Caroline Myss
I am not really a sentimental person but I am someone who appreciates the symbolic meaning of the events of our lives, among them our holidays and holy days. Thanksgiving is certainly among our most favorite holidays. I don’t get why people put up those huge inflated turkeys in their front yard that blow over within five days and end up looking like deflated hot air balloons, but I guess that’s just part of suburban life. (I mean, I really don’t get that. I could barely blow up balloons when I was a kid…)
Call it my last sentimental habit, however, but Thanksgiving does trigger that automatic response mechanism: What am I thankful for this year? And what I am always thankful for? (And who is it I should be thanking???)
First on my list this year are my friends and family. The older I get, the more I value the delicate and very precious gift of life. During these past two weeks, I experienced one of those horrid scares, the nightmare of a dear friend going into the hospital, into the unknown. The days of waiting to find out how bad a condition is and what then, are dark and dim, lonely and frightening. All the good times with this person flash through your mind, followed by, “This can only be just an extreme case of this or that and nothing more.” The medical intuitive in me hits the madness button, not an unfamiliar place when it comes to loved ones. I should be able to protect the ones I care for the most with the same clarity I have when it comes to strangers who ask for my help – but for some reason, I’m blocked. Or I blocked myself. I just don’t want to know what’s coming when it concerns the people I love the most. Call it the human heart in me.