No turkey, but tapas

There’s no Dutch equivalent of our American Thanksgiving, but that’s not going to stop us from celebrating with a long weekend getaway. We’re off to Madrid, so our Thanksgiving dinner will include patatas bravas instead of mashed potatoes. It won’t be a traditional meal, but living abroad has taught me that the trappings of a holiday matter a whole lot less than the person with whom you share the holiday. This year, as always, I’m grateful for my generous, patient, and loving husband, who has made this adventure abroad possible. (And who will have his patience tested by the horrible Spanish I am about to unleash on the good people of Madrid.)

Many believe that gratitude is something that can be taught, or cultivated. I don’t think it is a natural state for most of us. And in difficult or stressful times, it can seem that we have little for which to be grateful.

I’ve written many times (too many?) here about David Whyte’s remarkable book Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words. I return to it over and over and always find just what I need, or just what I didn’t know I needed. Here he is on gratitude:

Gratitude is the understanding that many millions of things come together and live together and mesh together and breathe together in order for us to take even one more breath of air, that the underlying gift of life and incarnation as a living, participating human being is a privilege; that we are miraculously, part of something, rather than nothing.

It isn’t about cataloguing a list of what we’re thankful for – though that never hurts – but about paying attention and being alert to the wonder in the simplest acts of our lives.

Thankfulness finds its full measure in generosity of presence, both through participation and witness. We sit at the table as part of every other person’s world while making our own world without will or effort, this is what is extraordinary and gifted, this is the essence of gratefulness, seeing to the heart of privilege. Thanksgiving happens when our sense of presence meets all other presences. Being unappreciative might mean we are simply not paying attention.

Wherever you are on Thanksgiving, whether you’re celebrating or not (or wishing you were) I hope you’ll join me in an effort to pay attention, and to cultivate a sense of presence. Although my seat at the table is far away from family and friends, I am grateful that we are all part of each others’ world.

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Happy Thanksgiving, America

It is a clear, crisp November morning. Sunny, for now, though it’s early and clouds are inevitable. In a few hours most of the east coast of America will wake up and, groggy, pop a turkey in the oven and start preparing that most American of meals, Thanksgiving Dinner.

In Amsterdam, it is an ordinary Thursday morning. The minds of the Dutch – children especially – are focused on Sinterklaas and December 5th.

And so we make our own holiday this year. No attempts to find or buy a turkey, no “orphan dinner” with other expats, no pumpkin pie, no Macy’s parade. Instead, we’ll be heading to the airport and hopping a flight to Malta. No real reason to go to Malta, except that it’s there, it’s close, and it’s warmer than Amsterdam. We’ll spend Thanksgiving wandering around a place we’ve never been, together. We’ll have dinner at a brasserie. Or maybe Italian. Tomorrow we will be more adventurous and spend a day at the Maltese Falconry Center. Black Friday indeed.

Wherever you are today, wherever this finds you, and whatever you’re celebrating, may it be a wonderful day. If you can read this, if you are somewhere warm and dry, if there’s food in the fridge and some money in the bank, if friends or family are within reach, then there is reason for gratitude and thanksgiving.  Today. Every day.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.