication shared on the Ten Percent Happier podcast. 

Thank you for happy little moments to pin with that phrase: morning cuddles with Peach, watching her sniff leaves, tucking into a perfect sweet potato, feeling the breeze on my face, running up the arroyo, seeing sunshine reflected off wings, listening to cheerful music, being enveloped in soft sheets…

Thank you if the above saying helps give a name to your happy moments, so you appreciate them better throughout the day. I hope those moments grow.

Thank you for writing as a way to process feelings.

Thank you for humidifiers.

Thank you for government leaders who have cultivated well being in their lives so they recognize how to achieve it on a larger scale.

Thank you for dog frenemies Coco and Peaches in matching sweaters.

Thank you for friends and neighbors who supported me through the last move: K & M for dropping off homemade crackers, kraut, and chickpea salad along with greens from their garden (yum!) while they picked up Cinquecento and house plants to foster. DB for taking me to the rental car pickup all the way in Camarillo. SHM for initially offering to let me stay in his airstream. RP for offering to let me stay in her rental unit. BW for offering to help pack and loan her van. AM & JM for coming out early to spend the weekend prepping the house for the move. EC for showing up on a Sunday to disconnect the electricity. The LA County Public Works team who guided the tiny house through the road closure and gave us cold waters. BT for providing a clean room with fresh bedding at our destination. TNT for encouragement and advice that eased anxiety….

Thank you for those who carry us through life.

Thank you for B driving up the hill in her van full of boxers while I walked up it with Peaches on my back in the evenings. Our exchanges always made me happy.

Thank you again for the uplift from seeing friends around town. Thank you for waves, smiles, and hellos.

Thank you for GB appreciating he can walk up Mulholland every morning at 78 years old. It inspires me, too.

Thank you for a fermentation adventure: kimchi!

Thank you again for every new read of The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching. It’s where I turn for insight to transform suffering. This latest go around, the lists seemed easier to grasp—Four Noble Truths, Noble Eightfold Path, Seven Factors of Awakening, Four Immeasurable Minds… So much overlap but they sort of made more sense. Anyhow, to focus on the interbeing nature of everything will guide me to act with greater kindness. That’s next.

Thank you for when we are true to ourselves. It takes consistent practice in lots of small ways to honor feelings and voice dreams.

Thank you for the determination to finally cut the cord on that app. I’m grateful for the freedom. When the urge hits, I think of these: (1) my dad’s concern for my well being, (2) my friend KB’s advice and encouragement to practice yoga (3) the desire not to feed attachments but to practice love.

Thank you for the entry, “Medicine,” alerting me of attempts that were to transpire. Awareness, understanding, kindness, and truth offer what’s vainly sought in potions and spells (love, transformation).

Thank you for problems in the open. They may seem worse when they surface from underground, when it becomes clear just how unsightly they are. But letting them into the light promotes recovery.

Thank you for the difference between enabling and empowering.

Thank you for thoughts on solo bike rides.

Thank you for healthy trees in the forest. Not all of the trees are well. Nonetheless I find enjoyment in life without escaping it too terribly much.

Thank you for a heart open to welcome happiness and love from unexpected places.

Thank you for little practices almost every day to support growth. (I wonder if in some cases they also increase what seems like luck.) Anyway, it’s not linear, and potholes crowd the path. Still I’m stronger and happier overall than when I was younger.

If you’re discouraged about life, if you feel down, please take it from me that it can get better—and challenging external circumstances needn’t vanish first. Keep up the seemingly insignificant daily habits you know are right. Keep practicing, almost every day, what’s good for you, and those efforts will grow along with your wellness.

Thank you for what I learned from the Rich Roll Podcast on hypnosis (“Tranceformation”) with David Spiegel. The story about the woman who fought off an attacker resonated with me because as a teenager I did the exact opposite. I can see how our different circumstances (hers and mine) warranted our choices. As with that woman who fought, it also took a special instance to understand and accept my actions as self preserving. (It took serious introspection.)

Thank you for drawing out the lens to imagine our world’s happenings and inhabitants over time. Life is immense. Stuff that seems to matter may not really matter so much. Our “big deals” (like possessions, status, rites of passage, personal dramas, attachments, and aversions) may be inconsequential in some sense. And some “inconsequential” stuff—like whispers of intuition and selflessness of acts—may be super important.

Thank you for the power of fasting to provide clarity. It can offer a healthy-ish, extreme altered reality. It’s like if you’re a lightbulb, and going without food somehow scrubs your glass clean from the inside (like my friend SHM said). It also strengthens the light’s force. My approach is to keep meditating on the question I seek help with or the purpose of the fast. I try to ask before sleep, before drinks, etc. I tell myself that the answer is in me and request it to come forward. An insight often pops up like magic toward the end, at day three or four. Other weird things may happen, too. (And I have done it while active and working—I just took care not to stand up too fast, and to drink plenty.) My favorite juices are grapefruit, cherry, and tangerine diluted with loads of sparkling water. Coconut water gives electrolytes, and warm broth with lemon juice satisfies at night.

Thank you for the ease of kicking unwanted habits when I (ironically) gave less attention to those habits and instead focused on overall wellness. Giving up anything can be difficult. It’s extra hard when we have trained a cynical mindset where it’s easier to tear down than to build up. The cynic may be able to quit in the short term—but what moves into the space she’s cleared? That’s her dilemma with wellness. A positive must travel into that negative space for healing to occur.

Cynic or not, adding healthy practices beats removing unhealthy ones. Fundamentals may trump the more superficial specifics, too. What I mean is that simply practicing what is fundamentally good because it’s good—not necessarily because it’s an antidote to a certain ill—naturally diminishes pesky habits that have sprouted from deeper issues. (Increased wellness on a broad spectrum shifts our thinking and being, and that shift crowds out suffering along with its manifestations.)

Thank you again for mindfulness. I see it as to remember. It is to to be aware, not in a small or judgmental way, with biases and conclusions—so it doesn’t count to remember how you effed up that one time. Mindfulness is to be aware in a big fat open Texas sky way: silent and infinite.

Thank you for if reading this brought value or helped you feel less lonely. Thank you for caring. Lately wellness consumes my thoughts, that’s why the entries have been so laden with it; I’m healing. I wish you healing, too.

Thank you for friendships through thick and thin.

Thank you for when ladybugs land on us and we feel lucky.

Thank you for drivers who give pedestrians the right of way.

Thank you for the Spiegel eye roll test and the Reveri app (may try it).

Thank you for friendly faces on and off Mulholland.

Thank you for resilience. A bushel of traumatic experiences spread across life give practice dealing with tough stuff. One may learn to bounce back quicker.

Thank you for real life applications of notions learned in philosophy. Think about false dilemmas applied to dating. Sometimes we narrow our options to two or so choices of partner, maybe comparing one against the other. Focusing on those limited options could leave us settling when more, and even better suited, possibilities are there if we seek.

Thank you for the practice of “selective watering.” That’s when we recognize and refrain from watering the negative seeds (like anger, bitterness, etc.) in us and those we love, and instead recognize and water our own and loved ones’ positive seeds (like compassion).

