12. Blessings – Mavis Staples
When things are difficult, when troubles seem overwhelming, it’s helpful to look back and consider all you’ve gotten through and how far you’ve come.
Many times in my life, I’ve come across someone who won’t smile, who won’t speak to me. I’ll get on an elevator and say “good morning,” and that person won’t say anything in return. My sister Yvonne—she’s different from me. When people are rude or unfriendly, Yvonne’ll tell them, “I didn’t do anything to you! Whatever is on your mind, don’t take it out on me.” But I’m wired differently. I keep a smile on my face, and I say to myself, “Alright. I’ll say a little prayer for you.”
And I’ll say a prayer that whatever they’re struggling with, they’ll get through. That whatever is heavy, whatever is burdening them, they’ll find a way to lighten that load. That they’ll realize, even in the middle of great struggle, there are things to be thankful for.
This is especially true in hard times like these. When things are difficult, when troubles seem overwhelming, it’s helpful to look back and consider all you’ve gotten through and how far you’ve come. It’s important to remember your blessings, starting with the fact that you woke up this morning. The sun rose again, and you did too—and here you are, breathing, above the concrete.
And just acknowledging that simple fact as a blessing—that can make you feel better. That’s what I’m hoping for when people come hear me sing. When they leave a concert, I want people to feel better, to feel good—because I feel good. I’m singing for myself too.
– Mavis Staples
Prompt:
Write about your blessings. About what it was like to wake up today, about the people you love, about the songs that have lifted your spirits. Write about the wind in the trees, or of rebirth in spring, or of freedom. Write about whatever gives you life, which—especially in troubled times, we remember—is so precious.
Anonymous
There are things I’ve always loved about spring — the promise, the first warm day, the hope. There is even some demented enjoyment in rubbing at itchy eyes and covering sneezes — you know it’s worth it for a walk through newly bloomed flowers. In some ways, spring has always felt like a waiting period. When I say spring is promise, I mean the promise of summer. Of lighter days. The end of dark and dreary winter. Goodbye to grey afternoons that turn you bedridden. Goodbye to early mornings, frigid hands clearing off snow from windshields. Goodbye to snow boots trudging up icy hills. In summer, we find dew on the grass in the morning. The smell of ladybugs and barbecue smoke. Evenings that stretch out for as long as the light does. Freedom. In high school, winters always felt like something I had to survive. The lack of sun turned me tired and heavy and sad. The first sign of spring always made me feel like I had the chance to be born again. Maybe this time, I’d be better. This year, spring could be called a jail cell or a purgatory. But even hidden within our own homes — there is still hope. There is still the way we jump out of bed on mornings when sun sneaks through our windows. More thankful for light than ever before. We take long walks through the town where we grew up and I try my best to really feel the sun on my skin — the magic that will make me alive again. We still have our bodies to take care of — find new ways to nourish our muscles and our minds. Take all this gifted time to feel our own strength — how we can run further than we could a year ago, how we keep moving. How there is more quiet to fill with the things I’ve always loved — worn books and fresh journals. And there are still people. There is still love. Through phone screens. In the way we reached our hands across the length of my front lawn when my cousins drove by. In my family. Who I get to know in new ways, after always rushing and leaving for the past five years. We make sushi, tempt my brothers out of their rooms for a game of scrabble, clink wine glasses and talk about When This Is Over. Every morning, Keurig coffee is a delicacy. Connection is a commodity. Time is plenty. Patience is our friend. I’ve known dark times. I’ve lived in chaos. I’ve felt like the world was ending many times before. But there is always light through the cracks. There is always more support than you can see. And there is always the promise that at the end of this, summer is waiting for us — brighter and warmer than we can remember, a place where we jump in waves, race melting ice cream cones, gather to sing and pray and drink. There, we’ll be brand new. There, we will be safe.
Eileen Lynch
Location: Chicago, Illinois
About: I am a writer, teacher, and editor. A blessing of this summer has been practicing yoga in the wild with my teacher and a small group of friends. We meet in a prairie meadow and have been blessed with sunshine, storms, and fellowship.
Age: 66
Dragonflies
The doorway into thanks is not a door but a meadow
Dizzy with tall grass swaying in the heat of another
Ninety degree day on the prairie.
