Category: Words

Wandering around NW Portland, I see a lot of urban trees. They get planted in small little squares like they’re only ever going to grow so big.

When they start out, in the words of Bob Ross, they’re happy little trees. Happy little trees that people tend to scatter around wherever they want, without considering that in 10-20-40 years they are quite possibly going to be sidewalk-eating giants.

So then what happens? Eventually, if the tree was not selected and planted carefully, it outgrows the allotted space. It breaks apart the concrete around it and ruins the sidewalk, or it’s roots get all bound up and pinched trying to stay within the concrete boundary. Either the tree breaks what’s around it or the tree itself starts to break.

At the very least, they look uncomfortable:

Some kinds of trees flourish in a constrained space. They don’t want to spread out. Others need more room to grow. Maybe their roots are larger. Maybe they need more enrichment than the assigned space contains.

You know where I’m going with this–I’m going back to people. People do the same thing as trees planted in a concrete cage. We need a certain amount of space, a certain amount of freedom, a certain amount of physical and mental nourishment. If we don’t get it, sometimes we break things around us like a tree cracks apart a sidewalk. Aggression, assault, robbery. Sometimes we turn against ourselves, like the tree in the box with it’s roots all scrunched in, gradually dying. Eating disorders, heart attacks, stress.

For some of us, small towns mean small minds and small opportunities. For others, they mean the comfort of family and friends. Is it restrictive or comforting? It depends on who you are. It depends on the people around you. It depends on the place.

Sometimes other people put us in boxes. Boss teacher mother sister friend lover. Sometimes we put ourselves in them. Responsible lazy smart funny.
Are any of the boxes useful? Do they make us feel safe at the cost of growth, or do they give us some structure to work with?

How do you know the difference between a comfortable box, and a box you are hiding in? How do you know when your box has gotten too small and needs to be smashed? How do you know when you’re asking too many questions?

I dunno. I’m just a chick with a blog. I make stuff up, and I write it down.

The moment I let go of it was the moment
I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it
Was the moment I touched down
–Alanis Morissette/Thank You

Recently while I was folding laundry, I listed to a Ted talk by Brother David Steindl-Rast. He was talking about the benefits of being grateful. I stopped folding laundry and started paying attention.

His theory is that it’s not being happy that makes you grateful, it’s the other way around: being grateful makes you happy. Every moment is a chance to be grateful for something, and there are thousands of moments each day in which to practice. It will make the world a better place by making us react from a sense of plenty rather than scarcity. Scarcity makes us fearful and then we react with violence.

That might be stretching things a bit, but I agree there is a lot to be said for slowing down and noticing all of those small things that make life worth living.

You can’t be grateful every moment, but if you pay attention, I bet you can be grateful for a lot more moments than you normally are. Especially if thankfulness makes you happier. It’s a lot easier to do things if they have a selfish benefit, don’t you think?

In our part of the world, when you open a spigot, water comes out of it. Every time. Hot or cold. I love water–hot or cold. Water on demand? You can be grateful for it many times a day. You can be grateful for the way it tastes when you’re thirsty. You can be grateful for that hot shower.

Brother David put stickers on the light switches at the monastery so he’d always remember to be grateful for the every day miracle of light. You might not want to do that, but you can notice it and be thankful it’s there. I love to light candles, and the warm glow as I light them always makes me happy. So, thanks for that.

In my very cushy, very soft, very easy life I have more “things” than I know what to do with. There are a lot of people who love me and who I love back. There is a lot of luxury in my life. There’s a nice warm bed. Heat. I don’t have a lot to be upset about in life, and yet somehow I still manage it. There’s a lot of physical plenty, but somehow in spite of an abundance of love I still manage to feel emotionally bereft much of the time. My reactions to people are…excessive…in both good and bad ways. I imagine all sorts of horrible things that people might think or not think because of something I’ve said or not said or said badly. Less and less, but still. Still.

If I spent more time thinking of things that I can be grateful for, perhaps that would leave less time for my brain to borrow trouble. Or would having a mind that’s more still make me think less overall. Bah. No, it wouldn’t. I know this.

I am very thankful for everything, but just maybe I can be more thankful of the smaller things that I run into several times a day. Even if it doesn’t have an immediate benefit to me.

It couldn’t hurt.

After that, I can tackle kindness. That’ll be fun.

I’ll start with these few things…
The way coffee smells
Having food in the pantry
Blue skies in the Winter
Mud puddles reflecting the sun
Trees starting to bloom
Family
Co-workers
A job
Boozes
Tattoos and the friends who go and get them with you
Music and the friends who sing along