Attitude, determination and gratitude

the Kryptonite we need

As so often happens, a lyric passing through my earphones while I’m writing captures my attention, demanding that I share the music with you. I haven’t done this in some time. I’ve missed the music. I’ll be quoting the lyrics making their way to my heart from Ordinary Elephant’s “I come from” throughout my post. And I will share the link to the song at the end of the post.

I won’t lie, the last few weeks had its ups and downs. Of course, I’ll share both the highs and lows.

Hands down, the highlight of my week was meeting my Substack buddy

Paulette Bodeman

in person for the first time, along with her husband, Steve. I met Paulette early in the day for coffee, followed by a hike. I kid you not, we hugged as we met in the parking lot of a local bakery, began talking, had to stop talking long enough to put our pastry/coffee order in, and didn’t let up until we parted ways. I felt like I’d reunited with an old friend.

Still talking into the night. We didn't plan the matching outfits. :)

Later that day Paulette and Steve joined Rick and I for dinner at the house. Steve was as gracious and kind as Paulette. As the evening came to a close, I lifted my heart to the heavens in gratitude for the day, for the years that show on my hands, and for all the privileges and gifts I’ve known.

Eggshell white
Paint in your hair
Dirt beneath your nails
Years on the back of your hands

Some things can wash clean
And some, will stick around

Kazuo Yamada invented the game Whack-a-mole¹ in 1975. Some say the game was developed to help children with hand-eye coordination. Regardless of its origins, it certainly became a well-loved pastime for many children and adults as well.

You must know where I’m headed. I feel a bit like that mole these last few weeks, doing my best to stay out of harm’s way, but of course, popping my head out now and again to try to make sense of what’s happening in the world. 

Whack, whack, whack!!! That hammer has been relentless. 

I come from hard work
I come from never giving up
I come from you

I built cities from sidewalk chalk
Sailed the world in a cardboard boat
I hope I always dream that big

When I came down with the flu last week, I took advantage of a much-needed respite. Downtime. No computer. No TV, except a beautiful documentary about Big Cats on PBS documentaries. (I learned a lot from those cats.) Books. Rest. Sleep. Water. Throat lozenges. Repeat. For five days.

On day one, I began reading The Salt Path by Raynor Winn, a book I purchased years ago but hadn’t managed to open. This book, “The true story of a couple who lost everything and embarked on a transformative journey walking the south west coast path in England,” has been sitting on my shelf, waiting for the right moment to be read. The time had arrived.

I put the whole damn kitchen
In every pot of cold mud soup
I hope I always put everything I got
Into what I do

Some things can wash clean
And some, will stick around

Raynor’s writing is hypnotic, luring the reader in with her beautiful prose, written a bit in the Alfred Hitchcock tradition, allowing the reader to easily imagine themselves in the horrific story. Raynor and her husband Moth’s experiences were nothing short of harrowing, and it was a challenge to read about them. It would have been much more comfortable to process if I could have easily been able to list all the reasons I never could have found myself in their dire straits. 

But, had I been able to, I would have missed the heart of this story. It is the fact that we are all vulnerable in life, at the mercy of much that we have no control over, and that in the end is what creates a true sense of connection.

Every chamber of my heart, bears the mark
Of what I come from
Sometimes our world falls apart
But I guess that's what it takes
To find the part that cannot break

Day 4 of the flu began as the worst day of the illness; I woke up with a fever, my body aching. After reading about months and months of Raynor and Moth sleeping in inadequate sleeping bags dealing with harsh elements, I found a new perspective on my own situation. Instead of concentrating on how awful I felt, I sank deep into my covers of flannel and down and reminded myself how lucky I was to be in my own comfy bed, two Advil and a glass of water away from feeling better, all blessings that a week earlier I might have overlooked.

Wooden table on a concrete slab
The fish were red and the crabs were blue
Every five gallon bucket
Carries a piece of you

Some things can wash clean
And some, will stick around

Three words marched through my thoughts like an Easter Day parade… attitude, determination, and gratitude— such a simple yet powerful recipe for overcoming adversity— gratitude, in particular, the potent force that has the ability to transform even the most challenging situations into opportunities for growth. 

The words have remained with me ever since. Although I will admit, the day before yesterday, my head hurt from too many whacks. But I’m back again today and discovering slowly how to make an appearance in the world and cover quickly enough to avoid the whack. It’s all in understanding how hand-eye coordination works to prevent the whack, wink.

Every chamber of my heart, bears the mark
Of what I come from
Sometimes our world falls apart
But I guess that's what it takes
To find the part that cannot break
We cannot break

1. I was 20 years old when the game Whack-a-mole was created. While I’m sure I was aware of the game, it was my editor Dennis Tuttle working on Lessons of a Wayward Yogini, who reminded me of the game throughout our editing process.