I’m grateful for the mini miracle of finding my missing silver feather which had separated from its hook a couple of weeks ago. Had I lost it downtown? Was it in the house? Was it tumbled into the plowed driveway gravel? I’ve been grateful for having equanimity about its loss, not wailing or gnashing my teeth about it, nor overexerting myself hunting for it. Letting it go and aware that it might turn up; lost things so often do. As I dropped the last armful of kitchen towels and dish cloths into the washing machine this afternoon during mouse cleanup, I chanced to look down and there was the edge of the feather peeking out from under the washer. I shrieked with joy. I’ve had these earrings for 35 years; I bought them at a Seminole Pow Wow shortly before moving away from Florida, where a piece of my heart remains.

I was grateful for equanimity all day. I balanced the chore of disinfecting parts of the kitchen with time outside disinfecting drawers from the kitchen, and excavating a few wasp nests deep in the wire cavity of the front porch light; and time inside listening to dharma talks, working on the puzzle, and more cleaning. I also found equanimity in another exchange with the friend whose comment triggered me the other day. It wasn’t his comment so much as my reaction to it that opened an old wound, and my inner critic came roaring out.

One aspiration with this blog is to help others to find gratitude for the ten thousand joys of this human life, even as they suffer from the ten thousand sorrows. Some of the most pervasive suffering in the culture I was raised in comes from inside our minds. You’re among a fortunate few if you’ve never experienced feelings of self-doubt, of not being enough, not doing enough, not belonging, not loving yourself wholly: the trance of unworthiness described by Tara Brach. I’m grateful that I have many friends who aren’t greatly disappointed in me when I express vulnerability, and some who even appreciate it. 

I’d been thinking for weeks, Why do my little gratitudes even matter, in a world so filled with chaos and hate?  How can I help but question the value of my work and my words, given this reality? Surely I could be doing more. Or could I? When I share joy at an excess of fresh eggs, I writhe inwardly with awareness of the pain of hunger so many millions face across the planet. Equanimity helps me accept the limits of my current conditions, and enables me to do what I can to be kind, patient, and compassionate, with others as well as with myself. But I lose my grasp of it sometimes.

In mindfulness, we’re taught to be grateful even for those who challenge us in unpleasant ways because they can be our best teachers. That’s always been really hard for me, even though I understand it intellectually. After pondering my complicated emotions these past couple of days, and while I was crafting a mindful reply to this challenging person’s latest volley, gratitude suddenly bubbled up. Afflictive habitual thoughts gave way, and authentic gratitude spontaneously arose: I honestly felt grateful for his giving me this opportunity for such deep reflection, insight, and growth. Now that’s equanimity!