Gratitude

Sometimes life appears to me like swirls of dye suspended in oil.  The patterns shift, coalesce into beautiful patterns, then bleed into visual noise before coming back together again.  It is never fixed - always fluid and dynamic.  Today, on Thanksgiving, I see jagged eddies around the edges of this life, but in the center, something truly beautiful has emerged.

I am grateful for so much right now.  That I am here, in this house, with a cat curled up on the pillow beside me, my son and husband sleeping peacefully nearby.  We are healthy, we are together, we have food to eat and clothes to wear.  And we are all able to pursue our passions.  My home is filled with instruments and art supplies.  Two days ago, we drummed together in a community drum circle.  In three weeks, Liam will perform again with his band.  And tomorrow, I will be honored to teach a spin class.

Just now, the pattern has shifted again, as my son has joined me on the bed, the cat has moved to a nearby bench and dawn creeps around the curtains.  Soon, a parade will begin and kitchens will fill with the smells of sage and butter.  There will be turbulence in the oil, as people reach for respite from the lingering malignancy of a bitter election in familiar rituals and tradition.

But as comforting as traditions can be, I'm grateful for the communities of people that our non-traditional choices have brought into our lives, and the friends and family who have supported us from the beginning. I'm ever hopeful that my words, shared in groups like Unschooling Special Needs, Homeschool/Unschool Bloggers and Secular Homeschoolers, help give some support to parents who haven't found it close at hand.

And in the constant ebb and flow, I hope everyone can find a few moments of pure beauty.