While we’re on that topic, thank you for TNH’s quote on joy: “It is possible to develop joy in your mind, even when your body is not well. This will, in turn, help your body. Joy comes from touching things that are refreshing and beautiful, within and outside of ourselves. Usually we touch only what’s wrong. If we can expand our vision and also see what is right, this wider picture always brings joy.”

Thank you for positive seeds watered. From the surface you may see only wet dirt at first, IDK. At some point a little shoot could sprout up. With time and care it absolutely will grow. 

Thank you for “Love is the water that springs from the source of understanding.” - TNH

Thank you for when RB has been honest and upfront, respectful toward women, free from dependence, courageous and self-valuing, and filled with integrity. I know you are suffering and sort of understood that you may have a difficult time resisting those invitations—that you are returning to the place you left, even after threats and insults from it to both you and me, and after your assurance otherwise to me. It doesn’t seem healthy. It hurt me profoundly. But that’s your choice.

I felt silenced by your words (or by my respect for them) during our last conversation and was hoping you soon would be ready to reach out, to break that silence. I was also praying you would be in a space where you could weather inevitable waves of darkness rather than reuniting with one of their very sources as a means of escape. (Maybe if we had been in touch, or if negative attention seeking had not been watered by your equally charged replies, then your own negativity would have diminished and you wouldn’t have succumbed to the darkness that feeds dependence. Sorry that respecting your freedom left me little say in the matter.)

This past month I sensed we came closer than ever before. You made a free choice (without propositions, threats, vitriol, pleas…) to express (genuine?) feelings as a way to rectify an unfortunate situation. It meant the world to me. To be honest, though, who am I to say what’s been going on. I’ve also felt a barrier to respectful communication, openness and truth—I fear DM3 has become a toxic support for this.

So from here I’ll move forward. It appears the only option to respect myself. The nice thing is, I actually want to be treated well. I want to treat myself well. I’m sort of put off by being mistreated. I’m going to keep watering those seeds of self respect because they do grow within and beyond me. The future excites me, and with trusted friends, I’ll never feel alone.

Please respect yourself also. Practice integrity. Recognize the fetters of dependence and how manipulation latches onto them. Think about what you want your future to look like independently of what I or anyone else may want of you. You don’t owe us anything, and we who care for you will not make demands. Think in practical terms of how the path you’re on links up with the future you envision—e.g., possessions and spending habits, work (to maintain stuff—it can leave us enslaved), family, travel, creativity, enrichment, service, community, etc. Remember that contrary to how it may feel, you’re actually still young and very capable to choose an altogether new path that fulfills you (even one with an altogether new social landscape) despite how stuck life may seem. Remember that bitterness, negativity, and anger keep us controlled. They entangle us in the idea that we are stuck—we are without or powerless—while gratitude and positivity open possibilities. They focus us on what we have and what we can do, and from there we grow. The limits set in our minds may be the most prohibitive. So open your mind. See opportunity. And you will open your life circumstances.

I hope you find true happiness, freedom, and love. I imagine it may take a lot of work for you to reclaim the genuine, caring, strong, independent, insightful you, but so many resources are available when you seek them. And infinite answers lie right in your heart. Healing and transformation are real.

You have a friend in me always. I am here for you. Yes, I feel angry. I feel deceived. But I also take responsibility for being more involved than the situation merited. I’m sorry. You are in my prayers.

Thank you for love.

Thank you freedom and diligence to practice love.

Thank you for friends who nourish us by letting us know we’re seen and valued, so we feel that we aren’t alone.

Thank you for real talks with neighbor G. Thank you for her book loan.

Thank you for activists and everyday folks making efforts as stewards of the environment wherever they go.

Thank you for language learning apps.

Thank you for an architect/contractor and a timeline taking shape. He advised me to plan one or two visits home to oversee progress. I don’t know yet how it will happen.

Thank you for Peaches’ fluffy eyebrows and for fluffy eyebrows in general.

Thank you for the wonder around and in us. That really is just what I love about philosophy. It fills us with wonder. 

Thank you for Nat King Cole and Barry Manilow tunes drifting from the bedroom next door after dark.

Thank you for crunchy foods.

Thank you for a place to practice and record positive thoughts that may come in handy later.

Thank you for foundations on which to build trust: understanding, respect, freedom, patience, communication, tenacity…

Thank you for courage to try and to let go.

Thank you for beautifully imperfect humans (like you and me).

Thank you for an insight on a contributor to happiness: Community. It’s easy to get along in many places with few ongoing, meaningful connections to a social network and instead to interact via disconnected and/or professional transactions. I’ve never been much of a joiner and rarely felt at home in a group. So cheerleading for community is new to me. But the last couple years have shown its value. It opens channels to exchange aid. It increases our sense of safety. The trusted interactions it nurtures lighten our moods, widen our learning, and sharpen our communications. Acceptance by a group, despite one’s perceived flaws, also boosts self esteem. We’re held accountable to treat each other well. A compassionate community can promote happiness.

Maybe I already said this, too, but thank you for the role of perceptions in experience of everyday life. For example, the perception, “I have to do X” is different from “I get to do X.” Switching to the latter is not appropriate in every situation. I have found it adds enthusiasm to duties like housework. One way to shift the perception, following the housework example, is to think about how special it is to live in a comfy, clean shelter. Then, rather than a chore, care for that gift becomes a privilege. My hope is that habitually cultivating enthusiasm for everyday duties will also generalize to heavier callings.

Thank you for 1 Corinthians 13:1-13

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. 2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.

4 Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; 5 does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; 6 does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; 7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

8 Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.

11 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

13 And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Thank you for your wellness. Put faith in the practices that have kept you well in the past, and be diligent about them. Believe in the power of rest to heal you. Believe in the goodness at your core. If you feel better when you talk to a certain loved one, then reach out to him or her. Know you are loved!

Thank you for multiple journals that serve varied purposes.

Thank you for The Artist’s Way. The morning pages idea helped me. That book explores what so many of us struggle with: being creatively stifled. All of us can benefit by nourishing the source of our creativity or feeding our inner spark. Nourishing creative inputs (like listening to music) and outputs (like taking photos) both are essential. Maybe even to live well is a creative pursuit.

Thank you for the patience of family, Peaches included, during an adjustment when I’m not the easiest to be around. Let’s hope it’s getting better.

Thank you for awareness that the current living situation prepares me for the next one.

Thank you for the radiant lady with the stubbly head who offered to throw away P’s poop bag for us.

Thank you for the cozy feel from patio lights (even if they’re disruptive in some respects).

Thank you for baseball caps having buttons at the top.

Thank you for the velvet hum of stillness.

Thank you for rain postponing outdoor exercise. The break was nice.

Thank you for a long, slow Sunday ride after a week off.

Thank you for the light of mindfulness. Shining it onto less-than-healthy habits and fears transforms them over time.

Thank you for the practice of awareness without judgment.

Thank you for warm neighbors back home. Thank you for their eye contact. Thank you for their smiles. Thank you for our talks. 

Thank you for friendly memories of Joyce walking Hans early mornings.

Thank you for BT practicing mindful meditation to lower her blood pressure. 

