33

It's my birthday today. For many years, I have held a little tradition on my birthday. At some point during the day, I take out my journal and write down the things I'm happy about and the things I'm not so happy about.

Almost always, the happy trumps the unhappy. 

Why even dwell on the unhappy stuff? It's not a matter of complaining; it's a matter of taking stock at this particular moment in time. When I write down those 'unhappy' things, I begin to see how fleeting they are -- or, if they're larger sorrows, how they're shaping me into a stronger, more generous, more complete human being. 

Gratitude is powerful, but so too is an acknowledgement of our dark corners, our shadows; without shadows, of course, there can be no light. 

I am 33 today. Though in all honesty, I started forgetting how old I was when I turned 30; most days I feel like I'm still 17: Slightly awkward, fiercely apologetic and independent, relentlessly seeking contentment. 

Here's the list for 33 -- the Bad and the Good. 

The Bad: 

1) Indecision. I'm working on this one. Deciding and sticking with it. But there are so many ideas! So many ways to be in the world (which is a gift, really; a veritable paradise of choice). 

2) Time. To little time to do it all, to try it all, to be it all. 

3) A harsh and hard world for so many people; why not me? Guilt over great gifts. 

4) My little dog, now gone. I miss him. 

The Good: 

1) My husband -- for too many reasons to count. He is upstairs right now, folding laundry on this sunny day because he knows that a clean home brings me contentment. 

2) My home. Even the weeds growing rampant are okay. Today I discovered that one of those 'weeds' was a rose bush, planted years ago with love. 

3) Time. To examine the rose bush, to clean the home, to pause and pet the cat. There is always time when we slow down enough to notice it. 

4) My 'tribe' -- Tribe is a term I've never really jived to, but I've got one in spades: Smart and loving sisters; parents who are my dear friends; that husband who's folding the laundry and the family he brought me into. 

5) My body. It carries me around on two strong legs. It takes the summer morning into my lungs. It sees and hears and tastes and feels -- I don't thank it enough. 

6) Good work to do in the world. Work that gives me the chance to make one small sphere a little less harsh, a little less hard. 

7) A sense, almost daily, that my little dog, now gone, is with me. He cheers me on still. 

See? There's more good than bad. We just need to look for it. 

Thank you for indulging me and reading this list ~ I'd love to know what's on your list! Leave a comment below. 

-Beth