Holidays, Feasts, and Miracles
Sunday morning, I woke up early to watch the Rhode Island sunrise - I brewed some lemon ginger tea, pulled my sweater over my head, and drove to Brenton Point State Park for a slow morning of gratitude. Waves crashed against the breakers as the twilight sky caught fire and welcomed a new day (pictured above). And as the light caught the distant parts of the sea, I saw three kayakers watching the sunrise from the water. Next time, I told myself.
Every day is a holiday. Every meal is a feast.
I’m not sure where I heard this first, but a quick internet search turns up a lot of information about the US Marines, so we can credit them with this simplistic but brilliant ideology that makes me get excited about the rest of their day. I’m not sure if I take the same thing from this saying as a US Marine, but it’s a reminder for me to appreciate the small things and seek out relationships and experiences that matter. If they let me add to their mantra, I’d go further to say, every moment is a miracle, a gift, even.
As I toss these ideas around, I think they boil down to a few things: presence and gratitude. We have to be in the world to be present in the moment; we have to go outside, take that drive, spend time with our loved ones, or just put ourselves out there to notice and receive. Celebration and feasting require that we do more than exist in the doldrums of our days, and gratitude requires that we create space to give thanks for our feasts and celebrations, and yes, even our doldrums. For me, this looks like asking God how I should spend my time, and thanking Him for all the good things in my life. Countless psychological studies have also shown that practicing gratitude leads to increased happiness (along with many other benefits), so it’s a win-win for me.
Later that day, the sun was still shining and the breeze was cool, so I went to Sachuest Beach with a book and a friend. Feeling the strong urge to just breathe and move and be, I abandoned my book for a stroll with my toes in the ocean. Singing and thinking as I went, I thanked God for this moment in time, for the saltwater breeze that tousled my curls, the sound of the waves against the rocks, the feeling of the sand as my feet made progress on the coastline, the way my healthy, well-fed body moved through space, the miracles of movement, weekend getaways, good friends and on and on. And so it went for a few hours.
But the beautiful thing is this: I don’t have to be at a beach to practice these things - it can happen on a normal workday during my mid-day walking break, or it can be reflected in how I decide to spend my time after I close my laptop, and it’s the same for you, too.
Today is a holiday.
This moment is a miracle, a gift.
So get out there and feast.