Thank you for RB.

Thank you for when I know that I don’t know what’s going on, rather than assuming I know what is the case based on my own wishful or selfish thinking.

Thank you for efforts to be respectful of others’ situations.

Thank you for acceptance and friendship here for the taking, and space here for the giving.

Thank you for a fast that went ok. I still don’t know what to do (or not to do), so how it helped is uncertain. Just because I can’t see the effects yet doesn’t mean they’re negligible. I’ll keep trying.

Thank you for the Four Immeasurable Minds: love, compassion, joy, and equanimity. Thich Nhat Hanh said they’re called immeasurable because “if you practice them, they will grow in you every day until they embrace the whole world. You will become happier, and everyone around you will become happier, also.” 

Thank you for when our lives touch each others’ in positive ways.

Thank you for awareness today that I don’t feel good enough or worthy of love—like I have to be a more exciting or interesting person. That awareness prompted a reminder that I’m the only me out there, which may be special. (Sometimes we are so used to our selves that we take them for granted.)

Thank you for the result of a long search to find home. The deal is pretty much sealed. Now it’s a matter of building and then one more move. It seems a healthy choice.

Thank you for almost a year and a half of heaven and hell in the tiny house. The hell part involved the insecurity of a temporary permit to live on land that ended up being sold, etc. The heaven part was a bunch of stuff. Freedom, calm, quiet, community, clean, simplicity…

Thank you for the new tiny owners and our adventure making the handoff work. Thank you for A’s mission to change the world. I know she’ll do it. Thank you for her calm sensibility carrying us through rough patches. Thank you for J’s skills, too. The two of them complemented each other and made moving the house a success. I hope they create a ton of happy memories there.

Thank you for dreams.

Thank you for difficult choices freely made and the respect those choices earn.

Thank you for conviction that a good thing will work.

Thank you for the grace of forgiveness.

Thank you for the strength of love.

Thank you for all we do to make miracles happen.

Thank you for peaceful nights and healthy tomorrows.

Thank you for a heart filled with love. I’m not immune to anger and bitterness. Hopefully, though, love will outshine the dark bits.

Thank you for thunderclaps and raindrops outside the window while Peaches and I are cozy in bed.

Thank you for the practical stuff that waters seeds of love by sustaining health and lifting moods. Fruit smoothies make me more loving. Regular poops do it, too (sorry), along with rainbow salads, gung-ho bike rides, doggy cuddles, restful nights, caring friends, understanding family, peaceful communities… Reading about the Buddhist notion of emptiness, it could even make sense to say that my love is empty. It’s composed of non-love elements: personal health, supportive people, secure environments. Challenges make it up too. Everything’s in there!

Thank you for Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius. He’s a new celebrity crush. I hear he did some terrible things, but none of us are (is?) perfect. He was also introspective. He journaled. He held values and tried diligently to live by them. I’m inspired by his efforts and writings. 

Thank you for the opportunity to read over past gratitudes. It gave perspective on the last couple years. Earlier entries seemed more interesting and colorful. Was it my imagination? Or could it be that my life has grown more stressful and less well-rounded since then? I wonder if I set aside outside interests that made me more interesting. One of those is reading diverse books—not just wellness but poetry, fiction, biographies—books so exciting I can’t wait to share them. Another is watching eye-opening films. A third is spending time with diverse people, although I’ve been fortunate to enjoy warm and trusting friendships recently. So I can’t say for sure about the third one. Or could it be that it’s not my life that became less interesting but only the gratitude entries that did so? I do think it’s time to try something new instead of gratitude entries. A revamp is in order. It could take awhile. We’ll see.

Thank you for more ideas to regain the spark in real life, too. I’d like to try another meditation class through UCLA MARC. The last one I went to was on relational mindfulness with Deborah Eden Tull. She is wonderful. Notes from it still help me. I’d also like to explore NM. Kitchen adventures sound fun. Giving back by donating blood or time can add spark if chosen right. Plant adventures may fill the tank, too, but that might have to wait until back at Seminole. Anywho, If my life is richer, others will gain excitement by being in my presence.

Thank you, again, for what makes me feel alive, like reading certain books and traveling different places. Other alive-makers: movement, hardships or challenges to push beyond comforts, interpersonal connections, rest, healthy food…

Thank you for ironic ways of loving. To be vibrant for another may require not focusing too much on that person. Being a better partner for another may require living a fuller life for one’s self. Another ironic way of loving is to let go. Sometimes that’s the respectful choice (esp. if it seems requested of one) even if it’s not what I would choose or want to do otherwise.

Thank you for days lasting longer in NM. I don’t understand how it works. More fits into NM days than did in CA days.

Thank you for those who appreciate and cultivate kindness in others. My dad, for instance, used to call me “Sweet Shan.” (Sorry that’s extra corny.) I didn’t think much of it at the time because it’s just what he did. Looking back, I see how refreshing it is to be singled out as nice or sweet and appreciated as such, particularly by someone very close.

Thank you for the fun of typing on a keyboard. Clicky sounds are a bonus.

Thank you for another fast to seek peace, healing, clarity, and guidance. Today is day one. My insides still feel turmoil. I’m confident that by continuing to seek, what I’m looking for will come to light. Wishing you peace, healing, clarity, and guidance, too.

Thank you for Monday morning’s rainbow. 

Thank you for spectacular views from the front door.

Thank you for opportunities to heal when surrounded by nature. Just like wild things grow in nature, even after being damaged, sometimes when it seems hopeless, we, too, grow in nature. Our hurts can heal. (So what if it sounded cheesy.)

Thank you for tarantula sightings on the road and driveway. (Let’s hope they don’t make it inside the house.)

Thank you for genuine connections with friendly folks who live nearby.

Thank you for the awareness of how fortunate I am lately, especially to be surrounded by kind, caring people.

Thank you for help given and received.

Thank you for the rewards of giving a person a thing that she or he appreciates.

Thank you for the willingness to post again despite considerable embarrassment.

Thank you for some social lessons:

(1) That no one is ever perfect makes life exciting because it means there’s always room for us to learn. 

(2) Every human being has something about them to love.

(3) It helps me to believe we humans are good at our core. The goodness of humanity means that any emotion or feeling, etc., with a negative value judgment toward the person, like jealousy or greed or selfishness or lust, isn’t the whole story. For example, assuming we are “good” helps me to see those negative-value emotions as composites. The composites break further into primary feelings that, although perhaps negative, don’t hold the same value judgement. Fear and insecurity, for example. To be afraid or insecure is not positive but is less controversial. It’s less judgmental. Having such feelings doesn’t brand you as worthy of censure, only as being hurt. You still deserve compassion. (Sorry for repeating from earlier.)

(4) (There is extra rambling and maybe kookiness and over reaching here.) Seeking forgiveness may at times be more challenging for the one who seeks than the one who forgives. In other words, sometimes the hardest part of forgiveness is simply to forgive ourselves and feel deserving of love. The burden of our remorse can be so heavy that it’s matched only by the challenge of owning up to perceived wrongs. Here is where we often become stuck: feeling just as awful for what we’ve done as we do about admitting to it.

