Grateful: Day 37 - Connected

The first post in a while that I've typed in direct (as in not into Word to post later). The only thing I found at all stressful about not having internet access was not being able to post this blog. Everything else about it was lovely. No constant checking of facebook, and my life was just as good. I need to keep that in my memory.

Something lovely happened this evening. I went into the CostCutter near Acton Central, where the lovely smiling gentleman is, who's always so polite. Once again, when I went in, he beamed and looked genuinely pleased to see me. And then he said 'You are always smiling, always happy' only he said it a lot of times. I smiled (of course - who could not smile when someone says that_ and said 'yes. I am.'

When I came back to pay for my pop, he asked me why that was. He was on the phone at the time, but he put it down and asked again. Why are you so happy? So I told him that I am happy right now because I write this blog, and because my days are spent looking for things to be grateful for, so I can report back. He smiled lots more, but didn't seem to believe me.

Then I remembered that I'd written about him. I got a bit over-excited. It was well meta. 'You're in my blog! I wrote about you, because you always smile too and you're so polite, so I was grateful for you'. Again, he didn't seem to believe me, but he was smiling a lot as I said goodbye, and he gave me a MASSIVE gift by saying that. I grinned all the way home.

I had a takeaway curry tonight. Three days of absolutely delicious vegetarian food has given me Dead Animal Bum again. While waiting in the foggy entrance to the retreat for the taxi to take us to the station, two of the lovely women I've just met commented 'It smells like poo out here'. I agreed, and said something non-specific about fields and cows. Ladies, if you're reading, that was me. I'm terribly sorry. It was my arse. I thought that in the open air, I'd be safe. Turns out nobody was. I do apologise.

The curry was tasty hot, with chicken in it (and real, not shaped/reconstituted). And it was a cheaper than the menu said it would be. Just by £1, but it felt like such a great bonus.

I'm going backwards now. On the way home on the train, I had a call from Richard Lovett. Richard! I haven't spoken to him for years now, and haven't seen him for many more. I looked for him for ages, on facebook and linked in, and finally found him a little while ago. I was thinking about him just last week. So much history. And we fell apart after a difficult time many years ago that I dealt with badly.

Richard was one of the first people I knew who got into buddhism, zen, equanimity, many years ago. I remember him, always passionate about what he was into, trying to explain it to me, offering it to me. And me, at the time, not even listening properly. I was to busy believing that he'd been wrapped up into some kind of cult. Equanimity. What, no drama? Why would life be fun? I suppose I just wasn't ready.

So - perhaps when I go back from Edinburgh, I will be able stop off and see beautiful Esther Lilley and her Daniel, if they are free, and then Richard, in Leeds or Bradford. Maybe I'll even do a day in Keighley. Lordy.

I left the workshop with some lovely people in my life, plans to do exciting things with some of them, and lots of images and words and flowings with them. It's true that it's easier to see people's beauty when they make themselves vulnerable, when they open themselves up to try things. Beautiful. Humbling. Touching. I am softer for it.

I'm grateful, after all the struggle, for the energy-eating lady. She showed me how painful it is to live (and love - let's keep that typo in) from where she's living/loving. And how I'm not quite as Zen as I think I'd like to be. I rose to her and gave her what she needed to keep the attention flowing. I gave her fodder. I fanned the flames. I tried to be calm and clear and just set a clear request about what I needed from her (to be packed and ready to go when the taxi arrived to pick us up). It didn't go brilliantly, but she (from my perspective) was brilliantly rude, ending our conversation with a spat 'Goodbye!' in the middle of saying something.

I had her in my head a bit after that, and was out of my centre, not so smooth. But that's okay. I must have wanted that in some way. My frustration had been building since the beginning, really, and specifically since one bit of behaviour that appalled my sense of justice the day before. I could have let it go, and I chose not to. I don't regret it. I'm just looking to see what it was I was really trying to achieve.

One of my loveliest memories of this workshop wasn't even in it. It was this: the smiling, warm and talented mama of one of the course's organisers cooked for us. At every meal, our senses were met with an onslaught of refined flavours, textures and smells. All vegetarian and mostly entirely sugar-free. Today's dessert made me want to weep. And yesterday's. And every meal on every day. And everything with a smile. Listening to her chat to Bobby in Latvian made me very happy. Bobby didn't care. He went with it whether or not he understood.

At the end of our last meal cooked by her, when she came out of the kitchen, we gave her a massive round of applause, a standing ovation, even, some of us, peppered with whoops and howls. We clapped and clapped. Someone janged their glass. And lovely Latvian lady ran off into the kitchen with tears in her eyes.

I'm grateful. I'm grateful for all of this, for getting my blog back and being able to post, for having my own bed (starfish sleeping on the menu, big time) and for seeing lovely Kate at home. I'm grateful for a workshop that was everything other than quite what I expected, and very good for it. I'm grateful for all that honesty, from others and from me. And I'm grateful that tomorrow, I get to go to the pond. Can't wait. Can't wait. Can't wait.