Happy Thanksgiving 2014

I just read my Thanksgiving posts for the last four years. I'm pretty proud of myself for putting those thoughts into words! Proud, but almost intimidated...by myself. What else could I possibly say to match what I've already said? Is there even any new approach I can take to honor this holiday?

I decided to start by looking at the word "thanksgiving." Time to visit one of my oft-used sites, Merriam-Webster. When not capitalized and in its simplest form, it means the act of giving thanks. OK, we kind of knew that without looking it up. So, how about "thanks"? We have kindly or grateful thoughts; an expression of gratitude. Now to check the definition of "gratitude": a feeling of appreciation or thanks; the state of being grateful. (I'm seeing a bit of a pattern here.) "Grateful": feeling or showing thanks; appreciative of benefits received; affording pleasure or contentment. One more. Let's look up "pleasure": a feeling of happiness, enjoyment, or satisfaction.

If I put those all together, thanksgiving is expressing appreciation for a feeling of happiness. 

I admit that's an informal, unscientific, subjective definition. But why not use a simple explanation for holiday that began in simpler times? If we strip away the list of "things" we are thankful for, we can get back to just appreciating what we enjoy and what makes us happy. Time with family and friends may make us happy. We may really enjoy curling up with a good book. A cardinal at the bird feeder makes me smile. Someone holding the door for me just to be polite is a little pick-me-up. 

We can be thankful for "stuff," and we should continue to thank those who give us "stuff." We can also be thankful for bigger things, grander concepts and ideas that give us strength or comfort. But we should also remember to just feel happy. Appreciate that happiness. Be thankful for what makes you happy. And don't forget to express your gratitude when someone else has helped you feel that way. Giving thanks will share the happiness.

Writing a little bit in my blog makes me happy. People reading my blog makes me happy. Thank you for helping me feel that happiness. 

I am happy to be thankful and thankful I am happy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving 2013
Thanksgiving 2012
Thanksgiving 2011
Thanksgiving 2010

Mutability

Though I may not have mentioned it here, I have still been trying to keep up with my reading habit. I finished one book I picked up at a thrift store, and it promptly went into my bag of items to deliver to a thrift store. It wasn't really bad, but it's nothing I will ever want to read again or recommend to anyone or offer a rave review. I suppose I could have tossed it aside when I realized it wasn't going to be as enjoyable as the book jacket implied, but I wasn't going to let it make a quitter out of me!

I figured it was time to look for a "seasonal" selection (much like when I started Dracula last Halloween, and finished it in January). I was about to pick a few from a thick collection of ghost stories when I remembered that I have a copy of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Like Dracula, I read it as part of what may have been my favorite college class...and haven't touched it since (except when rearranging the bookshelves). 

It didn't really surprise me that I didn't remember most of the actual story. I knew, of course, that the classic Boris Karloff film was only loosely based on the book but I'd forgotten just how loosely. It really was a fascinating story. I'd made just a few notes in the margins, so there was no risk of me missing the "important" points. It really is so much more than mad scientist, hulking brute, and angry villagers.

At one point in the tale, Victor tries to escape some of his misery by traveling through the mountains. (Yeah, like that's going to fix anything.) I'd underlined a line or two:

Alas! why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.

"We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep. We rise; one wandering thought pollutes the day. We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep, Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away; It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow, The path of its departure still is free. Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow. Nought may endure but mutability!"

Humans truly are more complicated than just basic instincts!

What really caught my attention, though, was the poem. I checked the footnotes and learned that it's part of the Percy Bysshe Shelley poem "Mutability." (Gee, I wonder how the author became familiar with that poet.) 

There are days we may feel like we're stuck in a rut. Same old, same old. Day after day of the usual stuff. But really, each day is filled with all sorts of wibbley-wobbley things! We may be weeping today and laughing tomorrow. It's said that that the only things certain are death and taxes. While it's true we can rely on them as being inevitable, I would add that the other "constant" in life is change. Seems like a paradox, doesn't it? The more things seem to stay the same, the more they're actually changing. And the "change" is what's really staying the same. (Kind of makes my head hurt to think about it.)

I don't see that as a bad thing. We think, we feel, and we change. It is part of our humanity. If I were writing an essay for a class, I might point out that the "monster" seemed to feel his share of joy and sorrow (as well as anger), so perhaps he was more "human" than he appeared. (But I'm not writing an essay, so I won't try to dig any deeper into that.)

I find myself surprised to have taken away something more than the usual simple pleasure of reading a good book. I think I'll stick with it and see what else I might discover when I least expect it. 

Actually, I did just finish Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson (another one from that awesome "Varieties of the Gothic" literature class). That was a lot better than I remembered, too. Time to pick the next book. Since my last choice was from my own shelf, perhaps I should change and get the next one from the library.

Mutability

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;

    How restlessly they speed and gleam and quiver,

Streaking the darkness radiantly! yet soon

Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:—

                                      

Or like forgotten lyres whose dissonant strings

    Give various response to each varying blast,

To whose frail frame no second motion brings

    One mood or modulation like the last.

                                    

We rest—a dream  has power to poison sleep;

    We rise—one wandering thought pollutes the day;

We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep,

Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:—

                                      

It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow,

    The path of its departure still is free;

Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;

    Nought may endure but Mutability.