if everything I've been given is a gift, how can I honour it?
this cracker in my hand is a gift. how can I honour it?
this air I breathe is a gift. how can I honour it?
this cat beside me is a gift. how can I honour him?
this computer I type at is a gift. how can I honour it?
these fingers I type with are a gift. how can I honour them?
your time and attention are a gift. how can I honour them?
the snow falling to the ground is a gift.
the roof over my head is a gift.
the sun rising tomorrow. a gift.
my partner working tomorrow.
the food in the fridge.
the floor I walk on.
the stairs I ascend.
the cup of coffee I drink.
the drive-thru worker who served it.
the machine that made it.
the coffee that was ground.
the person who picked the beans.
the worker who bagged them.
the truck driver who transported them.
the money I paid for it with.
look around.
the green of that tree I just passed by. a gift.
the way all the cars move independently of one another and do not run into each other.
the way each person wants to get where they are going, but also must maintain the rules of the road for everyone's safety, in order to get there.
the rules of the road.
this car. the gas it takes to drive it.
the road that takes me home.
my home.
this moment.
this life.
this earth.
a gift.
how can I honour it all?
if I spend all my time wanting.*(all words in this post by me. image by FelixMittermeier from Pixabay)
Thank you for this beautiful reminder to practise gratitude, Shannon. Well, that's how I chose to interpret it anyway. x