marc pietrzykowski > Gratitude
Things I am grateful for, journaled.
2.10.2021 Today is the kind of cold that shocks the skin, makes everything tingle when stepping inside. Chickadees shiver all winter in an attempt to keep warm–I’m sure other birds do, too, but chickadees are the ones I have read about–a fact that makes me even more relieved when I am able to step from freeze to warmth, and pull off layers of clothing as my body heats up. It feels like singing.
2/1/2021 I love all manner of food, making it as well as eating it, and I include drink in this category (oh my this stuff is delicious), but nothing points me in the direction of nirvana quite like a cold glass of water when I am thirsty. It’s a cthonic, primal surge that I feel, surely somehow connected to a pre-evolutionary instinct. I once saw an Eritrean guy I worked with drink from a water jug by pouring it into his mouth without letting it quite touch his lips, and I gave it a try, and now I do that to amplify the joy, removing the last barrier between mouth and sweet, cold water.
1/30/2021 I walked to the little neighborhood grocery, bought frozen ravioli, a wedge of Asiago cheese, and a red pepper, then walked home. It is cold outside, and I was well wrapped, so I was nearly sweating when I got home. That I can do these things–buy pretty good ravioli without having to make them from scratch, let alone grow, cut, and mill the wheat and make flour, for example–is astonishing. I could choose to make them from scratch, I could choose to grow and mill wheat, but I have the choice, and now that I am home, on a Saturday afternoon, I have my choice of hundreds, even thousands of years of art to engage with… so Against Drunken Cat Paws it is.
1/29/2021 We are all tired of the Pandemic, of the restrictions and need to change our behaviors in uncomfortable ways, and many of us have barely enough resources to survive, but I believe we will come out the other side better, with a path to being even more equitable and living shining before us. I am grateful for that hope, even as it struggles to be heard among the voices in my head telling me most people are mean, small, and untrustworthy. But I hear it, clear as a bell, chiming in rhythm with the motions of the world around me.
1/27/2021 The sewer line has backed up somewhere, so I spent the morning shoveling sewage into a bucket. A man from the city came and checked the flow at the street, and confirmed something was stuck between the house and where he stood, so, now I get to try and poke around with a snake and try to make the shit flow again. And I am grateful for every step, for the presence of plumbing, for the attention I was forced to give it, for the cranky man with the flow meter, for the snake I had in my garage from the last time this happened. Life is a wonder.
1/26/2021 The sun on a frozen day, so bright in the window it hurts my eyes. I lay back and the inside of my eyes a sea of red and orange, and I feel all the other days when I felt the same sensation, spiraling backwards from this one. Even as a child I loved the way the warmth and the play of light through my lids put me in a state of peaceful awareness.
1/23/2010 Sitting in front of a fire, coldest day of the winter on the other side of the window. The dogs get excited when I brush out the fireplace, the flames turn them into lotus eaters. Nothing wrong with that.