119. "i thank You God for most this amazing"
The other day, my friend Carmen read me a poem by E.E. Cummings that made me feel a little lighter. It’s a poem that pares everything down and rejoices in the most essential things, like the color blue and the peculiar fact that we exist.
It’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving here in the United States. At this point people are usually making preparations for holiday travel, for gathering and feasting and celebrating the bounty of good things that have come our way.
Our traditional plans aren’t in the cards this year, and with all we’ve been through, giving thanks for all the good things feels like a stretch. If you’re anything like me, you’ve long been exhausted of looking on the bright side, finding silver linings. We are carrying a substantial amount of sorrow and grief, and it’s more than okay to sit with that.
And yet: The other day, my friend Carmen read me a poem by E.E. Cummings that made me feel a little lighter. It’s a poem that pares everything down and rejoices in the most essential things, like the color blue and the peculiar fact that we exist.
For me, that helped reframe my perspective, and maybe even refract it, as light through a prism.
As the poem says, “now the ears of my ears awake and / now the eyes of my eyes are opened.” I hope the poem and this prompt do the same for you.
With love and in thanksgiving—for you, for trees, for sky, and for whatever force threw us all into existence together.
– Suleika
P.S. I recommend reading the poem aloud, maybe more than once, and letting it resonate. You can also find a recording on youtube of E.E. Cummings reading it himself (in a gloriously mid-century, Mid-Atlantic accent).
P.P.S. If you want some extra permission to not fake your way through the holiday, check out this incredible op-ed by former prompt contributor Nora McInerny.
"i thank You God for most this amazing" by E.E. Cummings
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of allnothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
Prompt:
Write a poem of gratitude. Write from your deepest senses. Write of the “great happening illimitably earth” and all its strange wonders (including me, including you). Write with the ears of your ears awake, and the eyes of your eyes open.
Anonymous
Location: Arizona
About: I often feel gratitude most in the small simple things; a warm cup of coffee in my hands, the sound of much needed rain falling on the roof, soaring birds. The latter inspired this poem.
Age: 59
Upon walking outside
She saw a Monarch fluttering in the garden.
As always, the erratic flight mesmerized her,
And she followed its journey as it floated higher towards the trees.
Looking upwards,
There sat the Cooper’s Hawk
Resting majestically in the Mesquite, just above her head.
But having been disturbed,
It too took flight,
And lifted from its desert perch.
She heard the beat of its ascent.
She marveled at the color and patterns,
Of belly and wings,
The tail banded with flint grey and ink.
And gratitude awoke,
Filling her heart
And spilling over, seeped into the crevices previously occupied with worry and fear.
Briefly
There was connection,
And she released a prayer………
“The Spirit in me, acknowledges the Spirit in you”.
And gratitude rippled like waves across the universe,
Intangible but real.