DEEPLY AWAKE - THANKSGIVING PRAYER

 

DEEPLY AWAKE – THANKSGIVING PRAYER

 

(I'm reading this to my family on Thanksgiving)

 

For my loved ones on Thanksgiving.

 

I feel deeply grateful today, and really, everyday, but I am glad that we have decided that there can at least be one day a year set aside for remembering goodness, remembering our gifts, remembering, even, that we might have a hand in all this magic.

 

I hold nothing but love for the people at this table. The stories which we have always referred to each other in, we the star, the other as hero or villain, or both, or neither, these stories have changed in rhythm and depth for me lately. The childhood I once recovered is not the one I now carry in my heart. In this heart, I know of some struggle and trouble, sure, but all of that has faded into a gentle hum that vary rarely disturbs me anymore.

 

I know you now, my family here while we shelter awhile on Earth, you I see as great energetic giants.

 

I have come to know myself as a bigger light than I guessed, and yet, I am small, though magnificent, when shown in company. We all, each of us, are brilliant diamonds, and I could not have chosen a better group of people to push against for these at times ungodly 51 years.

 

Each of you has had to be stronger than you currently appreciate. We set up so many dances, so many trials, and each one of them, you showed up, you did well, even if your job was to sit on your hands while I ran blindly into walls. You did well, and I thank you.

 

I know that what is here, in front of us this day, is a tasty, earnest symbol of love, tenderness and forgiveness. It is a table heavy with pleasure and kindness and high regard.

 

I could not have ended this run on a sweeter note.

 

But I know this is the beginning to a new way of appreciating every day as if it is Thanksgiving, because, if I decide, would it be such a bad thing if I chose to make every day Thanksgiving?

 

In any case, with these new eyes of mine, I can appreciate gifts and needs in my family I couldn't before, and I hope this translates into ever more gentleness, more forbearance. This is, after all, a family, so there will always be times when we are too much for each other, but even that can be recognized in love, in humor.

 

I think about how everyone is deepening and strengthening in front of me, and I want to share what it was like to watch Sam dance last week. It was the biggest blessing I've ever received, and I want to share it as a reminder of how important it is to never assume that what you think about someone is true. Let them tell you. Let them show you who they are. If someone like Sam does, you will know you have attained a tender and soft heart, one that will never be broken again.

 

Sam said that for a couple of weeks he had this urge to get up and dance. I can remember him talking about it, but he never did the thing, he just would mention it and I would lazily tell him he should look up Tai Chi on youtube. So much for my mothering skills, poor kid.

 

Anyway, one night last week he said that he was really urged to get up and dance. We decided to record it, and he picked out his favorite song for it, a lullabye.

 

The music started, the camera started, and Sam began. Fluidly, with a singularity and sweet strength that was as ancient as it was new to me, this boy began to sway and move. His arms moved in a way that was nothing less than poetic, lyrical, and in his arms he held the earth, and loved it, and balanced it, and sent it away. I could see him turn into this old old man, with long white beard, bald, long white back-of-the-head-hair, long fingernails, white diaper type thing, rocking on this leg, now, steadily, moving slowly and purposefully and joyfully, now that leg, now hold, now move, now release, now bless. This was an amazing event I was watching. If you've ever watched brilliant Kung Fu, or master Tai Chi, or just someone running light, you know what I am talking about. Such grace. He was ancient. He was blessing the earth, letting the earth bless him. It was intimate and it was universal. Toward the end, I just kept thinking, “My god, this kid is a magician,” over and over again.

 

Then he was done. He had felt his heart beat fast while doing it, he told me, and he said he was told, “Just go with it,” and he did, and he was fine. He looked exhilarated, altered, really relieved and proud and happy. And then, twelve year old that he is, he sat down and started playing Minecraft again. Business as usual.

 

But that night, right before he drifted off, I thanked him for that dance, and I told him, I kept thinking about this asian dude when you were dancing. He had … and I described it. Sam, just as matter of fact as anything, said, “Oh, yeah. That's who I used to be. He was like Jesus, but it was a really really long time ago.” And then he rolled over and, boom, he was out.

 

Until last week, I didn't know I was living with an ancient. Sure, I suspected it, but I didn't know it. Now, each of you, around this table, can be in any degree of shock, awe, surprise or fear you choose when thinking on this event, and then peeking at Sam at this table. Funny how each of us is a secret, even to ourselves, and every day the secret is just as content hiding in plain sight as it is being discovered. It doesn't have to move. We just have to notice it. It's true whether we call it truth or lie. It is there, whether we use it every day or never acknowledge its existence.

 

We, each of us, are giants at this table, doing our best to love ourselves and each other, managing our stupid amnesia as best we can, and now, today, giving over to a day of rest and east, eating and thanks.

 

So I thank each of you for what you have given me. I want you to know that I can see you now. I love you, always have, always will, but I appreciate you now. I recognize you and I am here, in this flesh, telling you with this tongue fed by this open heart, that I am forever grateful, forever thankful, for everything you have been, are, and ever will be to me.

 

Thank you for loving me so well, so long, and so much.