Being mindful of favorite things

“Things hidden rap at the doors.”

Ukrainian proverb

“To forget yourself is to be awakened to all things.”

Dogen Genjo koan

As the Thanksgiving holiday approached, I was grumpy and “out of sorts,” as some say. I had received some dismaying news, and while usually I would find myself working through such news with logic and reason, this time I found myself immersed in my own ego and totally unreasonable.

How could they? What about me? Don’t they know that I .... Blah, blah, blah. I ranted. I raved. I wallowed. I cried at every turn. The world itself was out to get me. I would be heard on this. Angry and hurt, I finally came to the realization that, mostly, I was just sad. Old sorrows mingled with the new and I feared I might be in this for a long haul.

And then I was done. As quickly as the sadness had come, it was gone. I awakened early one morning and took my disheartened self to walk the shore at Crystal Cove. As I walked amid the splendors of a beautiful morning, I was suddenly aware of a song repeating over and over in my head.

“These are a few of my favorite things.... “ I could not hold the sadness along with raindrops and roses and whiskers on kittens. I was adding my own favorites. I had moved through the sorrow, letting it run its course. Oh, sure, there would be more moments when the loss would hit me again, but having allowed myself the space to grieve, allowed sadness to “rap at the door,” I now had room for feeling delight and joy once again.

A life filled with joy doesn’t mean there is no sorrow. In fact, how could we truly know joy without allowing for the acceptance of sorrow that both encompasses and transcends it -- folding it into the very joy itself? And so as I write these words just before Thanksgiving Day itself, I think of all there is to celebrate, of the things for which I will give thanks. Here are just a few of my favorite things:

The play of light and shadow early and late.

Chatter of a tree filled with iridescent hummingbirds.

The sounds of children at play ... their laughter so pure.

The shimmer of sunlight on water.

The cool autumn dawn colors of pink, lavender and blue, mixed with soft yellow first light.

The trilling sound of turnstones as they rush among mounds of seaweed.

The glide of the armada of pelicans low over the water.

The breeze on my skin.

Baby fingers curled round my own.

The touch of a hand or a smile in friendship.

The sight of leaping dolphins just offshore.

Sunset colors on sand and water that reflect the sky.

The screech of the morning hawk and the cawing of crows at day’s end.

The smell of a fresh-cut lemon.

The remembered voice of my grandmother warbling an old song.

My father’s smile, now gone from this place.

The smell of fresh-mown grass, the green stalks cool between my fingers.

Slow, silent paddling at the end of a day, joined by myriad damselflies flitting through thick rushes.

The glint of sea glass in soft sand.

The darkness of morning when light just begins to seep into the sky.

Yes, these are a few -- just a few -- of my favorite things. When I have done with my sadness and remember these things, as the song says, “then I don’t feel so bad.”

This week marks the beginning of the holiday season and is a time of joyous remembrances and good cheer as we think of others and gather together.

Yet for many it is also a time that marks the loss of a loved one, and so there is also some sadness. It seems to me important to note this, to acknowledge and respect that the sadness may coexist with the joy.

There are so many sorrows that enter each life, and we should not ignore them for they will rap at the door. Once sorrow has for the moment run its course, though, favorite things and thanks-giving and gratitude for the special moments in life remain to sustain us. I wish you all a special Happy Thanksgiving. May you remember your own favorite things.

(Also, thank you to all those who responded to my last column with the information that the words on my scrap of paper were from the poem “The Dash” by Linda Ellis. Visit her website at www.lindaslyrics.com.)

* Cherril Doty is a creative life coach and artist, exploring the mysteries of life as they come. You can reach her by e-mail at cherril@cherrildoty.com or by calling 949-251-3883.

20051125h3qwm5kf(LA)