Tradition

This morning brought to mind a recent thoughtful conversation about how, as life changes around us, we learn to make our own, new traditions.

Today I am reminded of one of mine: Thanksgiving is a day to throw the feast of all feasts for my friends of the forest – the birds, the squirrels, whomever happens along. These furred and feathered friends don’t ask for anything. No expectations, no personal agendas. And being wise, they never trust too much – never get so close that they cannot fly or run to freedom should a threat reveal itself. They have seen what humans can do. But oh, the joy! when they find that momentary treasure. The unthinking, unnecessary gratitude. They are worthy – of course they will happen upon their own personal treasures.

This little guy was all ears and eyeballs, wondering from a distance what that crazy lad12250077_10207676113572084_7719169608446773400_ny was up to. An unusually accurate toss brought him not just a crumb, but a whole entire slice, and he’s still working on it, as his friends nibble first one bite and then another. Who says you need opposable thumbs?

Happy Thanksgiving, friends, however you observe it, and even if you don’t. In which case, I hope some crazy lady with a bag of breadcrumbs crosses your path today, to remind you that really, truly, the universe is full of surprises, just as much lightness as dark, and one can always, always, always find something to be grateful for.

Today, I am grateful for those who are willing to receive whatever we have to share with them. For friends in all shapes and sizes. For fresh, rain-filled air – “just right for good breathin'”… for the Ode to Eggnog that penned itself, the quart that carried it, and the gentle friend with incredibly artistic hands and mind and heart who appeared to make it possible – and then share it.

Namaste. And so it is.

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