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"Gratitude builds a bridge to abundance."
Roy Bennett - 5 minutes, free flow writing, Thanksgiving morning. Actually, the timer broke - well, human breaking as I neglected to click start so it is slightly longer than 5 minutes at work. #####
I woke up snuggled under a comforter, close to love.
Abundance is skin touching skin, sole of the foot reaching out to a familiar calf muscle or pinky toe, knowing it is there and glad for that knowledge.
Abundance is the blank page, waiting for words to meet it.
Words of praise, words of anger, words of thundering tempestuousness, doesn’t matter. The page is grateful for being used for it’s distinctive purpose. I don’t see pages thrown into the trash with the panache of the past, the days of typewriters.
Abundance is typewriters, still being used, keys like a motorboat, between twenty six curvaceous letters.
I typed with too much force as a child so my dad bought me my own computer. I still own it, though it lives on a shelf in the garage. I need to bring her back into the house – bought on her late 1970’s version of Craig’s List. The classified ads of the Newark Star Ledger, I believe.
Abundance in the classified ads, which people don’t use as much as Craigs list anymore or the ubiquitous facebook marketplace where I may find nearly anything any time of day or for some, ebay lust.
I wonder how these five minutes can not be over, I feel like I have been writing this for a long, long time.
Writing abundance is easily filling the page.
Looking up and out and smiling, still. Flavorful words. Crunchy some melting, some too hot to touch. Some we close our notebooks on before they have their due (and we pray they come alive again later, somewhere deep inside ourselves we pray for courage.
Sometimes the timer breaks.
I remember last Thanksgiving. Views, gorgeous. Cold, orange towels from Ikea which became my new measure against which all towels would be held. Photos on a falling apart swing set. Hidden entryways. Emma announcing we needed to walk to the lake and watch the sunset, Samuel grabbing attention, wanting his photo taken on one of the many decks on the seemingly unassuming house which I completely fell in love with, completely. Oh, how it woo’ed me and I woo’ed it back and am woo’ing it back now.
Pacific Ocean thanksgivings. Kern River thanksgivings. Thanksgivings I pretended weren’t thanksgiving. Letting go, my girls growing up Thanksgivings. My last Thanksgiving without a son-in-law.
Inner city Los Angeles Thanksgiving, my first turkey, twenty-one people including two newly graduated college friends like me – all stuffed into my small one bedroom apartment. Loved every moment. One of my favorites. Thanksgiving right after Marlena died, another full house, Darcy that year.
The reset timer hasn’t gone off.
Writing abundance gives us the chance to re-live memories. Spit polish them, hear the refrain with a jaunty lilt we don’t really think existed but it makes us feel better to claim it now. We forgive our frowns of the past that weren’t completely aligned.
Writing abundance claims optimism in a gulp of coffee.
The timer rings right then. The perfect time.
Writing abundance and gratitude – a bridge to infinite expansion.