thanksgiving

I am thankful for November, for the beauty of a month strung through bare powerlines and dusty purple skies, goldenrod leaves twitching in their skin, unnerved by wind and the promise of flight. I am thankful for this enervating beauty and for the senses that have evolved for the sole purpose of perceiving this. And I am thankful that this beauty will leave someday soon-- replaced by the scraping of naked trees against nakeder sky-- for I am thankful of the seasons, for the only constant in life being the promise of ceaseless inconstancy. This is the language of poetry. In the language of math, it would be: x=delta repeating. That's a triangle with a line over the top of it. The triangle represents change, the line progression toward infinity. It's true-- I liked geometry. Nothing else, no other math. Only geometry and stats. Visual things, I suppose? I remember writing proofs of what I thought the universe was. And that line was the crux of it all: change, infinite. (Writing the word crux now makes me homesick for rock-climbing, for the creative arc of rock and body, solving a problem with the curve of your spine, reach of your arm. And I see now that rock climbing is just geometry with your muscles and the earth, though I cannot say what you are proving exactly-- your humanness or your god-like-ness, your separateness from the earth or your togetherness with it? Either way, it's a great proof-- a paradox in finest form.

I am thankful for paradoxes-- one of the few things in life that really captures all of my mind. I am thankful for words and the promise, always, of more words. I am thankful for books, for the words of others that got me through all the hard times in life, and my own words that push me forward now. I am thankful for trains-- the soul partners of words. I am thankful for the sound they make in the night, for their stubborn tenacity. And at the same time, I am thankful for small birds-- erratic in their flight, the frailness of their wings having never known the thought of tracks.

These are the abstract things I love, bleeding into the concrete. But I am thankful for the tangible, also, the most basic: I am thankful for good shoes and blankets. I am thankful for the jean jacket I wear now, which once belonged to my father when he was my age and so is perfectly worn. I am thankful for yogurt, and bananas, and roasted marshmellows (but not all together). I am thankful for the memory of my Gran's macaroni and cheese, and my grandmother's dark brown rice. I am thankful for my mother's lasagna, and my grandfather's homemade ice cream. I am thankful for my and Jes's pie invention-- tart cherries and blackberries, soft and heavy on the tongue. I am thankful for Dale's love of ginger and salmon, and his ability to mix the two divinely; I am thankful for Melissa's trifle and also her blue eyes. I am thankful for Emma and Kenzie's smiles when they lick the batter.

And now, without effort, I have moved in to the realm of the peopled-- the inevitable human world of thanksgivings that could never really end if I did them properly. Still, because I believe in always approaching the impossible-- a sense of grace carried into futility-- I will start the list. I will embrace my foolishness beneath the feet of the vast universe that has given me just a few carbon-based bodies to love deeply... while the world spins madly on, and stars shift in their constellations, having no knowledge of my silly human life below. Still, I am happy for my insignificance and my significant loves. (Warning: this is long and rambling, and I write it mostly for myself. But some of you are mentioned here and so you may want to read it in pieces? Sorry I am so verbose!):

First, my family: I am thankful for Melissa's listening, and for her humbleness in life. I am thankful for Dale's unassuming artistry... and for Emma's giddy approach to morning, and for Kenzie's inescapable ears, always listening. I am thankful for Will-- his toughness and humor, and the memory of holding him at the beach. I am thankful for Brent's fun-loving friendliness and for the memory of "squirmy worms" as a kid. :) I am thankful for my Grandmother's caring spirit and curiosity, her big blue eyes and the ways she remembers everyone's birthday forever. I am appreciative of my grandfather's quick wit and patience. And my father's love of all things scientific... and his uncomplicated, honest brain. I am thankful for my mother's appreciation of nature, the way the sky commands her... for her love of covered wagons and Calamity Jane. I am thankful for the memory of my Gran's accent, and for her stern survivalism. If I had known my Paw-Paw, I think I would have been thankful for his humor and sweet spirit, from what my mother tells me. For his love of Westerns and working with his hands. But I suppose I can only be thankful for what he gave my mother, and for the lap he offered me young. We used to visit his grave on thanksgiving sometimes; perhaps I can thank him for memories of ducks and cemeteries? I am grateful for my grandmother's sisters-- my great Aunts who have always shown me how to be a strong woman in the world, to walk fast through a creek and exclaim at the sky and then go on about the requirements of your day with a beauty stolen from the mountains, which is really your own if you wear it unpretentiously. I am thankful for all the animals I had growing up, who all taught me-- in their leaving or their dying-- how to cry well. How to love something and help it go-- gently stroke it's body all through the night, and mourn it when the spirit sneaks out, leaving it smaller and unmoving on the kitchen tiles.

And then, my friends: I am thankful for Laura, who stays with me always even when she's not here. I am thankful for that perfect spring day we shared on her farm once, which seemed to capture all of life in a single spoonful. I am thankful for Schutt, who has an owl's eyes, and whose attention and curiosity captivate. I am thankful for the triumvirate we had together, the three of us unleashed on the world-- even if only for a brief time. I am thankful for Jes, for the way she sees the world beneath this world more than anyone I know, and how she always seems to finds the words for it. I am thankful for her honest presence in life. I am thankful for Eliza-- her love of words and music, and the unbridled way she approaches life and the way she made me just a little less repressed, being around her. :) I am thankful for Christen-- the best Knoxville roommate a girl could have-- her ability to always see the good in people, and her ability to write in liquid metaphor. :) I am thankful for Lydia's sense of right and wrong, and her miraculous ability to hold these clear convictions without seeming harsh or judgmental of the world (how do you do that?). I am thankful for Patrick's voice, and his appreciation for all narratives-- big and small-- and for his straightforward intellect. I am thankful for Amineh's bad-ass poetry and the way she is tough without being hard, somehow. (I am also thankful for her cute kitty). :) I give thanks for Elaine's relentless pursuit of everything in life (no matter what motivates it), for Jen L.'s friendliness, always, and her booty-dancing skills. :) For Jen C., I am thankful for her laugh and her bravery to be emotionally honest with people.

And last but not least, I am thankful for Audrey... for her sick and ceaseless sense of humor. :) For her willingness to try almost any kind of food, her openness to the beauty and the begging emptiness of this world, her willingness to engage with those she does not know. For the bravery of her faith and doubt. For her paradox of flight and groundedness, her complex simplicity-- like a glass bottle in the windowsill, twisting the sunlight into a thousand beautiful shapes with nothing but the simple curve of its transparency. The light, which is really a million streaming electrons hurdling through light-years of darkness to land there, on a simple kitchen floor. I am thankful for her November-like beauty. What I am trying to describe is what I am always trying to describe-- which really Jes and Mary Oliver describe best-- that sweetest beauty in life: the ordinary extraordinariness of the unpretentious miracle. So I am thankful for this in you, Aud.

And finally, I am thankful to all my friends and family for putting up with me-- complete with my verbosity and excessive love of science, insecurity and obsessions (did I mention I was thankful for jellyfish?), roaming dissatisfactions and hopes.

I am thankful for mountains. Forgot that one. ;)