todah

yesterday at the gym a woman approached me to ask all sorts of questions about my dreadlocks.  after drilling me for several minutes she announced that she would like to do a story on my hair for the local paper (of which she just happens to be editor).  a large part of me wanted to reject the idea, but for some unexplainable reason my new friend, Anelia, had a disarming effect and before i knew it i no longer had the option of backing down.  

she had so many questions - interested in every bead and every tattoo.  of course deep down, everyone enjoys getting to tell their stories, but i think the impromptu interview did more than give me a chance to talk about myself for a few minutes.  it reminded me of where i've been and the people who have been a part of my journey.  my weaknesses and hard times woven directly into my strengths and joys.  like kahlil gibran says, joy and sorrows cannot be separated, but are actually one in the same.  

it forced me to process and explain why i live the way i do - not seeking stability in any sort of material form, but rather a stability of the heart.  it reminded me of how i got to where i am today.  and it highlighted my hair as a wearable reminder of the people, places, and events who have shaped my path - some wonderful and some a bit tough - but all tools and lessons.

as we walked out the door she stopped and asked me about the red tattoo on my left wrist.  it states simply, "todah".  hebrew for sacrificial gratitude.  as i made my way home i realized that this thanksgiving was a perfect example of why i have it permanently inked onto my skin.  i refuse to be thankful for only the good, or even the good that comes from a rotten event.  rather, i'll choose to be thankful for the toughness, for the isolation, for the heartache - whenever it may come and from whatever source it may arrive.  someday i'll look back and understand that the faithfulness of the father rested even in those times.  whether physically represented or not, they too will become a bead or a dangle in the tapestry of my hair - a reminder that i'm on a journey and each day is new.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears. 

- Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet (on pain)