mix tapes from babylon

i find myself spending more and more time just being grateful, and not for anything specific, these days. i mean, there is specificity to my gratitude, but it's also just an overwhelming feeling i carry with the through my days, not unlike the anxiety and angst that i carried through my late twenties and into being thirty. the difference is that the gratitude is a pleasure to bear. and i find that as i get deeper and deeper into my gratitude, what comes out of that is encouragement. even on days when i cry all the way home (and yes, there are still those days), or days when i am utterly convinced that this is all there is, and it's never going to be enough (and yes, there are still those days), i've started forcing myself to examine all the bits of the day, and find that there is ALWAYS something to be thankful for, ALWAYS someone to encourage ( not berate, or coach, but just love on and tell them how fabulous they are), ALWAYS a Good Friday, followed by an Easter morning. i am amazed at the bounty i find when i am willing to open my eyes. and you know, the more i get in tune with gratitude, encouragement, believing in the truth of the triumph of love, i am reminded that not everyone lives like this. some of the people closest to me seem to be succumbing more and more to negativity, victimhood, believing that we are each on our own in this world. it's hard to be around those people, hard to know how to talk to them, how to hold them, how to share with them. there comes a point at which, after being scolded for my percieved naivete and reminded over and over again that optimists are insane and frankly kind of silly, i just shut up and make the faces people want me to make, responding mostly with non-committal verbalizations. i am the horse that refuses to drink at the rank well, no matter how hard i'm beaten. i'd rather take a thousand lashes than cave in and lose the ability to find G-d in all the strange and hard places, to find gratitude in the tears, and be able to shout encouragement through a mouth full of blood. i'm done with pointing fingers. i'd rather just hold someone's hand, and listen to their story. i'm over correcting people when they get facts wrong, or tell outright lies. i'd rather just listen to why they are angry, and tell them how much i love them, and remind them of all the wonderful, true things about themselves. i'd rather light a candle than lay in my bed, terrified of what might be under my bed. and i'd rather run through the gates of the kingdom of G-d, with my head on fire and my mouth full of praise than go limping through life with nothing but complaints about what i don't have. that dosen't make me better than anyone, or worse than anyone. that just makes me...me. this is what works for me. it's about radical acceptance, careful engagement, and resting in the confidence that there is a G-d who loves all of us more than we can ask or imagine. i refuse to sit in babylon and complain that my songs have been taken from me, my praise can't be heard in this foreign place. i am singing at the top of my lungs. mil besos, rmg