A Choice of Gratitude

Lately, I've been facing some large emotional spaces in regard to my father. It's a place inside me where sorrow runs so deep that a breathless silence can absorb all words. Throughout our relationship, I have visited this sadness often enough that, in some ways, it seems to always be there. Yet, I am still somehow surprised each time by the refreshed heartache that new levels of grieving bring into focus.

But this time around, after a short period of customary resistance, I did something different. I offered my struggle a reprieve. I decided to simply acknowledge the impossibleness of this place where my awareness stands. I allowed myself a small measure of relief in the recognition that there is nothing acceptable about the situation I am facing. There is nothing that I can figure out to do or not do to make myself more comfortable in this impossible place. Something began to ease in me as I proclaimed the strength in my misery. Something shifted from feeling so pressing and personal. I realized that I didn't need to internalize my experience in order to sort it out. I didn't need to be miserable. The situation itself is miserable. As my perception shifted wavelengths, my emotional contraction saw an opening of space. My breath spread wide as if to catch me like a net from my unending fall into overwhelm.

A friend asked me one day, "Is there anything good that you can see about this situation?" Nothing was available in my scope that day. But I recognized its importance, and the question lingered. Another friend offered the perception that my father's life could be seen as his soul taking a stand that the unbearable and unspeakable legacy of pain stops here with him. This bigger picture of soul connection felt viable, and in that moment, outweighed the importance I had placed in my worldly focus of addiction, denial and rejection. As I sat to allow these seeds to root, I came across a favorite poem from my beloved friend, Rumi.

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture.

Still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond. ¹

Through this spoken generosity, my focus came back to gratitude. These words spoke my truth. As I felt the embrace of this grace, I recognized more deeply the intimate interconnectedness of who I am today with the seemingly failed dedication of my father's existence. My father has never welcomed his emotions. He has never been grateful for whoever comes. He has become stifled in clutter and without the expectation of new delight. He has resigned his will to obligation and denial, having never discovered the courage to make a choice of gratitude. And I realized right then … where he has failed to believe, I have succeeded. What he has denied, I have welcomed. Where he has been lost, I have found my truth. All that he is and is not has been folded into the fullness of who I am … and for the gift of who I am, I am grateful.

My father's inability to rejoice in being human has birthed in me a constant celebration ~ an observance of life that welcomes and treats each guest honorably. I adore the full spectrum of human emotion and believe whole-heartedly that each has been sent as a guide from beyond. Who I am is the blossom from my own choosing to unearth this strength and offer it a place of honor in my life. But before the blossom can unfold, it seeks strong roots in deep soil. I have access to this strength because of the nutrients of my father's suffering. At least, this is what I am choosing to believe. Amidst the impossibleness, I can allow peace and acceptance to flourish from this choice.

You've also been granted this strength of choice … to access some greatness that has grown from the seeds of your parents' or ancestors' pain. How have you been graced from the pain that has come before you? Where can you make a choice of gratitude? This gratitude is your bounty from all that has come before now ~ the pain, sorrow, torment, terror, shame, anguish and disappointment have all paved the path for your freedom. It is your choice to accept the denial of past … or claim your will to draw upon the strength of your ancestors' offerings and make a choice of gratitude.

For now, I stand soaked in sorrow as I grieve my father's unexpressed potential and unfulfilled life. But I will never be lost to the torment of his past. This suffering stops here with him. My pain will heal eventually, as the strength of my gratitude washes through the fibers of my aching being until I am renewed. And I have my father to thank for that certainty. Like an abundant and cozy blanket, I will wrap my love around my father's weary spirit and honor him with my passionate conviction to make a choice of gratitude. I welcome all my emotions with an open heart and meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in as my guests, for they may be clearing me out for some new delight … and I know my father's spirit will join me in this celebration!

¹ Rumi, The Guest House, Translated by Coleman Barks with John Moyne