Marrakech: and a not-turkey tale of Thanksgiving

Here’s the thing: I’ve seen some not-so-nice things in my time, I’ve seen suffering, real suffering. I’ve seen poverty – as in people who have virtually nothing.  I’ve been to places so dark that you can’t see the hand in front of your face.   I’ve even seen evil; like the kind you read about in books but in fact is so much worse because it’s, well, real.  

 But here’s the other thing, I’ve been whining a lot recently. Yes, I've been complaining.  I've even been feeling a bit sorry for myself. And it’s ridiculous really because I should know better.  Because I should have some perspective given the things that I’ve seen, the places I’ve gone, the work that I do.   So there are no excuses really.  It’s human perhaps, but it’s also not terribly worthy.

 And so for me this Thanksgiving is not about all those words in curling print on the bottom of the greeting card.  And it’s not about chestnut stuffing or pumpkin pie or hot things in warm mugs. And it’s not even about spending time with family and friends (although that’s awfully nice, too).

 No, for me, Thanksgiving will be about something much more private than that.  It’ll be about digging deep.  It'll be about remembering that all that little stuff that bothers me (and maybe some of it bothers you, too), well, none of it really matters. not. one. bit. So I’ll be turning the music up.  And then I’ll be grabbing some of that shining light that surrounds me (the kind that's always there even when my eyes are shut).

 Because, after all, I’m one of the lucky ones.  

And you know what?  You’re one of the lucky ones, too. 

 So Happy Thanksgiving no matter who you are and where you live. 


 PS And please, you turn up the music, too.  I swear, I can hear it from here.