Yet owning up—coming clean and seeking forgiveness—may be key to lessen the burden. It’s true even when the so-called “offended” party doesn’t need an apology or explanation. The one who feels guilt and shame often feels the need to confess. So three issues become intertwined like a knot. We hate on ourselves for what we’ve done, we fear letting others know, yet we feel compelled to come clean.

What fuses the fear behind not speaking up with the compulsion to speak up? It may be insecurity about worthiness. On one hand, we don’t know how others will respond when they see our shame-ridden flaws. On the other, unless we know their response, we can’t be sure they love us for who we are—flaws, regrets, and all. We fear what we have to find out.

Worse-case scenario: Our fessing up permanently damages a relationship. We receive the hatred we dreaded. We are forced to learn that, just as we made a mistake due to lack of understanding or to fear, others make mistakes in how they respond to our own slip ups. We learn through their lack of compassion that they face challenges too, and we grow to show them (and ourselves) the forgiveness that they (and we) deserve.

Better-case scenario: Coming clean leads to receiving the external message that we are worthy of love regardless of mistakes. Voicing regrets, in a safe environment, has a ton of other potential advantages, too. Talking about what happened prompts all parties involved to exchange unspoken thoughts and feelings. “Transgressions” are thus placed in context so we better understand why they occurred, how we are all responsible, how our words and actions impact others, and how to move forward.

It helps if this is done carefully with intention and compassion, of course. There must be a respectful space to express as well as to listen. Sensitivity from all sides is essential. I’d say the rewards of careful communication around forgiveness may turn the curse of regrets into the blessings of love.

Thank you for learning. To have new insights makes me happy.

Thank you for when I follow advice to take it easy.

Thank you for a successful day.

Thank you for medical procedures that improve health.

Thank you for people in healthcare who act with compassion.

Thank you for supportive communities.

Thank you for a trim making Peaches extra soft and cuddly.

Thank you for naps. Thank you for others who appreciate naps. (Call us lazy if you’d like.)

Thank you for self knowledge.

Thank you for vegan cinnamon rolls. I know good ones are out there.

Thank you for evolution, or maybe development? Whatever it is takes time. You learn so much along the way. Maybe that incidental learning helps drive the growth rather than being a mere byproduct. I mean, the little lessons we think are not very impactful could be unsung powerhouses. They may shape our trajectories without us realizing it.

Thank you for pep talks to myself. 

Thank you for how it’s ok to say and do dumb things because there is no such thing as a dumb thing. If I say or do a dumb thing and vow never to do it again, then it stunts my opportunities for growth. If I explore why I did or said it and how I could improve for next time, then it expands me.

Thank you for signlessness.

Thank you for drives along PCH.

Thank you for crickets in the house. Thank you for bowls and cardboard to remove crickets from the house.

Thank you for realization of new options.

Thank you for more repeats with each entry.

Thank you for everyone else being a source of inspiration in some way or another. Sometimes the inspiration seems hidden, but it is there.

Thank you for what’s app and FaceTime audio for phone chats with family and friends.

Thank you for helpers and helpees.

Thank you for how much I’ve learned through less than stable living situations, and for how much more there is to learn as the challenge continues. Thank you for a home base someday. Thank you for the time that will be freed up for more productive pursuits.

Thank you for faith that it will all work out. Faith or hope or whatever is bolstered by trying to do right.

Thank you for all of our healing and wellness.

Thank you for powerful visions.

Thank you for love.

Thank you for sisters and sisterly friends.

Thank you for helpfulness.

Thank you for peace.

Thank you for the breeze through the living room windows.

Thank you for doggos and doggles.

Thank you for Peaches’ first bike ride.

Thank you for animal healthcare.

Thank you for productive days.

Thank you for core values, not just for companies but for people and relationships.

Thank you for forgiveness and love.

Thank you for the optimism to be pessimistic—to say less than positive things with faith that it’ll be ok, regardless.

Thank you for a list to look back on as a reminder of how to care for myself. Most of it seems obvious—but if were obvious, you’d think it would have consistent implementation:

• Sleep well.

• Eat fruits, veggies, whole grains, and legumes, in close to their whole state—make sure to consume hefty amounts of leafy greens and berries.

• Stay hydrated.

• Meditate daily and practice mindfulness throughout the day.

• Try to soak up nature and sunshine regularly.

• Move the body and push it regularly.

• Seek challenges to stimulate the mind.

• Explore, articulate, and accept feelings, painful and pleasant.

• Push out of comfort zones.

• Give back and forward.

• Consciously move away from less healthy habits (that may have short-term rewards but are less sustainable over time) and toward habits with long-term benefits. Let the healthy ones naturally crowd out the less healthy ones.

• Enjoy the company of trusted friends. (It’s been lonely when trusted friends were hard to find. But healthier practices attracted them.)

Thank you for conscious, persistent efforts to choose better. Do I take the pain killer or feel the pain? Daily mental effort involves pausing to consider how I’ll feel the following hours or day or days afterward, or how I’ll feel overall if the thing I’m doing just this once becomes a habit. Sometimes I imagine if a tragedy struck or the world ended while doing this, how would I feel? There’s more to it than that.

Thank you for this paraphrased quote by some Thurman guy:  “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Thank you for thoughts that relieve pressure. Like the thought that if my fate was to commit suicide and instead I end up not only dying naturally (or by accident) but also doing even the tiniest good with the life lived beyond my doomed destiny—then I’m way ahead. So I don’t have to save the whole world. Yes, the whole world needs saving, but I can just do something, anything, good. That is a big accomplishment for me. Loving my dog or sharing healthy food or letting people know I appreciate them or being nice to someone who’s grumpy is a start. I don’t need an awesome job that sounds impressive. I can try a job that does a little good.

Thank you for new insights from listening to Andrew Huberman on the Rich Roll Podcast. Two highlights for me were the notion of gap effects to facilitate learning and the physiological sigh to induce calm.

Thank you for rants that sprouted from a fast.

Thank you for dogs that enjoy plant-based diets.

Thank you for strength.

Thank you for time off to heal from the traumas of an unhealthy workplace and society.

Thank you for that constant rushed feeling slowly diminishing. Days can actually unfold according to schedule. Birds don’t need caffeine to boost them through the day, or artificial lights because they still have loads to do after the sun goes down. Dolphins aren’t lazy for playing in the waves. Look at nature. I’d say that it is pathological to feel constantly rushed, that we are never enough or never on time. My thought is that to be at ease much of our lives may actually be the right feeling, the healthy way. The trick is to find ease and spread it around.

Thank you for lush green mountains that are actually hills.

Thank you for awareness of others’ (and my) less healthy parts coupled with appreciation of their (and my) more healthy parts, and acceptance of all combined.

Thank you for how good it felt to apologize to a neighbor at Seminole (esp. since the apology was accepted).

Thank you for gyms and treadmills.

Thank you for workouts to Jesus’ music.

Thank you for RB always.

Thank you for someone stimulating and kind to listen to.

Thank you for someone who may be listening to me.

Thank you for the mood lift from 10-20 minutes of running.

Thank you for afternoon visits to Abby’s.

