It’s a good morning to be grateful.
Even for the sadness and disappointments.
First, I’m enormously grateful to know know know that feelings are just that, feelings, and not truths. And that they will pass. And (now here’s the big transformational magic part) that I have the power of choice! This is the concept that opens the door to liberation. When I find myself, as I did last night, feeling powerful PPD (post-pilgrimage depression)—once I realized what was running around in my head causing my malaise—I was then empowered to choose. The progress-not-perfection part: Sometimes I can’t/won’t make that choice right in the moment of awareness. Sometimes I seem to have a (self-sabotaging) need to wallow. Yum, wallowing in negative thoughts, in the hell of my own devising.
The good news: I can’t hang out there too long any more.
I can’t bear it. So here I am this morning, having posted on Facebook about the PPD, having gotten two loving comments back (one gently yet firmly advising me to get busy in my own backyard; thank you Michelle!). I’m up, the bed is made, morning practice is complete, I’m showered and dressed, and am happily gratefully present in my day right here in sunny Oakland. I’m wearing my marinière today, bought at the Marché des Paysans (farmer’s market) in L’Isle sur la Sorgue two Sundays ago. I am going to make an omelette aux fines herbes (herbes de Provence, bought in Provence) for my breakfast. I’m nearly unpacked. Three of the four boxes of stuff I mailed home have arrived. The last is taking a boat, should be here by the end of the month—perfect timing as it contains my Irish wellies (rainboots). I have so much for which to be grateful. I see, hear, smell, taste blessings all around me. I am a grateful woman.