From the moment I witnessed a bird get hit by a car on January first, 2023 has been pretty consistent in providing me with opportunities to dig hard for my gratitude. As many in this economy, I’ve been hustling extra trying to make ends meet. My partner and I, after managing to evade it for three years, got COVID. As I began to recover from the COVID (surprisingly more difficult than I expected it would be, with how much vaccination I received…) I threw my back out and couldn’t get a night’s sleep for about a week. California has been literally under water in all its forms, this allergy season is off the charts…I’ve been fighting fatigue, feeling super down and out, and have been stuffing my feelings with Cadbury mini eggs.
And yet. Every morning, I am grateful to wake up no matter how hard it is to get out of bed. Every morning, that first cup of coffee is like nothing I’ve ever tasted (elixir of gods!), every morning, that hot shower is the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt on my skin. And when I exercise, I can hold that plank longer every time. Despite how I feel, I’m getting stronger. And, I have Cadbury mini eggs.
The gratitude I feel for these things isn’t pat, or automatic, or pretend. But it is intentional, and it is a practice. I don’t wake up and automatically feel woo-woo gratitude for these things seeping out my bones. Every day, as I swing my legs from under the blankets and sip that coffee, and tremble through that minute-long plank, I remind myself how much these small things mean to me, and make a difference in my whole experience of the day. I literally say, to myself—and often to the shower water falling—“thank you. You’re gonna be ok.” And I am. The gratitude I feel right now, makes me be ok in the future.
Recently, I had a conversation over dinner with someone who is working on a novel. They mentioned feeling like spending time on it was somehow not useful; that the hours and hours of attention and focus they gave it was somehow not valuable. I asked about these feelings. Basically, it came down to the fact that there is a high likelihood the novel will never be published, or reach a wide audience. And so what is the purpose of writing a novel if no one is ever going to read it?
I have had this thought myself, so many times over the last 30 years of my life. It’s a why bother thought. Like, why am I bothering to do this, what’s the point?! I had that thought a lot…until I heard Li Young Lee speak once at the Community of Writers Conference (you were wondering how I was going to hook in National Poetry Month, weren’t you?).
Li Young Lee is an incredible poet, and a completely crush-worthy human. I don’t know many people who have listened to him speak and didn’t come away from it totally crushed out on him. And the reason, I think, is because he somehow manages to be both of this world, and otherworldly. His poetry is focused in the every day moments, and yet somehow, those very same moments are universal—not as in, they speak to universal themes—but, as in they are in conversation with the universe. And the thing I heard him say, this one day at this writers’ conference, that changed everything about how I felt about writing and possibly life in general, was this (paraphrased, of course): poetry changes the world. The minute you write something, the world has changed, because something that was not there previously, is now there. So, it doesn’t matter if no one is around to read it, the world is still changed because you brought it into existence.
This may sound purely metaphysical, until you think about the way a line, or a thought, or an insight changes you once you have it. Even if you never utter it to another human—even if you write it in a journal hidden under a mattress, or just roll it around in your thoughts. It changes you. You are changed. Something that was previously unknown to you is now known to you and it influences all future thoughts, words and deeds. Maybe the change is miniscule. Maybe it’s imperceptible to you. But it’s there. And if you believe, like I do, that everything in the universe is infinite and connected, then the whole shebang is changed, too.
This isn’t a cop out, as in, think happy thoughts and the whole world becomes happy. Or think happy thoughts and I’ve done enough to fight the injustices of the world. This isn’t The Secret. Not at all. Instead, I think of it as a starting point.
Once, a long time ago, I was interviewing for a fellowship position at a foundation (you were wondering how I was going to hook in philanthropy, weren’t you?). As part of the application process, I had to provide a writing sample. I shared a piece I wrote in 2011 about the role philanthropy could play in the Occupy movement (remember that!?). The person interviewing me had read it, and told me that the piece was quite radical. Being who I am, and coming from where I come, I couldn’t hide my surprise: a foundation giving its money away was…radical? Needless to say I did not get the position.
The thing is, I was naive, and that interviewer had been around the block a few times. What I have learned since, is that where philanthropy meets its greatest challenge is at the intersection of 1) knowing that the system needs to be dismantled in order for the world to be better for all, and 2) knowing that, as a foundation, you are a central part of that system (INCITE! The Revolution Will Not Be Funded: Beyond the Non-profit Industrial Complex; Preface by Andrea Smith).
The non profit industrial complex resists its own dismantling, of course! And those of us who work in philanthropy wonder, what’s the point in the work we do if nothing ever changes? But I don’t accept this premise. What we do, and think, and say, and believe every day creates a future. Love now creates a future filled with love. Care now creates a future filled with care. Giving now creates a future filled with giving.
The same is true on the flip—if we say, we must conserve, preserve, and protect our assets and attitudes and economies and selves, because we don’t know what the future holds—we are in fact making certain what the future will hold: a world of assets, attitudes, economies, and selves that are the same inequitable, unjust, mean and isolated ones we have now. What we tend to now, creates the future.
So as you work your job, or create your art, or drive your car, or give all your money away (or not), know that you are creating a future: either the very same one we have now, all over again—or a different one that is beyond our wildest dreams.
—MBF
Once again your compassion and wisdom move me forward.
Thank you, my beautiful friend. I needed to hear this today. And because you put it out there, I -- and the world -- am now changed.