There are No Prerequisites for Being Grateful

Over the weekend I received some feedback regarding Grateful Brand that was very positive in the general scope of praise, but this individual alarmed me with what was, in my opinion, a very narrow and misguided viewpoint of the origins of gratitude and what one must be to experience what was stated as being, “true gratitude.”

For the purpose of this entry, we will refer to this individual as Mary.

With a warm embrace and encouragement to continue developing Grateful Brand, Mary asserted that, “We need more young Christian men like you in the world expressing their gratitude. Lord knows where we would be if there weren’t people like us.” 

I knew Mary’s intentions were well founded and because of her pleasant nature I did not have the heart to tell her that I did not identify with the Christian faith nor any faith for that matter, but that I am simply a privately spiritual person. I was alarmed because, in her mind, there was only one reasonable explanation as to why I could have been producing Grateful Brand and that reason was that I was a born again Christian. I had to be. Christianity was the absolute truth and there weren’t exceptions. But what if I was Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, Mormon, a Scientologist or, dare I say, completely Atheist? Would it matter? Sadly, in Mary’s mind, I think it would.

I would like to give you a brief, assumed history of gratitude in relation to human beings. You’ll have to pardon me, though, as I am basing this assumption on logic and what limited anthropological education I have. I do not hold a PhD in evolutionary biology nor have I ever been to seminary. Based on what I know to be the nature of human beings, I would deduce that from mankind’s introduction to the world, we have been fighting for survival. It is a natural and instinctual response to express appreciation either behaviorally or through verbal communication in a effort to gain favorable odds for having that which is appreciated occur again, thus making survival easier, even if only by the slightest of margins.

Mary implied that to be “truly grateful,” one must have a relationship with the Christian God, otherwise, there would not be as much to be grateful for. Life could not possibly be as fulfilling. She may not have said it explicitly, but her convictions were forthright and expressed through who she was and how she functioned in her surroundings. What alarms me about this is that Mary is not alone. Billions of people around the globe would need to convert; need to change their belief system to live on a divinely higher plain, enabling them to express true gratitude. For the record, I completely disagree with this. To be grateful, you need only be human. It is this shared quality and being able to bestow kindness that produces gratitude.

The cyclical nature of gratitude is that people who have something to be grateful for perform acts of kindness. Mary may be a woman of strong conviction, but there are no differentiating values associated with the extent of her gratitude and my own. We are grateful.

I affirm anyone’s right to believe as they will, but I need only look back through history to know that religious differences have motivated the slaughter of millions of people over the course of our humanly existence. With beliefs so strong, I can understand how people can forget that we are all just human.        

Food for Thought and Candy for the Eye

I love venturing to the Hollywood Farmers Market on Sundays. Even if I don’t purchase anything, it’s still a pleasant place to spend time, people-watch and take in a little culture. There are so many wonderful things to see, smell and experience. The produce are always incredibly fresh and aesthetically pleasing to the eye. I wish it wasn’t limited to just Sundays.

On this particular excursion I came across a very focused young woman who was writing poems with a vintage typewriter on her lap. Any subject you’d like for what ever you’d be willing to pay. I wish I had had some cash on me.

I also met a brilliant musician by the name of Phillip King who played the harp with incredible dexterity. Amazingly, he paired this classical based instrument with beat boxing. The combination was unexpected but magically, it worked.

                         

While walking home from the Market, I began to reflect on my experience there. It was all just so easily accessible. Quality food, food education, works of art, crafts of all sorts, music, the sense of community, laughter. It was, for me, normal: a typical Sunday morning. I then began to think about how many people in the city of Los Angeles simply lack the ability and resources to access such a wonderful market. But in relation to the world, Los Angeles is so small. There are millions of people on this planet that don’t have access to nutritious food and clean water. There are millions of people on this planet that lack the freedom to express themselves artistically. 
 

It is amazing to think how incredibly fortunate we are.  

What We Can Learn from a Molted Feather

This morning I enjoyed a wonderful exercise in interpretation and projection. Having been an English major with a heavy concentration in Poetry, I tend to examine and dissect literature, visual art, nature, inanimate objects and interestingly random occurrences, finding meaning in Life’s, often overlooked, small details.

