Thanksgiving By Myself … But Not Alone
Today I was by myself for Thanksgiving. Circumstances didn’t work out for me to be with family, but I’ve enjoyed having a restful day. I made myself some mashed potatoes, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, cornbread muffins, and warmed up some roasted chicken I bought at the grocery store a few days ago. I also sauteed some canned green beans only to discover a rat turd in that skillet which had sat out on the stovetop overnight. (This was at someone else’s house.) Fortunately, only half a can of green beans was wasted and I warmed the other half in the microwave, thinking to myself “This day shall henceforth be remembered as the ‘Rat Turd Thanksgiving.’”
I did not even think of trying to deny my insufferable millennial habit and carefully photo-documented my full plate before sitting down to eat, “‘Tis The Gift To Be Simple,” sung by Alison Krauss, accompanied by Yo Yo Ma playing in the background.
And alone, in the quiet, I gently seated myself and attended to the words of the old hymn. “When true simplicity is gained, to bow and to bend we will not be ashamed. To turn, turn will be our delight, ’til by turning, turning we come round right.” I love this song. Well, obviously, I picked it for my Thanksgiving playlist. I have experienced what the words describe. Shaking off the terrible burden of vanity, arrogance, like so many dirty and ill-fitting rags, realizing a freer, cleaner, humbler self with which to engage the world. I have been practicing at this since I was a teen and the work continues.
I took my first bite, of the sweet potato casserole, feeling myself partaking with quiet and solemn joy in a ritual shared with millions. The fact that my version of the ritual this year did not include the essential element of family gathering somehow did not diminish my experience of Sacrament. I have celebrated with others many times–every year before this one, in fact–and I was remembering that, and I was holding in my heart those dear to me but not physically present. I experienced only a vague twinge of absence which was soon overtaken by a welling of the heart with the knowing of connectedness and the gratitude of that knowing.
I have often experienced meals, any meals, not just Thanksgiving, with reverent awe and gratitude for all the giving that has come together, making possible this moment of my receiving the nourishment that I need from life. I feel an awareness of those whose giving, through the growing and processing and transit and storing of the food, makes my life possible. I feel an awareness of the long history of humankind, the giving that has brought life to this point in time, of which I am a part. I am a recipient of so much giving, so much more than I can comprehend.
And I ate with a mind quiet and focused as solitude can allow, reflecting on the origin of this holiday. The starving English immigrants on whom the Wampanoag took pity, little realizing what a great and terrible enemy they were welcoming to their land. And the English settlers did not realize what they were doing, either. Mistakenly believing the land they took was not being used. Well, perhaps they were right that it was not being used; perhaps rather it was being honored in a careful relationship which did not overburden the land. But all the English saw was that it had not yet been despoiled by their civilization’s practices of intensive resource extraction.
The painful and deadly hunger of the Pilgrims strikes me now as both a chilling revelation of the driving force behind the explosive expansion of the American empire and a foreshadowing of what is yet to come. Surely the unchecked drive to amass wealth, to hoard resources will always, ultimately end in hunger and deprivation.
Because of our reckless exploitation of the land, we will return to the poverty of the Pilgrims. And now is a time to prepare for the coming winter.
I looked at my plate this evening and, without intending to, having some sense of what it might have been like, that cold, hard winter in Massachussetts, 1621. And I did feel the immensity of gratitude that hunger inspires. Real thanksgiving. And I knew as the English would not have realized, the tragic irony of the Wampanoag’s kindness, and how undeserving of this grace the recipients were, truly.
May this be a lesson, then, to us as the New Americans, from the Wampanoag of 1621, what it means to live honorably as peoples of this abundant land: to care for the needs of the desperate, whether they are deserving or not.
And I took another bite of stuffing and chicken, remembering hunger, cherishing this nourishing meal, recognizing how much more enjoyable life’s pleasures are, having experienced some deprivation. And I considered, as I often do, the present ecological-socio-economic crisis and how problematic it is to try to solve our problems by trying to force people to do things they don’t want to do. In fact, it’s such a problematic approach that even though it might seem to many people absolutely necessary to avert ecological catastrophe, politicians haven’t even really tried to make it happen. Forcing people to make changes they don’t want to make, that is.
Which makes me wonder how far we might get by trying to implement community-scale solutions that do not involve coercion at all. Solutions that involve creating sustainable/regenerative community that people would choose to be a part of because it actually makes for a happier life than mainstream living. Well, these experiments are happening already and I wonder about such attempts becoming a more culturally normative aspiration. And, moreover, I think a lot about how I can become a part of this movement.
Experiencing hardship, hunger, scarcity does not have to be all bad. A bearable amount within a life that is stable may actually make for a happier and more fulfilling existence. There are people who will choose this if given the opportunity. And as the status quo continues to break down and fail, there will be increasing numbers of people who find it appealing or simply no worse than the alternative.
So, happy Rat Turd Thanksgiving–well, it’s over and past now — I am publishing this over a week from when I wrote it and who knows when you’ll read it–but happy holidays and may you find time to contemplate the harsh demands of winter and what is and will be required to face them.
