I know when you’re in a tidal wave of love, when things are flowing sweet, when Eros is all around, being grateful is like breathing. But what about after you’ve made a major mistake? Is it possible to get to gratitude when it feels like your ship is sailing in the wrong direction, when happiness fades and fine platitudes are the last things you want to hear? We’ve all had times where all we want to do is dig into a pit of sorrow, where, even if we know wallowing wont work, we do it anyway. This is when getting to gratitude really counts. But how can we feel grateful when everything seems closed, and hopeless and dark?
Here’s four big reasons why gratitude beats regret and resentment, every time.
Gratitude Feels Better
Of course we’d rather be tingling with gratitude every minute of the day, but the truth is, sometimes we choose to mope with pain, stew in our resentment or just lounge around trying not to think too much. Usually while we’re licking or barking about our wounds what we really need is attention; we want somebody to know we’re hurting. The trouble is, while it keeps us busy, it also keeps us in the pit longer. Gratitude is a way out.
Gratitude Takes Less Effort
All we have to do is
As life bestows blessings or delivers punishing blows, how can musing on each element of creation for several dawns and dusks, watching spiders and ants, clouds and the moon reveal the secrets of abundance? Surrendering to the splendors of Mother Life, I see how to ward off misfortune with patience. Feeling the relentless wind, the gush of currents, the fire in the stars, I hear Nature’s urgent call to give unreasonable beauty, kindness and wisdom for the benefit of others.
The Four Corners of Abundance
Two Massai Women from a small village in Kenya attend a Quodoushka, Spiritual Sexuality Workshop in Phoenix, Arizona
Quodoushka Meets Massai
While every Quodoushka that I have taught has been a remarkably healing experience, once every twenty years or so, something truly extraordinary happens…
I’ll start by explaining how two Massai women from a rural village in Kenya managed to attend a Quodoushka in Phoenix Arizona. In 2007, Annetta Luce, a friend I met during an Australian “Q,” volunteered to go to Africa to work and live with a local family. After returning to the U.S., she was later contacted by Jane, a woman from the same Kenyan village who was now in Philadelphia, seeking asylum to remain in the USA.
Jane is the mother of three children, including a 12-year old daughter, Esther. Like all women in the Massai tribe, Jane was “cut” as a child, near the same age as her own daughter and soon thereafter pledged by her father into an arranged marriage.
I must admit, I had heard about the “cut,” a primitive form of female genital mutilation. I read that it is done by women who, to this day, physically hold down the young girls, cut off their clitorises with a knife and then pour cow’s urine over the open wound. Yes, I knew of this gory insanity, but it seemed like yet another God-awful, far-away, unsolvable problem – that is, until Jane came into my living room.