thankful thursday

Thankful Thursday: sight and vision

What do you notice first: the webbed branches of this ficus tree, its glossy green leaves, or the hummingbird zipping by? 

When you look at this second picture, do you gravitate toward the shifty-eyed monster? And if so, how long did it take you to notice the thorny branches piercing the blue sky–or to settle your gaze on the hummingbirds, feasting on nectar?

I snapped these photos outside my voice teacher’s home in Laguna.  Graininess aside, they illustrate for me an excerpt from WRITING BEGINS WITH THE BREATH: 

Stories are layers that can only be uncovered by focusing long enough to see what’s underneath. What we think we want to write about is just the visible surface of what there is for us to write about. As we approach that surface and crack it, we will find the hidden depth of our stories.

I’m grateful today (as always) for healthy eyes, and grateful, too, for Light with which to see. I appreciate that each new day offers me another opportunity to observe–and then write–with better clarity.

Tail-wagging & other ways of giving thanks

One of my favorite Southernisms is, "It’s a sad puppy that won’t wag its own tail."  My Yankee interpretation? It’s a back-door reminder to give thanks for our blessings. 

I think it’s engrained in us to be humble about our achievements, maybe even self-effacing.  Especially women: On the whole, we’re more reluctant to give ourselves a shout-out. (Cross your legs at the ankles, keep your thoughts to yourself…) But I think we should celebrate every achievement, tangible or otherwise. 

So…What say we do some tail-wagging for Thankful Thursday? I’m fully caffeinated, so how ’bout I start? 

Last week, a thick cloud of dirt and debris pelted my ankles and darkened my doorway. Life’s like that sometimes, isn’t it? But by nightfall yesterday, I’d managed to tamp down the dust, and to reshape the experience into an important scene for my memoir.  As I watched the sunrise from my office window this morning, I reflected on this minor miracle. Bolstered by supportive friends and family, I’d managed to turn lemons into lemonade, water into wine…[insert your favorite metaphor]. My sense of accomplishment has more to do with counting my blessings (again, grace) than numbering the words I typed. And yet, I have to add, I wrote quite a lot!

You’re next on the parade route. C’mon, let’s hear you toot that horn! With all due apologies for another mixed metaphor.