Thank you for caring friends.

Thank you for communities large and small.

Thank you for wise advice from neighbors.

Thank you for days when it’s cool enough that Peaches doesn’t pant.

Thank you for aid organizations.

Thank you for healing from trauma.

Thank you for feelings of calm.

Thank you for well-stocked grocery stores (healthy stuff).

Thank you for accessible health care.

Thank you for the services and structures that allow us a measure of freedom, comfort, and safety.

Thank you for sweet doggies and for those lucky enough to be cared for by them. Thank you for friends and family whose pooches are their universe.

Thank you for the mystery and confusion of being alive.

Thank you for peace.

Thank you for siblings.

Thank you for respectful jokes.

Thank you for mellow.

Thank you for solidarity in virtue.

Thank you for daily rituals.

Thank you for solutions.

Thank you for confidence in goodness.

Thank you for mornings planting, weeding, and watering at the nearby parks with caring volunteers.

Thank you for infrastructure.

Thank you for peaceful resistance.

Thank you for when the bully’s ill will becomes inert.

Thank you for strong, benevolent leadership.

Thank you for a content feeling after munching potatoes and sweet potatoes.

Thank you for chocolate chips.

Thank you for baby oak trees.

Thank you for the latest RRPs. The Johann Hari one inspired me to use airplane mode, or at least to set down my phone more (efforts are ongoing) in order to reclaim focus.

Marianne Williamson’s episode resonated with me, too. She drops truth bombs? “The path that we are here to monitor is not somebody else’s. . . .  The path that you’re here to monitor, very vigilantly, is your own.” Here is a quote she attributed to Ernest Hemingway. I think it goes like this: “The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places.”  

Thank you for Peaches teaching me to be more loving.

Thank you for nights when staying awake past ten is a struggle.

Thank you for BT’s role as a godmother to a dog, and now a dog mother. Thank you for her safe trip to AZ and back.

Thank you for family caring for each other out of love.

Thank you for exfoliation and hydration.

Thank you for vegan ice cream sandwiches at TJ’s. A bonus is the cookie part sticking to teeth and fingers.

Thank you for missing a loved one, because having someone you care about enough to miss is special.

Thank you for hope and faith in love.

Thank you for all the repeats, and for your patience with them.

Thank you for the vulnerability that helps others trust us.

Thank you for repeated attempts at communication. We improve with practice.

Thank you for tenacity.

Thank you for what’s worth being tenacious for, like learning and loving.

Thank you for Miranda’s (Monstera’s) new leaf.

Thank you for prayers and meditations sending love to oppressed and oppressors in the midst of unfathomable suffering.

Thank you for hope in silver linings.

Thank you for when tragedies catalyze unity and care.

Thank you for a neighbor who teaches yoga from her home. Thank you for how much better I feel after her classes.

Thank you for the warmth of Peaches.

Thank you for awareness that maybe none of us are at our best considering the state of the world (on multiple levels). We deserve compassion, understanding, patience, forgiveness.

Thank you for chickpea not-tuna salad.

Thank you for crunchy pickles.

Thank you for the glass of water on the table next to me.

Thank you for Bob the Italian mastiff letting me pet him.

Thank you for my body malfunctioning because it reminds me of how fortunate we all are when our bodies function well.

Thank you for the parrot gang squawking around town again.

Thank you for fly-catching skills.

Thank you for thoughts recorded. The process of reflection and writing raises self awareness that makes growth inevitable. 

Thank you for faith dissolving barriers. Thank you for persistent seeking that frees love.

Thank you for quiet nights with warm blankets and colorful dreams.

Thank you for everything RB. 

Thank you for a walk at dusk with R and A. 

Thank you for healthy green babies.

Thank you for BO inspiring me to volunteer again.

Thank you for a warm and friendly 83rd birthday party (not mine). Thank you for all the neighbors who brought it to be.

Thank you for intentions set for the day ahead before climbing out of bed. Here are some: to be compassionate, to listen to others mindfully, to take time, to be productive, to be courageous. 

Thank you for awareness of the impact of words and phrasing. For instance, the wish to be fearless is followed by awareness that “fearless” includes both “fear” and “less.” Awareness of those words’ impact leads to a reframing: I choose to focus on being courageous instead. Here is another example from workouts: to keep going, I may repeat, “Don’t stop,” which includes both “don’t” and “stop.” Since those words are counter to my aims of encouragement, I reframe and tell myself, “Keep going.” 

Thank you for the notion of mindful consumption of thoughts—that we are consumers of our very own thoughts. If, say, the words of encouragement or simple narratives we repeat to ourselves are unintentionally, arbitrarily framed in less than positive terms, we can intentionally rephrase our thoughts with new wording that promotes hope and encouragement.

Thank you for the immense treasure of beautiful, colorful, clever, poetic, romantic, funny, sad, happy songs introduced to me over the past year and a half.

Thank you for how that music enlivens my days and deepens my emotions.

Thank you for friends with diverse beliefs and attitudes, and for greater acceptance. Thank you for the insight that our commonalities, what unites us, matter more than our differences. We have loved ones. We have all felt vulnerable and will feel that way again. We face illness, aging, death. We need clean air and water, nourishment, shelter, companionship. We feel fears and enjoy pleasures. Something about the natural world resonates with something inside each of us. We thrive when cared for. Basic aspects of the human experience may be the most meaningful bits of life, and they’re shared across humanity.

Thank you (again) for purposeful times of rest. Thank you for rest making active time more productive.

Thank you for the moon showing up outside the front door early one morning after a dream that it had fallen from the sky into darkness.

Thank you for white owls.

Thank you for trusted doctors who care for patients with covid and other ailments.

Thank you for eye contact.

Thank you for gentle transitions, like from sleep to waking.

Thank you for genuinely, wholeheartedly loved friends and family. 

Thank you for how we improve at what we focus our time and efforts on. So when we focus on being more caring, compassionate, and loving, then we become stronger in those areas.

Thank you for a clean toilet and house.

Thank you for opportunities to learn. They are always available.

Thank you (again) for the alchemy of compost.

Thank you for days of twos (02-20-22 and 02-22-22).

Thank you for safe, fun, challenging, breathtaking bike rides. Thank you for the playlists that put them over the top. Thank you for the much-loved person in the background.

Thank you for wine cravings that aren’t indulged.

Thank you for the safety and wellbeing of the community.

Thank you for a (slightly caffeine-fueled) feeling of warmth toward pretty much every living thing.

Thank you for the coyote on Mulholland who greeted me on a Sunday morning ride.

Thank you for garlicky fingers.

Thank you for pasta with tomatoes and garlic for dinner.

Thank you for the distant memory of an ex-bf calling me Garleeka. He was making fun of my stink from too much bruschetta. In hindsight it’s funny. Thank you for nicer nicknames from future BF.

Thank you for lasting love, transformative hope, mutual forgiveness, exceptional mediocrity, and hard work.

Thank you for real life.

Thank you for snowball effects of inspiration. Thank you for positive feedback loops, when we treat each other well and our healing multiplies.

Thank you for the determination to say and do embarrassing things, repeatedly. That way I reclaim freedom.

