Sometimes in fairy tales and in life, people are saved by a community. Snow White was taken in by a band of dwarves and in return brought order to their little household. Cinderella got some goodies from her fairy godmother but she couldn’t have made her appearance without a team of mice disguised as horses to pull her pumpkin carriage. In real life, neighbors pull together to help neighbors in distress; friends meet over coffee to provide a comforting space and a welcoming shoulder.
As Thanksgiving rolls around, most people will give traditional thanks for what they have been given and, in accordance with their spiritual beliefs, many will direct their thanks toward a Supreme Being and perhaps a few close members of the family. The chant that precedes a meal in Zen monasteries takes this idea a little more broadly: “This food is the labor of countless beings, let us remember their toil…” . The participants consider no only the food in front of them but the meal that is cooked up moment by moment as their lives.
This year, I give thanks to the long chain of beings (human and otherwise) whose labors sustain my life. This list is long (and won’t be presented here in full) but can certainly include thanks to all those whose labors plant, tend, harvest and transport the vegetables, fruits, grains, meats on the table, and to those who created the plates and utensils on which the food has been served and eaten; to those whose work in the electric plants bring the power to cook the food and the lights over the table and the heat in the room. That’s just the meal in front of me.
In this meal that is my life, cooking at every turn, I offer thanks to my clients who trust and share their lives and provide not only remuneration but a sense of usefulness; to the tech guys who always cut through the mysteries of the computer to keep me working and on-line; to colleagues and friends who provide advice, guidance, endless lessons as I continue to learn my way through this world of self-employment. Thanks to my parents, who brought me into life, to my teachers- every person I encounter whose ideas challenge, stretch and grow mine, to strangers who offer a smile for no reason and the countless others whose inhalation and exhalation I share with each breath of my own.
The meal we cook together is vast and intricate, a dance of giving and receiving. Offering genuine gratitude is like casting a handful of pebbles into a pond. It ripples out and, coming to the shore, returns to the center. This Thanksgiving, let’s collectively make waves.
