The thing about gratitude is, you can never give enough of it. On Monday, we honored those who gave so much of themselves that they are no longer with us. Their selflessness and bravery is astounding. Thank you to all who have served.
Gratitude is often beyond words. Yet it is still important to name them, to state out loud: I am grateful for my health, for my family, for the roof over my head, for a job that I love. If you say it with feeling, it has the effect of filling your cup. It forces you to be present, if even for a moment, and to understand that this is it. This is life and you better not squander it.
Then the anxiety and self doubt can creep in. My husband is going through this right now. He has said to me several times recently that the contentment he feels can’t possibly last. Everything is going so well, it’s bound to come to a screeching halt. I don’t think that way myself but find his cynicism charming (mostly). To him, fearing that it can all be taken away in an instant is a necessary part of the cosmic balance. To me, I just can’t operate well if I’m always worried that the other shoe is about to drop. I find it joyless and debilitating. So I made my husband watch that scene in Parenthood (1989) where Grandma tells Steve Martin and Mary Steenburgen her rollercoaster story: “When I was 19, Grandpa took me on a rollercoaster. Up and down, up and down. What a great ride. I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn’t like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.”
Last week marked my two year anniversary at Triplemint (soon-to-be The Agency). I came on board in May of 2020 during lockdown, at a time when we faced paralyzing uncertainty in our business. I was nothing but a talking Zoom head telling my agents that everything was going to be alright. And what a wild ride it’s been, from not knowing if and when we would be allowed to show property again to the frothiest real estate market we have seen in decades. The ride has been extreme—a stand up, high speed, loop-de-loop roller coaster that has pumped us full of endorphins and left us breathless, begging for more. Now we’ve gotten back in line to go again, but the line is long and slow and we are waiting in the hot sun and getting cranky and bored.
We study the twist and the turns of the coaster and see the pattern, the design intent. It changes our perception of the ride. So we start chatting with others in line and make new friends. We buy drinks, pull up lawn chairs and make the most of it. We might as well enjoy ourselves. Night falls. Someone lights a grill. Children catch fireflies. Music begins to play. And suddenly, we’ve forgotten what we were waiting for. The rollercoaster line morphed into a block party while we weren’t paying attention. People come and go. They swap stories and share food. There’s a spontaneous dance party. Eventually, the night grows quiet. The music stops. It’s time to get some rest. We don’t need to get back on the ride right now. We are grateful that we experienced it and gained so much along the way.
Until next week,