As I opened my apartment door to let my two cats, Quarterback (QB) and Sadie, out into the courtyard, I noticed this feather positioned exactly as pictured on the railing directly in front of my door. “How peculiar,” I thought. I immediately returned for my handy iPhone to capture the photo. Personally, I find the symmetry to be quite beautiful.

I then began to think about the bird that may have lost this feather and whether or not it was still alive and, if so, able to fly without it. Judging by the ash-gray color, I would guess it once belonged to a pigeon, but I’m no ornithologist. I then began to think of myself as a bird and what species I might be. Then came the self-pity. Don’t judge. We’re all allowed every now and then.

I have experienced enough rejection in my quarter century to now be able to handle rejection of all sorts very well. However, I also like to think of myself as a veritable wagon wheel, but with more important things to support than a payload of bruised ego. This doesn’t mean, though, that I simply forget. Numerous opportunities I’ve pursued, people I’ve been completely enamored with, and jobs I’ve applied for have all fed me, “you’re not this and you’re not that and you don’t have this and you don’t have that,” and so forth and so on. Disappointment and hurt are alive and well, but after my moment of pity, reflecting on the metaphorical feathers that I don’t have and feeling like a little brown emu, I realized that I needed to get over myself.

I chose to believe that my pigeon friend, wherever he may have been, was alive and well and I returned to reality. If you watch enough National Geographic and Animal Planet, you’ll know that molting is a natural occurrence in most animal species and, in the case of birds, where one feather is lost, another eventually takes its place leaving flight uninterrupted.

I am not an emu. In fact, I believe I have more in common with that obnoxiously resilient pigeon than I initially thought this morning. I may not have or may not be many things but, nevertheless, I am flying. Perhaps not gracefully, but flying is flying.  For the ability to keep my feet ever so slightly off the ground, I am grateful.

And, if you think about it, there’s really no place I can go but up.     

Share your stories with me at gratefulbrand@gmail.com. I would love to hear from you.

  

Life: Beautiful, Not or In Between

While driving north on La Brea Ave or Highland Ave in Los Angeles, California toward Hollywood, it’s hard to miss the large “Life Is Beautiful” murals painted on the sides of two prominent buildings. And it’s true; if asked to give a simple yes or no answer to whether Life was beautiful or not, I would say that Life is indeed beautiful. But lets be honest about our understanding of Life and how we’ve experienced it. I’m sure you’ll agree that Life is all encompassing: yesterday, today, and tomorrow, the good, the bad, and the indifferent. I don’t mean to come off as being cynical—I agree with the obvious message captured in this artwork—but the murals also capture a simple, yet less obvious, truth as implied by the choice of colors and conceptual design.

The bold, white block lettering followed with an exclamation point implies optimism, truth, love, hope, good; a myriad of wonderful things that affirm the joys that contribute to making Life beautiful. But we would be delusional if we dared to assume that Life’s beauty is summed up in general positives. Life is easily corrupted with lies, hate, violence, injustice, struggle and this is illustrated by the dripping white paint, ascending from the letters themselves. As if being corroded naturally, the artist has given the city of Los Angeles a beautifully accurate visual metaphor for the city itself, and Hollywood in particular. So many people flock to Los Angeles in the pursuit of grand dreams only to leave mentally and physically crushed and penniless. This reality is further captured by the black background, which represents the balance between Life’s joys and pains.

This is a very random thought, but appropriate for the subject matter. I have an affinity for nature documentaries and while I enjoy observing and studying wildlife, the truth is, a lioness will nurture her cubs in one scene and will be hanging from the jugular of a zebra in the next, or will even destroy the offspring of competing species with fervent hatred. This is life, and this is just the way it is and, will continue to be.

The artist and optimist in me wants to see these murals inspire everyone who gazes upon them for many years to come, but, instead of believing solely that Life Is Beautiful, I must resign myself to believing that, in Life, there is beauty—of which the eye of the beholder should interpret and come to an individualized conclusion—scattered amongst everything else, and therefore, Life just is.

In believing that Life just is, though, I realize that I am taking away from the romance that comes with pondering Life’s meaning or purpose. But I want to assert that even if my interpretation on this artwork is completely misguided and I come off as being artistically uninformed, know with absolute certainty that I am grateful for Life: yesterday, today, and tomorrow, the good, the bad, and the indifferent.

Life is. And I am grateful.