Have you ever noticed how many different patterns of raindrops you can get on your window panes? Sometimes there’s just a few big splodges, sometimes diagonal streaks, sometimes – like this morning – a pattern of many little isolated drops and this evening lots and lots of tiny tiny ones. If you’re out in it enough you get to know the different feelings of it landing on you too. I give thanks for the many opportunities I have to notice this... I know it’s not true that ‘Inuit have (however many) words for snow’ but we should have a whole load more for non-frozen wetness falling from the skies!
I give gratitude for Tesco’s Finest potatoes dauphinoise...finest I’ve ever tasted not made by Bob or Jo’s fair lily white hands...
I am also overwhelmingly grateful that what the hospital tells you about it taking six weeks to get back to where you were before this operation is absolutely spot on. Where I was before was kind of up and down but hey ho, it’s so much better that down and downer.
I give thanks for Fats Domino and Fatboy Slim...though I’ve just realised I’ve been singing along to my mp3 player with the windows open. Oh well, they can’t see me pretending to drum along to Green Day...there is something deeply basket case about that, ha ha!*
Hmm...we’re missing gratitude for an aroma here are we not?...Oh, Nag Champa every time.
Buddhist teachings are very hot on not indulging in sensory pleasures, not hankering after those which we perceive as enjoyable or letting the pursuit of them become a habit but equally it is suggested that one must avoid self denial and mortification. The middle ground, the moderation is where I try to be where one can appreciate but not cling or yearn.
*Oh, and I think our ‘sixth’ sense should actually be a sense of humour... what do you reckon?
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