Thanks

(This is an excerpt from our upcoming zine, which will include several poems, drawings, painting, woodcuts, and short stories compiled by Commoner as a literary companion to our album!)

I had a friend who kept a notebook she coined her “Happy list.” She’d write in numeric order anything she could think of that brought her joy. The items in her Happy List weren’t necessarily listed in order of importance or happiness level, but just as she experienced them or as they came to mind. I eventually started my own Happy List. #215: Morning Fog.

As time went on, I realized that these items in my list were so much more than autonomous fragments with the association of temporary happiness. #37: The First Sip of Coffee. These were pieces of a unified portrait of joy, crafted by a glorious Creator. This Creator, who knit me together as a tapestry and reached into the vacuum of my chest to pump-start my spirit, knows every single corner of my life. He knew the things on this list before they were written and He knows the ones that won’t be written for years. #93: The Crunch of Leaves. He made me so that these things would bring me the joy that bids me record every note. This realization turned my happy list into a register of Thanks, and that became much more important. #147: Bubble Wrap

So I went and bought a Moleskine® notebook that would fit neatly into my back pocket, and a Micron® pen that I could carry on me at all times. This record of thanksgiving must not be something I do, but someone I am. It is to be a part of me, and a part of my life. #224: Pomegranate. I carry it with me everywhere to combat the poison of entitlement with joy and gratitude, and it is having a profound effect on my life. When thanksgiving becomes a language that we speak, rather than a ritual that we infrequently practice, we begin to wear it. It becomes a lense through which we see the world and in doing so the world becomes infinitely more beautiful. #94 Watercolored Sunsets. Introspection is a disease that leaves us empty, but when we fix our eyes outwardly upon the joy that is set before us, our short life on earth becomes a theater of God. Each twist and turn on our journey calls us to notice the details, for it is in the details that we see God’s character. #126: Folk Music. It’s the first day of spring, when you look out upon the dreary, snow covered ground but then hear a bird singing from atop your chimney. It’s when you find the solitude within the chaos. #12 Coffee Shops. Friends, don’t miss out on what’s in store for you.

And when the sadness seems a sickness endlessly, I hope you find your bird in the chimney.