Sometimes an attitude of scarcity can be mistaken for gratitude. Sometimes appreciation can be twisted into unhealthy denial. Sometimes mindfulness can slip slide into attachment. Its so easy for even the most virtuous attributes to become a hinderance in our silly human hearts. An experiment: instead of surprise and disbelief, greet your blessings as old friends returning. Exude confidence and trust that there is always more to be had and enough to go around. This adjustment puts us on a receiving frequency. In the name of gratitude and appreciation we can cling too tightly and strangle our good fortune. “I am so thankful for this thing. I am going to appreciate the shit out of this thing because I will never get this thing again, I will never feel this good again, this thing will never happen this way again…”. We envision doom instead of glory. Blessings are meant to be received, not worshiped. We don’t have to prostrate ourselves. If anything, gratitude should be an activating event, not a passive one. Gratitude should elevate us, not suppress us.

If we stand confidently in *what is* and not treat it as a solitary, mysterious gift, we embolden ourselves and enable others by taking ownership of everything that brought us to this moment of celebration. We have equanimity, for it will surely happen again. Notice that we have no problem believing struggle will happen again. Choosing scarcity begets more scarcity. Choose abundance instead. It feels scary to not cling when one is used to clinging. Like if you don’t hold on, something will be lost but no. Its just received more deeply. Instead of melting in your sweaty grasping mits, it is generously inhaled and infuses your sinuses. That heady feeling? That sweet rise and expansion? That full, softness in your vision? THATS where its at.

I absolutely see the beauty in appreciating every little moment and every little gift. This is a strength of mine. But it is also my vulnerability because I’m always a hair away from the process going awry. I am a believer and I am a collector. There is nothing more gratifying that extracting my little jewels and examining them, holding them dear and decorating my existence with them. This informs my everything, my daily survival, my creative output. This is strong medicine and it needs frequent monitoring and adjustment.

Last week my son came trudging down the sidewalk to meet me after school. He has a smile he can’t hide and a busy mind bursting. He carries a bucket and his jeans are soaked to his knees. His teacher winks at me. Science class was spent wading in a nearby inlet catching crawfish with another student for the classroom aquarium. I am so happy for him that I am seeing stars. Yet as quickly as I soar, I am held back by fear and insecurity. That this is a fluke. I feel my claws slowly sink in. Hold on. Hold on. I say awkwardly, “Wow, this boy must really like you to work together all class period!”. And without skipping a beat my son says, “Yes. But everyone here likes me. Because everyone at this school is incredibly nice.”. He is confident. He trusts. Even though he has had to work so hard and has had so many harrowing experiences, he receives this abundance with grace. My compliment or reassurance that he is likable is not needed. He is a fine man who believes in his own deservingness and in the essential goodness of others. He is not a beggar.

I want to carry myself with mindfulness untinged with desperation. I want to inhale appreciation through my nose and exhale goodwill out my mouth with no obstructions or detours. I want to nest my gratitude in the downy, voluptuousness of abundance rather than the cold confines of scarcity.