Flooded with inspiration plus an award for my book.
Calling All Noahs.
Four inches of rain flooded the lower level of our townhome in Missouri. My husband and I were in Grandkid Land in Arizona, blissfully unaware of the deluge of multiple days of rain in our St. Louis neighborhood. Even if we’d known, we would have shrugged. Not one, but two sump pumps (a big one plus back-up) confidently crouch in corners of our basement.
So prepared!
But both pumps failed.
When our townhouse neighbor noticed our downspouts were strangely water-less, he called. After a bit more investigation, my husband caught a plane and splashed into the soggy finished basement the next day. Cleanup and repair work is now underway, but still, when I walked in the door of our St Louis home last week, I slapped my hand to my nose. Heavy musty odor hit me in the face.
It got my attention.
And darn it, if that darned lower level didn’t reflect my state of mind. Both the stuffy air and I need a clean-up.
Maybe you can relate? Here’s what has me clogged:
Gunk like fear of failure. It’s estimated 2.7 million books were published last year. As quoted in the Nov 24 blog of Brooke Warner, “that translates into 7,400 releases every day, 308 per hour, 5 every minute.” Reading those stats, I slumped. You gotta be kidding me. I thought, “here’s no way I can scramble hard enough or long enough for people to discover my book when it publishes next spring.”
Mucked up anxiety. Difficult dialogue with people on the opposite side of the political spectrum just got harder. Thanksgiving dinner conversations loom on the horizon. Anger swirls in my thought like a wild hamster wheel going absolutely nowhere because it wars with my native empathy. Behind it all: fear of rupturing relationships I treasure.
And the sludge of Why-Can’t-I-Have-Nice-Things. The disheveled basement includes my author haven/office. All disrupted now with precious talismans dumped next to electric cords and stacks of soggy books I’ve since had to throw out. Now that is one inundation of sadness.
Noah, I need an ark!
Go Play.
Behind this gloominess I know that I’ve actually been fighting for a new vantage point. What’s the point of all of us going through seismic social disruption if we don’t rally to this moment?
I’ve written about hope in the past—and I do feel hopeful—for I have evidence that many wonderful people are working together in publishing, among family and friends, in the social justice sphere, and even our flood cleanup crew, and yet. . . and yet . . lately I’ve been subsumed and unable to feel hope.
That energetic lightness of being.
Playfulness.
Gratitude.
And there, right there, I catch a glimpse of something familiar.
Let Me Count You, Blessings.
Harvard Medical School published a 2021 article on the health benefits of giving thanks.
The article states: “Gratitude is a way for people to appreciate what they have, instead of always reaching for something new in the hope it will make them happier, or thinking they can't feel satisfied until every physical and material need is met. Gratitude helps people refocus on what they have instead of what they lack. And, although it may feel contrived at first, this mental state grows stronger with use and practice.”
The article goes on to list ways to cultivate gratitude. Writing thank-you notes. Keeping a gratitude journal. Prayer. And here’s an intriguing method: Thanking a person mentally.
Here goes my mental list:
I am grateful our neighbor noticed the downspouts and called us (here’s lookin’ at you, Dave!)
I am grateful we have airline miles and American Airlines had a seat for my husband to grab an early flight.
I am grateful for an efficient basement clean up crew.
I am getting warmed up on this gratitude thing. Here’s more:
I am grateful that you are taking time to read this essay. You have so many things to do and see and be! Yet, Here.You.Are. And look at you tolerating my overused flood metaphor!
I am grateful for a nurturing, celebratory network of sister authors. Together, we cheer for each other’s successes in a stunning renunciation of zero-sum doctrine. The rising tide lifts all boats! You give me resilience.
I am grateful for the spiritual seekers in my life who nurture a non-religious, non-judgmental kickbutt, tender spirituality of acceptance. You allow space for me to be vulnerable and dig deeper.
I am grateful for dear friends, near and far, familiar and new, look at you! Yes, I’m lookin’ at you! Beautiful faces! Just the thought of you and the gift you are in my life brings me joy.
I am grateful for a miraculous universe that playfully brings me exactly what I need when I need it in perfect order. And when I’m not paying attention, She brings it again. And again. She inspires me to be reciprocal.
Yes, family and my exemplary partner belong on this public list of thanks. We are connected. Even when you drive me (or I drive you) crazy. All of you. Each of you. Bless you.
I feel the flood receding; I am lifted up.
May you fill your heart with gratitude too. Try it.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends,
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