Your Toast Will Be Out Soon
Inspiring Gratitude For A Life Of Abundance And Joy
They showed up, as predicted,
in the wee hours of the morning,
setting fire to the sky.
An opera of electric hues, all singing
their colors to the world. What a show-
with the Celestial Baritone sky,
slowly losing its battle to the
ornamental melody of the Tenor and Soprano.
Their vivid notes of crimson and gold so fierce,
it echoed over the mountains to the west.
And I, in my all my wonder,
could not understand how half the world
was still asleep, while the sky so exquisitely sang,
“Wake up!”
It’s funny how unexpected gifts come our way when we need it most.
I woke the morning after the US election feeling shocked, heartbroken, and despondent. The heaviness in my chest made me feel isolated and small. I sat at the breakfast table and cried, then put on a pot of coffee.
A thin veil of snow blanketed the world outside my window. I stared at it, begrudgingly, as the coffee maker popped and hissed. Winter is coming, and it’s not my favorite season.
My children, ages five and seven, bounded out of their bedrooms, shrieking with joy at their discovery of the glistening snow. “Mommy, can we go outside? Mommy, put my boots on!”
I smiled and felt my heart grow lighter. I noticed as my awareness, once contracted, expanded into the vast realm of connected consciousness.
This moment. Let this moment sink in. They won’t be little forever.
What is gratitude?
Is it the obligatory “Say thank you” we drill into our children when someone gives them a gift? Or is it something deeper?
Before trick-or-treating this past Halloween, I coached my children on what to say to each person when they opened their doors. For my little one, “Trick or treat” became “I want candy!” “Thank you” was sometimes offered, but more often it was delivered after prompting when they excitedly ran back to me, waving their prizes in the air. At one door, in a spectacularly decorated cul-de-sac, a little old lady answered the door and offered my children little bags of pretzels. My son gracefully accepted, but daughter simply replied, “I don’t want that,” and ran back to me.
I smiled and thanked the old lady, then knelt beside my daughter. I realized I had erred in explaining why we should say “thank you” to the givers of these gifts.
Pali is an ancient language rooted in Theravada Buddhism. The Pali word for gratitude is kataññutā, and roughly translates to: to have a sense of what was done.
We are not ungrateful people; we’ve just lost our sense of our connection to each other, to the universe. While our transition from a hunter-gatherer society to an industrialized one has allowed for economic growth, employment opportunities and more, it has also created a separation for us from all that sustains us. We’ve grown so disconnected with how our dinner made it to our plate, that we forget to thank the seeds, the soil, the sun and the rain. Our way back to gratitude, and to a more joyful way of living, lies in our ability to reconnect. To remember.
We can inspire this deep insight and connection by asking ourselves,
“What did it take for this moment to occur? What are all the causes and conditions that lead to this moment?”
I’ve noticed in my own life, when I am suffering, I am contracted. My awareness is limited, my attention is focused only on what hurts. Healing for me always arises out of a widening circle of awareness. We don’t need to be told to feel grateful. Gratitude naturally arises where the awareness of all that sustains us is cultivated.
My son always has surprises in store for the family during Thanksgiving dinner. Last year, my partner and I encouraged him to “give the toast.” “What does that mean?” He asked. “Just thank everyone for coming, you know? Give the toast,” we (again) insufficiently explained.
Jack stood at the head of the long dinner table, all eyes on him, as he raised his glass. “Hello everyone,” he said, “Thank you all for coming to Thanksgiving dinner. I’m so glad you’re here. Your toast will be out soon.” The entire room filled with delighted laughter at his sweet misunderstanding and sincerity.
This year, he wanted to give the toast again. He raised his glass and said, “Here’s the toast!” The ruckus of song and dance that ensued, choreographed by Jack and his cousin, surely was previously planned.
The humor in his toasts will likely never cease to exist.
Once the laughter stopped and the children quieted, I asked him if he wanted to lead the gratitude practice for the family. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he recalled what I was referring to.
“Okay everyone,” he began again, “Let’s think about something we all have, like a pillow.” Everyone stared in earnest as he continued, “What are all the things it took for that pillow to get to your bed?”
The family came alive with contemplation and curiosity as we explored everything it took to get our pillows to us.
The sun. Seeds and soil. The rain. A farmer. A fabric weaver. A truck driver. A store clerk.
How lucky we are, to have such a thing?
Where gratitude is cultivated, joy naturally grows. Gratitude leads to joy. It’s not the other way around.
Yes, there is pain and suffering in life- an oppressive political system and sugarless Halloween treats. But there is also joy. There is hot coffee, fresh snow to play in, fluffy pillows, and operatic sunsets.
All we need to do to then, is to remember to look.
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I offer a short, three session course on Gratitude through Insight Timer Plus (their paid subscription service) and for purchase through my website.