A Thanksgiving Story

Today is the first Thanksgiving I have ever spent alone. In all of my forty-something years, I have never found myself on the fourth Thursday in November with no family nearby with whom to share the holiday. I knew this would be the case, so it’s not a sudden revelation. But while a month ago I was fine with it and felt no sense of sadness (or self-pity) at the idea of being alone on Thanksgiving, I must admit the last few days I’ve felt a change.

It’s probably because every time someone asked me, “What are you doing for the holiday?”, I found myself without an answer. I’ve always had an answer to that question. I’ve always said, “getting together with family”, regardless of the venue or the attendees. I also usually got to brag about my mom’s fabulous made-from-scratch pumpkin and pecan pies that were fixtures of the holiday. But this year those pies are 1000 miles away, as is my family. And since my own kids are with their mom today, I am alone.

My mom’s pumpkin pie is better than this. Though there’s usually more whipped cream.

Or, put differently – I am free. I know I create my experience of life, so I realize I can choose to create today as a day of “loneliness”, or I can choose to create it as a day of “freedom”. It really all depends on how I look at it. Sometimes, though, I need to look really hard at something before I can see it differently.

Here is a true story of something I experienced once upon a time. Nothing has been changed in this story – not even the names. It happened exactly as I describe it here. It was the first time I was shown how God often finds unique and surprising ways to speak to me. And the message I got on this particular night was: gratitude can be found anywhere.

One night, several years ago, as I was trying to get to sleep, a dog started barking. Read On


Playa Notes

This week’s “zombie” post reminded me that writing this blog can be fun, and it occurred to me that, lately, this blog has had more emphasis on the “serious” and less on the “silly”. And the last thing I want this blog to be is something that makes people think, “Jeez, that guy’s gotten so preachy – what happened to the days when Terry was fun?”

I like to think that this blog is just a reflection of my real life, and I try to write as truthfully and transparently as possible. And the space I’m in on my journey does seem to place a lot of emphasis on the spiritual, on admitting my human frailty and flaws, on the awakening consciousness — and all that shit. But as evidenced by that last sentence, I like to laugh, I like to be offbeat, and I like to be weird. And I don’t want to lose sight of that just because I happen to be growing up mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

So it is with this in mind that I give you — the random musings jotted down in my little pink journal that I carried with me everywhere at Burning Man this year. Similar to last year’s “P.S. Bullet Points” post, these notes are occasionally cryptic even to me, but most are linked to one-of-a-kind experiences that will never come my way again, thus making them priceless memories. Read On