Gratitude

Posted on by sereichert

I’ve been going through a few books on stress lately, some helpful apps about dealing with emotions (sans alcohol) and how to find more balance in a busy world. The common theme of late has been about finding and fostering Gratitude.

Before I go further, I don’t want you to think this is some kind of toxic positivity post wherein I’m going to urge you to stop complaining and be thankful it’s not worse, or preach to you that you shouldn’t feel the feels because you’re lucky to be alive. That’s simply bullshit. We are allowed to complain, and rage against the slings and arrows of life. In fact, a little complaining can help let off the steam on our pressure-cooker lives. We will have feelings and reactions and normal stress responses to things that upend our lives. I don’t believe in denying the pain and the struggle of our existence. I do believe that we can chose where we focus our attention, and learn to accept certain undeniable truths.

Everything will change, nothing is permanent, and pain is inevitable. We know we’ll have to live through some shit. Hard shit, unfair shit, tragic shit…all of the shit. That race track is just life, but how we manage our emotional state, our place in the world, and our response to all the shit, determines if we grow and survive or shrink and die. It also determines how much we’ll enjoy the ride.

Enter Gratitude. Yeah, I keep capitalizing it. Because I picture it as sort of a superhuman in our origin story. But Gratitude doesn’t have to be a big and imposing guy in tights, it can be a million tiny little fireflies peppered throughout our day, our weeks, our moments, that help to lighten the dark of existence. It isn’t very complicated and anyone can start a practice of gratitude.

Today, either in the morning when you wake, at night before bed, (or both if you’re feeling extra thankful) take a moment to write down three things that you’re grateful for. Then write down why they impact your life. It can be something as simple as “I woke up this morning and now I get to hug my kids” or “I have a job, that keeps food on the table” or “The sun is shining and its lighting the trees up like a painting” or “I had running water today, and a roof over my head. I’m safe and so is my family”. Some of these seem like no-brainers right? Except there are some that don’t have those things and we could be them just as easily with the flick of a bad weather pattern, a bad political coup, or the cogs of corporate greed. And it feels stupid and silly to be thankful for the sunshine when your battling cancer. It seems naive and idiotic to be grateful for that first, warm cup of coffee, when you’re behind on twenty different deadlines. It doesn’t seem like it matters to notice the good, small things. I know that. I’ve often thought it myself when I first started.

But once you start to look for the things that are good in your life, even the littlest, it’s like going hunting for fireflies. You’ll start to see them everywhere. And the more reasons you see to be thankful and grateful in life, the more light your world will become. We, in essence, can create our own reality by choosing to focus on the beautiful, strange, and charming of our lives. So… Do yourself and everyone who loves you a favor and go write down what you’re thankful for. I’ve found that it helps start my day off in a different mindset, and it actually helps me ease into sleep a little better. (That old “Count Your Blessings instead of Sheep” song from White Christmas has some clout)

I’ll start:

  1. I’m thankful for my children who teach me about myself and how to be a better person. I’m grateful that they are healthy and strong, and think for themselves
  2. I’m thankful for a warm bed, even though I wish I could spend more time in it, I’m glad to have it at the end of every day.
  3. I’m thankful for fall weather, the colors of the leaves and being able to see the painting they make everyday outside my window. Because it reminds me that nature is always in play, and her grand design is a comfort.

The Tumultuous Writer’s Mind

Posted on by sereichert

I’ve struggled with a post this week. Either to launch into some deft and cuttingly beautiful poetry, or as Melanie Griffith once said in “Working Girl” to hit you with my smarts. I don’t have a lot of poetry or smarts today. Sorry.

Life has been chocked full of events. Some of them are little, and benign. Some of them seem like…not a big deal, but they rift something deep within the surface and you end up spending the week dealing with the ripples that have become tsunamis. Part drowning, part relishing the destruction of old temples and ideals that held you for far too long in subjecation. In any case…you start to question, where you’re at. What you’re doing? Are you living well? Are you loving well? Are you taking all the advantage of this one wild life? Or are you… stagnant? Have you slept too long in comfort and stopped fighting for something…far greater? Have you given up truth and freedom for discomfort for blissful ignorance?

And why not? Out of fear? Out of habit? Out of…this is how it’s always been and why should I wish more for myself?

It’s hard. As humans. As writers. To trust our own individual worth. Our creativity. What we offer the world. Why does it even matter in dark and vast sea of a million different voices?

Especially when cookie cutter, and formulamatic fiction seems to be the thing that draws in the most eyes… Well…shit I don’t know. There’s very little money in truth. There’s very little fame or fortune in telling the general masses something interesting and thought provoking and…god help us…challenging to their idiom. Please, as the Briar Rabbit once cried, don’t throw me into the thorn bush…Please don’t make me…think…

Is there room for the artist in this world? Is there room for the intellectual? The person disconnected from the constant spin and pizzaz of what constitutes journalism and entertainment (trick question, there’s no difference between the two now) these days. Is there room in the world for the person who chooses to turn of their screens and the voices and the barrage of constant, dumbing down information to sit still…and think… and write? About an original idea, about the absolute absurdity of life? To write something that makes us think? When was the last time you read such a thing? Such a strange soul-stirring thing? When was the last time you sat in silence, and contemplated the idea that in your not-so-distant-past, your brain kept you alive in a world full of real dangers and still managed to tell a decent story. That you were designed…for far better things. Not monetary, not status related. But…soul worth…When did you last wonder if all of this noisy bullshit was beneath you? Because I’m pretty sure it is.

I am weary of this world. It holds so little that matters. It has become so much neon pink and drowning narcissism.

I don’t have a blog for you.

I’m too busy thinking. On my own. Observing, with eyes, not videos. Listening to all perspectives, shouting to be heard… And even if I had something worthwhile to tell you, about you, your existence, about the white washed reality you’ve been fed, all the anxieties they’ve readily given you to keep you engaged on numbing little pills, I’m not sure anybody is ready to listen.

Poetry 8-10-2023

Posted on by sereichert

Good morning all.

I took a little break from the interconnected world of social media this week, but despite that little vacay, I’m still not feeling up to par. At first I thought I was approaching burnout. That I needed a reset. But the truth is, after self-reflecting…I’m past the point. So far past, that I’ve built up a whole township on the far end of it. I think for the last year I’ve been operating in the midst of burnout…just digging myself deeper into a hole of meeting demands I had no energy for. And now, I’m, smack dab in the middle of my own little cavernous oubliette.

I don’t have sunlight, or stars to navigate by, and the walls are much too steep and slick to entertain hopes of climbing out. So…I’m going to sit here, in the dark for awhile. Contemplate my purpose. My next move, if any.

Here’s a poem I wrote months ago. Seemed appropriate on a day such as this. A week. A month.

Last Day

If this is the last of my days
will I have done enough?
loved enough?
Fought enough?
   smiled
    and danced
      and kissed enough?

Did I hold their hands long enough?
   Did I forgive?

Did I let go so much
   of this useless weight?
      to travel light into the next world?

What are the chains I regret most?

The lack of wonder in my eyes
   a boredom with the world
      a seeing through of everyone's angles?
  
Or is it the rusted and heavy links
 cutting in tetanus scrapes 
   boring out the sinking pit
      dark nemesis, regret?

That I was unkind
   to myself.
That I gave away heartbeats
    to the undeserving?

That I don't remember 
the last time 
   I told you
      that I loved you?

If this is the last of my days
   will I have done enough?
      Loved enough?
        Fought enough?

For them?
For myself?