A Dialogue Between Brokenness and Gratitude

Brokenness speaks:  In the dark times, will there also be singing?

And Gratitude replies:  Yes, there will also be singing about the dark times.  (Brecht)                                                     

Brokenness:  None of us begins the day thinking, “well, today I will do the same stupid things I have been doing for decades, but it will all turn out better.”  None of us set out to deliberately repeat our history, but it happens.  The same themes seem to be replicated in some mysterious pattern, sometimes daily.  (Hollis)

Gratitude:  The medieval Christian mystic Meister Eckhart suggests that if the only prayer we say in our lifetime is “thank you,” that would suffice.

Brokenness:  A strong woman is a mass of scar tissue that aches when it rains, and wounds that bleed when you bump them, and memories that get up in the night and pace in boots to and fro.

Gratitude:  I asked God for strength, that I might achieve, I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.  I asked for health, that I might do greater things,  I was given infirmity, that I might do better things . . .    I asked for riches, that I might be happy,   I was given poverty that I might be wise.  I asked for power that I might have the praise of men,   I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God . . .  I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life.  I got nothing that I asked for — but everything that I had hoped for.  Almost despite myself, my unspoiled prayers were answered.  I am among all men, most richly blessed.  (prayer of an unknown Confederate soldier)    

Brokenness:  It’s not one damn thing after another.  It’s the same damn thing again and again.  (Millay)

GratitudeThe thing is to love life.  To love it even when you have no stomach for it, when everything you’ve held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands and your throat is filled with the silt of it . . . (Bass)

Brokenness:  At age 4, success is not peeing in your pants.  At age 12, success is having friends.  At age 16, success is having a driver’s license.  At age 20, success is having sex.  At age 40,  success is having money.  At age 50, success is having money.  At age 60, success is having money. At age 70, success is having sex.  At age 80, success is having friends.  At age 90, success is not peeing in your pants.

Gratitude: Okay, I know you’re scared to try again, and that you think this is all there is, but I’ve put up with your whining and carping long enough.  Let me tell you a story. The ancient myth of Sisyphus tells us that our friend Sisyphus, having offended the gods, is obliged to roll a boulder uphill, endlessly, and then to watch it roll back down the hill, endlessly.  The author Camus imagines that he can see the face of Sisyphus at the bottom of the hill, facing the futile task once again, but also imagines that finally Sisyphus is smiling  — and in smiling, Sisyphus chooses to push the boulder back up the hill, and therein is able to get his freedom from this perpetual task from the gods. A pragmatist might argue, “Hey, same hill, same boulder, same outcome.”   But, life is more than outcomes; it is also attitude.

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It’s a brand new shiny year!   Even in the face of all our brokenness, our shattered dreams, our losses, our disappointments, and the awe-full ambiguity of living in this particular moment of history on planet Earth, we are offered an invitation every moment of every day to “be our eccentric, different, perhaps strange selves, and to add merely our small piece, our little clunky, chunky selves, to the great mosaic of being” (Hollis).

We are alive! — broken, maybe, but alive — and to joyfully risk being who we truly are out of sheer gratitude for that gift of life is both our challenge and our privilege.  For some of us, that might mean risking “a talent, an enthusiasm, an imaginative summons” — for others, taking the risk of loving again — for another, stepping bravely out into the unknown.

Wisdom lies in engaging the life you have been given as fully and courageously as possible, and not letting go until you find the unknown blessing that is in everything.  (Remen)