Thank you for togetherness.

Thank you for what is worth waiting for.

Thank you for wellness and healing. 

Thank you for happy faces :D

Thank you for the nuns and monks at Plum Village. 

Thank you for our (Peaches and my) hawk friend. (I think we’re friends now but not sure.)

Thank you for garlic and onions.

Thank you for Peaches letting me trim her fur mats in sensitive areas.

Thank you for restful nights.

Thank you for when the thing I put off doing (paperwork) ended up easier than anticipated.

Thank you for the actions we take not for people to know we’ve taken them but instead because something inside us thinks they’re worthwhile.

Thank you for safe, clean, scenic, publicly maintained roads and paths for actively enjoying nature.

Thank you for simple folks.

Thank you for friends.

Thank you for trees.

Thank you for tree people growing their reach.

Thank you for in-person meditation retreats starting back up.

Thank you for B being cared for and accepting care graciously. Thank you for everyone who is surrounding her with love.

Thank you for supportive, friendly communities.

Thank you for Abby and Donegal.

Thank you for slightly greater awareness of attachments and for less discomfort letting go.

Thank you for emptiness, signlessness, and aimlessness—even if I don’t fully get them.

Thank you for clean teeth.

Thank you for the color of dragon fruit.

Thank you for bobcats and Bob dogs.

Thank you for more EVs and hopefully fewer combustion engines, less driving, and fewer cars overall.

Thank you for the possibility of a cleaner future.

Thank you for G and N enjoying their EV.

Thank you for enjoyment of silence, or maybe rather than complete silence, peace.

Thank you for when I’m calm enough to notice the peace around me.

Thank you for that one stretch on Mulholland that’s mournfully peaceful.

Thank you for a life (mine) to manage.

Thank you for chores feeling happier when I realize what a privilege it is to run a household.

Thank you for blossoms buzzing with bees. One bush down the hill had hundreds of them!

Thank you for reasonable prices on pasta, beans, cabbage, sweet potatoes, and so on.

Thank you for understanding that dissolves negativity into lovingkindness.

Thank you for cupcakes on the counter and frosting in the fridge.

Thank you for Peaches kiss-licking the palm of my hand when I brush her in the mornings. 

Thank you for moon-gazing with her.

Thank you for our routines.

Thank you for the man in the moon.

Thank you for the reason I fell in love with succulents.

Thank you for patience.

Thank you for courage to love.

Thank you for imperfect lives sprinkled with joy.

Thank you for days of rain.

Thank you for days of rain ending.

Thank you for roaring waterfalls.

Thank you for Peaches washing my hand.

Thank you for writing with paper and pencil.

Thank you for others sharing their routines to inspire healthy habits.

Thank you for couples in love who inspire hope.

Thank you for language being a code.

Thank you for helmets.

Thank you for time to meditate.

Thank you for Peaches cuddling up next to me.

Thank you for Paul Hawken’s recent work (Regeneration). Maybe I already mentioned it. There are lots of repeats here, but there’s lots of stuff I feel grateful for repeatedly. So it’s ok.

Thank you for Matthew Walker educating the public on sleep. He shares how adequate, quality sleep is crucial for psychological and physical well being. Thank you for how his talk on the RRP is inspiring me to sleep better (quality and quantity). Also it gave me a deeper appreciation for the magic of sleep and dreams. (I’m a sleep deprived WIP while writing this, ironically.)

Thank you for thriving forests.

Thank you for when we see past ourselves.

Thank you for our care and compassion for other beings and how that is part of our care and compassion for ourselves.

Thank you for cancel culture losing popularity. To cancel it would be to perpetuate it, so that won’t work. I guess it helps to gently encourage compassionate alternatives, and to model those alternatives through forgiveness, acceptance, and nurturing in one’s own life (attitudes, speech, behavior).

Thank you for circularity and closed loops.

Thank you for food to eat.

Thank you for frogs outside. I’m so happy to hear you. 

Thank you for ferns.

Thank you for a loving home, even if it’s just Peaches and plants and me.

Thank you for clean air.

Thank you for morning walk-jogs and chats with power couple C & J. Thank you for J sharing that he was at our lot after it burned (before we met). He liked or needed to stand on the fresh rubble to help process the tragedy that pervaded our community. As an HSP, he also said that he could feel what the people who had lived in those spots felt. Standing on our rubble, he told me there was a sense of sadness coming from older people. I wondered about that comment. I had always assumed that my dad is in a better place where suffering just doesn’t happen—that he’s beyond worldly concerns. J’s comment led me to question. If my dad and his family—lost aunts and uncles and grandparents, etc.—have insight into our suffering here on earth, do they then feel pain, too? Does my hurt cause my father’s spirit to grieve? The possibility of him feeling my pain has been a strong motivator to happiness. If I work through worries, if I cultivate a positive, joyous attitude, maybe the spirits of my dad and his family will feel heartened along with me.

Thank you for the kind, interesting, inspiring friends made since moving back home and for reconnections with old neighbors. They flooded me with unexpected care. They are how I strive to be.

Thank you for how easy it has felt to meet neighbors since moving back to Cornell. Is the community more welcoming after the fire? Am I less shy? Am I less of an a-hole? (Hopefully.) Is this the most genuinely, comfortably social I’ve ever been? Maybe so. Is it a jump to conclude that the feelings of comfort and kinship mean that this town is “home”?

Thank you for questions.

Thank you for a cold orange to start a big breakfast.

Thank you for when I will have a stable residence and can focus more energy on other causes.

Thank you for the little bird balancing toward the tip of a thin reed at Seminole where the lake once stood. The little guy bounced up and down like a diver on a board before pushing up to the sky. It made me happy for some reason.

Thank you for when I notice an uncomfortable thought or feeling fused with a reflex to escape the discomfort. (Sometimes the push to escape manifests in an urge to play with my phone.) When I notice those feelings of discomfort that nudge me to avoidance, I can pause just long enough to call them out: I feel discomfort and am drawn to escape it.

Thank you for the opportunity to connect with an extraordinary woman-and-daughter pair living in an RV up in the mountains on their “burnout lot.” They felt like family, like when you’re on someone’s side and want them to thrive.

Thank you for hugs despite the pandemic.

Thank you for Hero the bloodhound. Thank you for healing music. Thank you for dreamers who risk it all to try a new life, and who find abundance and peace. Thank you for the gratitude that inspires giving back.

Thank you for brown leaves for the compost from N down the hill.

Thank you for B’s surgery and recovery going well.

Thank you for L’s job opportunity out of state and the adventure it promises.

Thank you for M and K recovering.

Thank you for the succulent cuttings from K that are growing roots. (I adore you, Ric Rac!) 

Thank you for the ones we love staying in our hearts despite their (sometimes difficult to understand) prolonged absence. 

Thank you for future reunions with former friends.

Thank you for our courage to face fears—of failure, success, change, love… 

Thank you for earlier bedtimes, less screen time, more bike and jog and yoga, stronger faith, a happier outlook.

Thank you for interconnected life, so that my health and wellness benefit you, and vice versa. Please be well!

