Thanksgiving 2022 

Other years I have mentioned that today is a day about the past.

Instead of saying I am thankful for X, I want to see it in terms of awareness, and in some degree anger. Awareness encompasses more events than just positive ones.

I am aware of my family - my wife, our daughters, our two cats and two dogs. We are together, we have difficult and joyous moments. Moments that are just been near in a room, or never to far from a message, or driving somewhere in silence are enough.

I am aware of friends, who will jump to help us and will ask for our help if needed. Friends near and far in the internet, with who we will share jokes, quick comments and needs. Friends who we love.

I am aware of the grey areas and the complexity of human nature, I am aware I do not know everything, and that I need to constantly learn more.

I am aware and angry about transphobia, mass shooting, racism, anti-semitism, the desperate pledge of people in Ukraine and Iran.

I am angry at forced birth laws, rape culture, ultra-nationalism, colonialism and xenophobia, among many others.

So many it is hard to hold all of them.

I am aware of my privilege, that allows me to be just angry. Means I can get information, means I am (for most) at least a degree separated from the pain and harm they cause.

This anger is a drive to help, to become aware of the consequences on those who are targets. To work to ease and hopefully clear some of the pain and hate they receive.

So, I have awareness to be thankful for, and the embrace of all things that come with it.

Have a good Thanksgiving.

The Thread...

The thread of my life is one of many colors. 

It had a beginning I have no awareness of, a beginning that was the result of others threads. 

It has and end I am deeply aware of. When my spool will reaches its end, I will be no more. 

The thread is made of mixed fibers, some are soft and warm, some are sturdy or flexible, some will prick your fingers. 

Colors change as you go through it, some colors are muted or earthy, some are bright and warm, at times so bright they will burn your sight, or colorless like a fishing line. 

I cannot see the colors ahead, I can only see what was knitted behind. There are rough and tight knots, patterns that bring joy, patterns I have forgotten and patterns with invisible threads that were knitted even before I came to be. 

The best patterns, the ones with more meaning, are those  knitted with the threads of others. Some ugly ones were also created that way. 

I don't know what I will knit in the future. All I know is that when my spool runs out, I want to leave a beautiful pattern that some will see and others will use.