It is the nearing the end of Thanksgiving Day here in the United States, and it has been a lovely day, revolving as it has around family and food, and the rituals we humans share of filling body and heart with warmth, companionship, and love. Thanksgiving is a good day, and I am grateful for it and the opportunity to reconnect and reconsider all the good things in our lives.
I spent much of the early part of the day in the kitchen, cooking at a rather leisurly pace since I was not hosting the actual dinner, and this gave me ample time for reflection as I worked. It was a pleasure to be working in the kitchen, sunshine filling the house, G entranced by the Thanksgiving Day Parade, occasionally dozing.
It seems like it had been an eternity since I actually enjoyed cooking, reveled in it in fact, and it struck me on Thanksgiving morning how lucky we were to have found this peaceful place in our lives.
As I chopped and stirred, cleaned and started the process all over again, I thought about how well this move to Knoxville has gone, how much happier G is here, and how memory and the weight of history is sometimes a burden too great to bear. Although there are many good things to say about this move, I am also certain that no small part of the improvement is due to the simple fact of the change in location. Part of acceptance involves letting go of the past. In the process of releasing those parts of our pasts that weigh us down, we also release our selves from self recrimination and even allow memory to flow more freely.
Freed from the constraints of "should-have-done" we are free to enjoy and explore.
There was a brief moment during my kitchen labors when my personal demon, the little gluttonous spirit who drives me to over-do, tried to step up and plague my thoughts, but I banished her as I placed a bowl of onions in the freezer for a few moments so I could chop them without crying, and instead thought sharing food is an act of love and a reaching out to others. Enjoy the process and the sharing and it is enough, but too much of anything becomes a burden. Better to cook with love; better to sit on the sofa holding my sweetheart's hand.
I shall simply give thanks that I have enough.
Well, perhaps I have too much cranberry sauce.