I enter the doorway in pigeon pose
My teacher praying from her mat
Magda collapsed over her knees
Val behind white boulders
All present
To a seam of light opening
Between cotton balled clouds
Unseparated by houses or people or maybe one man walking by with his red dog
We practice the pigeon
Hips releasing
Stillness
Breathing out the hard day, the sneaking virus
“I’ve never seen so many dragonflies”
My teacher points to ten of them circling my head
Black laced winged and graceful
She grabs her book of signs and reads
“Dragonflies signify change, unavoidable change”
Queen Anne’s lace releases the smell of childhood
Scabby knees stained green
Painted red with mercurochrome by Mrs. Lonergan down the block
She floats behind a far cloud
The Sunday school nun called Heaven
A quorum of butterflies pray over my head
I relax into my mat
In corpse pose
I don’t want to die
But if I do
Can I be surrounded by sky?
Cheered on by bird song
And the smiles of my friends who gather
Faithfully to practice
This has all been practice
Jenna Valente
Location: Somerville, Massachusetts
About: One thing about lockdown is we had an abundance of time to notice things changing in and around our space and neighborhood. What was particularly striking and brought me a lot of joy in an otherwise tense time was observing the flowers bud, bloom, and leaves emerge on the, once bare, trees.
Age: 30
today, I’m counting my blessings
by the blossom
limbs that were once bare and lonesome
now dawn an extravagant gown,
robust and wholesome
tailored with precision,
sewn with fibers of warmth
light, and mindful decisions
i’m reminded that,
like the seasons,
blessings come and go
and the most earnest
take time and nurturing to grow
Naomi Miller
Location: Colorado
About: I woke up Easter morning to a blanket of snow covering my world. Considering we were still in the middle of strict quarantine I found it funny that the weather was encouraging us not to proceed as usual with traditional celebrations.
Age: 45
I am thankful that despite waking up Easter morning to a fresh blanket of snow, I am viewing it from a warm home filled with the people I love.
These are my white Easter thoughts...
Despite having a special holiday all her own Winter had always wanted to celebrate Easter, but Spring never invited her. She wanted to experience the beauty she had heard so much about. Brightly colored flowers, hand painted eggs being hunted by children with woven baskets, family meals served al fresco, and something about biting off the heads of bunnies (this seemed a little strange but she was willing to keep an open mind). Eager to be on time she arrived in the early morning hours so she wouldn’t miss anything. But as the Sun arose, illuminating the scene, all she could see was herself. The Sun winked at Spring peaking out from the edge of Winter’s white robe. “Be patient”, he said, “she’ll get bored and leave soon.”
Patrick McDonnell
Location: Paris / Montreal
About: A paean to a VW van, which has carried me on many adventures.
Age: 68
The VW Bus
I had lived in Paris for four years looking for love. I had found many love affaires but no love. I was at the feeling of being 'au bout du rouleau' finally thinking I should give into pure hedonism, and just fill my empty well of desire. Then it happened. She appeared, like a breath of fresh air and honesty. We were gobsmacked afterwards. It took me a few days to digest, and to try again, and again it was seventh heaven. So we formed a couple, for the first time in years, I had a real girl friend. A new beginning.
At the same time I had a Volkswagen Combi van that I had purchased with my parents. It was like a ship on wheels that needed sailing. We decided to go to Spain with some so-called friends. The crew consisted of a Greek physicist student, and a couple made up of a Iranian girl and a New Yorker who wanted to buy a guitar - more on that later... The New Yorker said he knew how to shift manual gears, until he didn't, and insisted that the purpose of the trip was to serve him. He was a shmuck. We left him and his girl friend outside of Madrid to go buy his guitar, and we continued down to Granada and Sevilla. The Greek guy would tell my girlfriend dirty stories in Greek. At least he could shift, and we survived many adventures.
Back in the states, the van followed us like a faithful dog. I used it to visit my girl friend on long distance trips from the south to the north and vise versa. She finally decided to test the waters teaching and my van was there to pick her up at New Orlean's Louis Armstrong airport. Thus began a period of living in Lafayette Louisiana together, with side trips via the van to New Orleans. My girl friend even drove it to her work, calculating all the places she had to shift.
It followed us to Dallas and Houston, and even to the West coast of California where it took to the steep hills of San Francisco. My girl friend christened it "Hannibal" for its hill climbing ability.
We moved to France, and I left it to my mother for a dollar. I shed a tear when we parted. Hannibal the VW Combi had carried us across two continents, faithfully and with determination if not speed. My heart always goes into my mouth when I see one, like this one parked in my neighbourhood. It had been the source of many new beginnings and much happiness.