Thank you for the RRP with Anna Lembke on addiction, especially minutes 26-30 when she talks about dopamine deficit states, and minutes 51-54-ish where they discuss the difference between acute and protracted withdrawal. Protracted withdrawal, which is more psychological, can go on for months and years and includes irritability, anxiety, depression, insomnia, etc. 

There are always circumstances I can point to as depressing. And there are also circumstances I can point to as uplifting. They say it’s our (malleable) perspective on all the concrete stuff, “good” and “bad,” that determines how we consequently feel. But sometimes how we feel, influenced by addictions and withdrawal, works in reverse to color our perspectives on the more concrete life circumstances. It’s important to look for this effect and be aware when it happens.

Realizing that both moods and perspectives can be influenced by withdrawal from substances and other so-called “addictions” has motivated me to be less addicted, sidestepping the need for will power. Instead of willpower there is power in awareness of what happens when I get hooked on something and how unsustainable, even long-term defeating, the momentary pleasure or relief is. The pull to escape pain and pursue feeling good may be there every day but doesn’t completely rule me, at least not all the time. I’m grateful for that.

Do I constantly feel tempted to do what will be less than healthy in the long term? Yes. Do I indulge the more obviously dangerous cravings? No. My biggest addictions lately involve screen time. Thankfully, will power is not something that ever worked for me, so part of me knows it’s futile to try that. Mindfulness in conjunction with education and released from anxiety is especially effective. Sometimes this can be as simple as taking a few seconds to think through the long-term consequences of indulging an impulse. (It helps me to see that I may feel temporary relief but will be even more down the following day or two.) Or it can be stopping to realize that I do have a choice when it feels like I don’t. Little stuff like that helps with my anxiety and addictive impulses.

Thank you for patience gained from cleaning up after a gnarly toilet mishap.

Thank you for the sound of rain. It’s beautiful. It thrills me. It scares me. It reminds me of the more extreme weather we are causing. It touches my heart. It takes me back to my dad’s last days. We had so much rain then. He would wake up on occasion and point to the window. It was his way of asking, “Is there water out there?” So we’d shake or nod our heads to let him know. When he was well, if a storm came, he always wanted to make sure the drains on the roof weren’t clogged. He’d check for leaks and such. That’s who he was. He didn’t seem to know any other way to be than to look after the house and us.

Thank you for a new way to make lists and keep myself accountable. Recently I switched away from the weekly self-care chart, where for each day of the week I’d cross off as many self-care cells as possible: yoga, walking/biking/jogging, reading, writing, meditating, studying French. Those were baseline activities I felt needed to happen on a pretty regular basis to keep me somewhat healthy (in addition to nurturing relationships, searching for a permanent residence, daily living tasks, finding a passion.)… But you know what? Crossing items off a list is not so rewarding anymore. It even leaves me feeling defeated. So instead of making a chart with boxes that get X-ed out every day, I’m writing in what I do as if each activity is an accomplishment added to life rather than something to be checked off. This new way feels better. I almost realize a little bit here and there that daily life can be exciting. It’s a privilege to do what we do every single day. Hopefully, without ignoring the huge existential challenges humanity faces, excitement for life will build in me this year (which will better equip me to deal with those huge challenges). 

Thank you for New Year’s resolutions. Here are some thoughts:

• Think of yearly, monthly, or long term, rather than daily goals.

• Instead of crossing off to-do’s, add up accomplishments. (Make it additive rather than subtractive?)

• Find healthy replacements for screen time, especially for music app (which may have been feeding delusions or at least expectations, and was damaging to my mental health), game apps, and YouTube.

• Be more giving. (It will help to be specific.)

• Achieve greater stability. (It will help to be specific.)

• Organize and re-think blog. (Ditto.)

Thank you for a listen to Ryan Holiday today on RRP (without that one app, I listen to the RRP more). He was talking about the value of sitting quietly with your own thoughts. I think doing that is really difficult and important. Like last night, I wanted to veg out with sudoku or thrift shop online until my eyes couldn’t stay open. Instead, I lay in bed quietly in the dark. I let feelings of sadness and abandonment bleed into my awareness. I felt the hurt that was already eating up my insides. It was there before, but sitting quietly allowed it to seep through. That’s how I fell asleep, in emotional distress. Waking up this morning was hardly better. The rain was torrential and my insides stormed to match. But the rest of the day has been calm, content, and strong. The painful moments took me back to November 2017 when I felt sort of brokenhearted. One day I floated in the ocean and did nothing but rest there feeing sadness. It really helped. So, yes, Ryan Holiday, I agree with you. Sitting quietly is not for the weak. Feeling the pain of life is not easy. If you choose that path, it will do good for your heart and mind. Ironically, feeling the misery has given me deeper, more genuine contentment. Like right now, I appreciate life and have love in my heart.

Thank you for all of the kindness you have shown in big and small ways, which is more than you probably realize. Merry Christmas <3

Thank you for rain.

Thank you for cozy blankets.

Thank you for simple living.

Thank you for adjusted (down) expectations for myself lately, accepting rather than pushing.

Thank you for a cinnamon and spice muffin scented house.

Thank you for the gift and practice of seeing good in life despite feeling low. Even amid tragedies goodness shines. Love is always here.

Thank you for the warmth that emanates from love stories.

Thank you for unexpected road blocks, literally, that rearrange plans. Earlier this week my car being locked inside the road closure resulted in a peaceful night.

Thank you for a beautiful dog friend (Lady Peach). Being with her reinforces my faith in lasting love. Years after we met, coming home to her is still exciting. Hopefully she’s happy with me, too.

Thank you for bugs. 

Thank you, again, for all the repeat thank yous and sorry for the redundancy.

Thank you for dirt. 

Thank you for noisy birds. 

Thank you for ric rac cactus. You overflow my being with emotion.

Thank you for the dream of more nursery outings.

Thank you for how happy it felt to be social and active outdoors today. 

Thank you for bike rides.

Thank you for crisp sunny fall skies.

Thank you for walking down the hill with Peaches this afternoon, meeting new neighbors and greeting a familiar one. 

Thank you for interesting, kind, warm people. They are all around us!

Thank you for K and M. Thank you for their gift of plants. Succulents! Hopefully our green babies thrive.

Thank you for faith.

Thank you for a successful Friday morning working out the water issue. Thank you for friends who offered advice.

Thank you for warm baths and clean hair and laundry hanging to dry.

Thank you for the new owner of our lot calling after escrow closed. I hope it works out well for him and his family, and for the land and the life our choices impact.

Thank you for a neighbor at Malibou Lake helping with the search for a new place to call home.

Thank you for chances to be with nature (especially with animals, human and otherwise).

Thank you for the value in smiles and eye contact.

Thank you for the value in caring gestures and words.

Thank you for the value in listening. With the holidays, it feels like I’ve come slightly more unraveled and would benefit from deep listening.

Thank you for brilliant WUI moonlight.

Thank you for the love you give. Thank you for the love we feel and exchange. May it multiply and spread! <3

Thank you for all the repeat thank yous, like wabi sabi.

Thank you for problems revealing depth and beauty. 

Thank you for Elaine Aron introducing the notion of HSP to further our understanding of selves and others.

