It’s taken me a lifetime of fleeting visits to the sacred places gratitude hangs out. Short sleep overs and one night stands have found me rushing back into the streets looking for the signs out of town. After 60 plus years, I ’m grateful that I am finally learning how to slow down enough to let gratitude invite me in for a cup of tea and lend me a warm blanket.  Although I still flounder at times, my practice of gratitude is now the constant hearth and home of me. What I know is that gratitude is not passive.  It is deep listening in each moment with wonder and appreciation and being a full participant to what is. With gratitude I have found the world a magical place.

It’s truly seeing the light through the trees as the sun heads west with no need of words or explanation. It’s watching a hawk hovering over the ocean cliffs as time stands still and dancing to Stevie Wonder on Thanksgiving Eve with my 20 year old son.  It is being a witness to the fullness of life no matter what it brings.  Even the inevitable sorrows have helped me become a deeper more compassionate human being.  As I sit here this Thanksgiving morning in my new home in San Diego, waiting for my son to wake up and friends to arrive from LA,  I am forever grateful for my life and this extraordinary gift of gratitude.  It’s a beautiful place to live.