Thankful

Someone suggested to me recently that I compile a mental list of everything I’m thankful for each night before I go to sleep. If the sleeping pill hasn’t kicked in yet, this can become an entertaining exercise.

The first thing that popped into my head when I got into bed was how very thankful I am that there are Stouffer’s French bread pizzas sold in a grocery store just blocks from my apartment. Shallow, but true—if these things were discontinued I would be inconsolable.

The second thing that popped into my head was cable TV. As someone who was denied access to this treasure trove of the vapid while a child, I’ve taken to it with open eyes as an adult, and have developed a bad but extremely satisfying habit of staying up way too late to watch CSI, Bravo TV reality shows, and MSNBC’s “docblocks.”

I then acknowledged my thankfulness for the health of family and friends. I thanked the terrorists and earthquake faults for holding off for the time being. I thanked popular opinion in 'Merica for finally wising up to Bush’s imbecility, and I thanked the company I work at for keeping me more or less gainfully employed.

And then a curious thing started happening—I started fishing around for more things I'm thankful for and for a few moments, could only grasp at some big stinking unthankfuls. And then I realized what this little exercise was supposed to be about, that even in the negatives, the someone who suggested that I be thankful in the first place, might be gunning for me to find a positive. So I tried. I gave a reluctant thanks that I was able to attend my friend Jon’s funeral in September, and that his ashes scatter through the place we met and shared so many delirious moments of fleeting epiphany while we used the bonfire to light cigarette after cigarette, idea after idea, adventure after misadventure.

And I also acknowledged how thankful I was that I hadn’t gotten “the phone call” yet about my other friend [xxxx], even though our communications cut off some time ago. My real thanks lies in the realization that came out of my damaging enabling--that control is an illusion, that good intentions aren't always enough, that liberation is best found by just letting go.

Like falling asleep. The unconscious bliss. The dreams rushing at me.