Thank you for photosynthesis. 

Thank you for a home surrounded by nature. Opening the front door is an awesome experience.

Thank you for fog clearing.

Thank you for accidental encounters of other vegans.

Thank you for the expressiveness of doggy eyes.

Thank you for crooked teeth (like Peaches’ snaggle).

Thank you for adversity giving the opportunity to practice gratitude, kindness, and calm along with that elusive balance of tenacity and surrender.

Thank you for love that gives space with faith in the outcome, whatever it may be.

Thank you for houses on lakes.

Thank you for when I pay attention to messages from my unconscious mind. The past couple weeks I’ve been accidentally bumping my head hard enough to leave lumps. Then I cycled up and down the snake with the quick release on my front wheel unknowingly open and very loose. It’s the first time that has happened. Usually I do an ABCQ check before each ride (air, brakes, chain, quick release). Along with the risky, bumpy times, a voice in a dream warned, “You’re not on the right path. You know what the right path is.” It’s like when I accidentally cut the little piece off my finger. My conscious mind had been spinning out of control with worry, obsessing over mysteries and the future. So the unconscious mind, to save my psyche from the further damage that worrying would cause, chose to hurt my body. It did so either as a wake up call or just to give my mind a healthier subject to focus on. (Bodily injury is perhaps a healthier focus than is spinning wheels brooding about mysteries beyond one’s control.) It’s still worrisome, the possibility of accidentally hurting myself. Hopefully I am respecting my mind so that it doesn’t resort to drastic measures. 

Thank you for when I am able to give space. In some cases presence doesn’t mean love, and absence doesn’t mean hate. It’s the opposite. The most compassionate way to treat loved ones may be to give room and time for them to gain clarity, stability, calm, etc., free from pressure.

Thank you for tart cranberry orange smoothies with vanilla.

Thank you for beans on the pot.

Thank you for plant parents.

Thank you for LF reaching out after a long absence. Thank you for her ability to cope and thrive despite hardship. Thank you for her caring, genuine attitude.

Thank you for peaceful Sunday feelings.

Thank you for the importance of rest for productivity.

Thank you for highly anticipated bedtimes.

Thank you for all of us who are realizing it’s time to replace judgments and anger and shaming with acceptance, forgiveness, and love of one another and selves.

Thank you for still being here. I appreciate you! Be well <3

Thank you for hardware.

Thank you for henna hair dye that is safe to wash down the drain and healthy for hair.

Thank you for intuition that strengthens with practice.

Thank you for our relationships with our inner selves. My inner self may benefit given more respect from her outer self.

Thank you for natural scents.

Thank you for thredup. That’s where I found the vest and jacket that the alter-me wore in my dream. She was walking tall in the woods alongside her partner near their house filled with treasures, out of harm’s way. 

Thank you for beloved neighbors’ gifts of persimmons and pomegranates. 

Thank you for the luxury to wake up slow and cuddle until Peaches is ready to get up.

Thank you for best friends.

Thank you for my belief in your and my healing.

Thank you for fresh thoughts on jogs. This morning I thought about self esteem. It’s not a fully baked thought but here you go. Zero sum investment gains do not build genuine self esteem, and such investment losses do not reflect lack of self worth. 

What I mean is that if I invest in some aspect of me compared to others, and come to see myself as having more of it or higher quality (and others thus as having less of it or lower quality), then any boost I get from the comparison is not adding to my genuine self worth. On the flip side, if I look at what others have or do as being more or better than me, the perceived lack in me is only illusory. 

Why? It sounds mushy or weird but this is how I feel. It’s because true self worth, and hence how we accurately esteem ourselves, comes from an inherent value within us all, in equal (i.e., infinite) measure. It’s only when we see ourselves on the level with everyone else that our self esteem matches reality. It’s only when we see our individual uniqueness on par with the uniqueness of each living being that we get it. And when we do that, we will not feel need to compare our relative worths from the outside—in terms of milestones we’ve reached at each decade of our life, or how far or fast we can run or cycle or swim relative to others, or where we live, or what our kids or partners accomplish, or how much money we earn, or our job titles or academic degrees, or our height or weight or house or car. Those comparisons may have some purpose but that purpose is not to delineate our value nor distinguish it from the value of another. 

On the contrary, the good that I see in myself, if it’s genuine, is inside you, too. My good reflects yours, and vice versa. They never compete. Our worths are interdependent because we are not disconnected. We are one.

The meaningful piece of that oneness may hide within. We all share built-in magic at our cores as long as we are alive. Each of us is an equally incomparable little particle of light, each occupying its own space in time, equally capable to shine love and worthy to receive it. That’s what makes us both invaluable and inseparable. We’re made of the same stuff and need each other to make meaning, to move from being a single dot to a full ray. When we grasp our equality—that we are as miraculous, no more and no less, than everyone else—that all of us are treasures—then our self esteem realizes it cannot be earned or demonstrated through performance metrics that single us out. It comes from an inner, unshakeable place of unity. There is no competition! Everyone is a winner.

Thank you for lights left on for loved ones.

Thank you for the cricket chirping outside my window.

Thank you for critters in the WUI.

Thank you for new leaves.

Thank you for optimism and relief from anxiety after a post-game discussion with K and M. They helped me to feel like there is no hurry to find a long-term landing spot for the house, and everything will be alright. 

Thank you for when I am able to give back, even in small ways, to friends who give me so much.

Thank you for numbers ending in 035.

Thank you for the happiness we exchange through friendships.

Thank you for community.

Thank you for sensitive men.

Thank you for sensitive women.

Thank you for sensitive couples.

Thank you for cold face washes in the mornings.

Thank you for walks up the hill.

Thank you for coziness.

Thank you for my brain starting to feel less chaotic and more calm.

Thank you for a couple recent jogs to the view site and back with new running shoes and happy music.

Thank you for canned pumpkin in stock meaning Peaches can enjoy her usual soup.

Thank you for my ABQ family’s upcoming visit.

Thank you for 9:30 lovingkindness meditations.

Thank you for lion hearts.

Thank you for chocolate chips.

Thank you for the possibility to move nearby. It’s just a possibility, but it brings happiness to consider.

Thank you for kabocha coconut curry.

Thank you for plants at the local hardware store.

Thank you for smiles that make comebacks. Quite a bit ago, it felt like my smile had abandoned me. Pictures showed me stretching the sides of my mouth to mimic the shape of a smile. The contrived expression barely masked one of genuine pain. I worried back then that effortful (i.e., fake) smiles were a permanent effect of growing older. Thankfully they were not. Now crinkly-eyed, tooth-filled, cheeky grins bust out every day. If you seem to have lost your smile, please rest assured. It may just be temporary!

Thank you for the notary, Kimberly, who came for my signature on the grant deed. We talked about the power of positive thinking. I love meaningful conversations with strangers. Seeing the tiny house on the burnout lot I think opens folks up to feel freer with me, I’m not sure. But the house and the lot, the fire’s devastation, etc., are great conversation starters. It reinforces that so many of us are concerned about what is happening in our world and interested in living a new way.

Thank you for a peaceful feeling. I wish it on you!