Thanksgiving

This post is coming three days late because I actually have little to say about Thanksgiving. This is not to say that the meaning of the holiday itself is unimportant. On the contrary, I believe Thanksgiving's message of appreciation and humility is essential to living a satisfied life.

And yet what more is there to say about this holiday? I could write about the things I'm thankful for. Or perhaps I could muse about how everyday should be Thanksgiving, and how ungrateful I have been throughout the year. These are all good exercises to be sure. At this point though, I wonder if you, my reader, are getting as tired of hearing these messages as I am?

This is starting to sound a bit cynical. I guess what I mean to say is that messages derive much of their power from real experience, which is more often than not difficult, and even grueling. Thus, in lieu of an uplifting anecdote, here's a series of somewhat depressing, yet more interesting ones.

My Thanksgiving vacation presented me with three different observations from three different stories. The stories are the following: The story of the pilgrims, the story of us, and the story of a woman.

On Thanksgiving night, I encountered an interesting sermon while I was in church for a Thanksgiving service. I won't recount all the details here, but what struck me was a focus on the original founders of Thanksgiving: the Pilgrims. What struck me about the pastor's message was the focus how the Pilgrims derivred joy and thanksgiving from within tragic death counts and difficult toil to get meager food supplies. Thanksgiving was a holiday born out of a group that had suffered, and yet gave thanks anyway.

On Black Friday, I encountered another story from my own sister. This was the story of us (she is a Taylor Swift fan, but no, this is not a reference.) As we stood in line with the freezing wind pounding our eardrums, she reflected: "Who decided to put Black Friday right after Thanksgiving? It's like, one day we're all grateful for what we have, and the next we're all like, 'I WANT I WANT I WANT!' Though at the time I had little to say in response, I realize now that this was indeed a fascinating observation. What does it say about us as a society?

Today is Sunday, the final night of Thanksgiving break. This morning, I was told another story, a story of a woman. This woman was the recipient of numerous government safety nets, including food stamps, free classes at a local community college, and even numerous paid for social workers. Alas, this individual does not acknowledge the grace of her fellow taxpayers, and even repeatedly complained about her new social worker who refused to buy her lunch. "Disgusting!" you say. Well, I did too! And yet if we think about it more, how often are we the very same way? Especially as a young student, I have been given practically everything in my life. And yet I still have the nerve to complain. Disgusting.

Three stories:

-Pilgrims

-Us

-Woman

In an unexpected way, this Thanksgiving break has taught me to reflect more on what Thanksgiving means. 

Yes, it is good to be thankful. But Thanksgiving started in light of tragic circumstances and difficulties. Can I also be thankful in those situations?

What does it mean to purchase goods and to want? Is this desire to save money a practical affair? Or is it a manifestation of the very opposite of the force we have just been celebrating a couple hours ago?

And finally, can I judge my fellow humans for their lack of thanksgiving if I lack it myself? Thanksgiving is not some isolated affair. It means we must realize the thanks (or lack of thanks) that others give as well, and perhaps in that assist both them and ourselves in this "daily exercise."

Or perhaps you saw these stories differently?

Loser

I've always been a pretty competitive person. Yeah, that's a pretty general statement, but I don't think I've ever read an in-depth reflection as to what that really means. It's a trait that is often thrown out there, as though its connotation speaks for itself. Whether it is perceived as positive or negative is often related to the "competitiveness" of the listener him/herself.

But what does being competitive really do in the grander scheme of one's character? I've found the answer is quite a complex one. How one's competitiveness manifests itself in his/her character is actually quite personal. For some, it can be an asset, a persona within a vast array of paradigms to adapt to specific situations. It is equally possible that the competitive drive is one of intense passion, a fire so hot and strong that it must be repressed in everyday life, so as not to alienate people in one's everyday interactions.

Ironically, I think my competitive drive has manifested itself to make me a loser. It sounds absurd doesn't it? Shouldn't a competitive drive create a winner? And if not a literal winner, at least one who always strives to be one? Allow me to clarify.

I say "loser" without any condemnation. After all, every winner begins as a loser. It is only through repeated failure and lessons that one eventually becomes masterful at anything. Of course, this is standard inspirational quotation stuff, but truly, there is a beauty in losing gracefully isn't there?

Whether I win or  lose at something, usually a game or argument, I feel a kind of wonder as to the system I have taken a part in. If it's a game, it's the rules and structures. If it's an argument, it's the sheer action of two people bringing abstract thought to fruitful conversation.

Ah, but debates are not always fruitful. Games are not always fair. Therein lies what I've identified to be a key fuel in my competitive spirit. I am relentlessly critical of systems and their balance. If a game is not fair, I will fix it, or if I can't, explain very thoroughly why it is unfair, often to the chagrin of my fellow players. If there is possible bias in an argument, I will find it and address it immediately.

There's a great strength in this tendency, and also a great weakness. For example, it requires a great deal of expertise of the system in question to be able to critique and not look like a rambling fool. As such, I lose confidence in both my own abilities and in the game itself if I fail to understand it, or can't foresee myself understanding it. I don't think I need to delve into why this could become an enormous problem if it is repeatedly indulged.

I certainly didn't mean this to be a diary of self pity, so I'll conclude with this. Being competitive to me, means finding justice in a competition. And if I succeed in doing so, then I find I can applaud any outcome. Though winning is sweet and I will do everything possible to achieve it, losing is humbling and enriching. In defeat one sees his/her own weakness, and grows stronger and even closer to his/her fellow participants for it.

I will always strive to be a winner. But you know, I don't mind being a loser either.

"How are you?"

I've been making a note of how conversations start for the last couple of weeks. Without a doubt, "How are you?" is the most common greeting question I've asked and been asked. It's a pretty sensible question for that purpose. Asking it shows that you care, and it also invites the other person to talk and share how their life is going.

Of course, the inevitable answer of "good" rarely conveys any actually useful information about how someone is feeling. This opens the door to further inquiry, and yet I've found that this potential rarely comes to fruition. Rather the question tends to fall away as a mere transition into conversation, rather than as a topic itself.

Thus over these last couple of weeks, I've been trying to switch to a new greeting. "So, what have you been thinking about?" It's simple, just as easy to throw out, and has a greater potential to generate some actually meaningful conversation.

But more often than not, the standard question still comes up.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Good."

For a long time I disdained this sequence for its fakeness. Surely, we are not always "good" and we even know this of the other person. Yet the cycle continues, as what was once a possible sign of empathy becomes just an inefficient "hi."

And yet today as I reflected more upon this standard conversation starter, it has suddenly taken on an unexpected beauty.

As with many of my thoughts, it began with a sort of paradox. I am not always "good" when someone asks me this question. And yet that leads to the question, "why not?"

Because I have homework and papers? Or a long work shift tonight?
Perhaps I couldn't fall sleep? Maybe I've been sick?

And yet I am alive. I have a loving family. I am young. I have time. I have food. I have clothes. I can attend university. I have friends who I can laugh with and trust. I know a God who died for me.

My life is good.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Good."

In a sense, this short exchange validates this thanksgiving. Despite any trials we go through, we acknowledge that life is still good. Of course, we're not always actually thinking about this as we say "good." Usually it's just a mindless, pre-conditioned response. I know it sure is for me.

And yet perhaps if I just gave it an ounce of thought afterwards, I would realize that it's not quite as mindless and fake as it seems. In my human weakness and foolishness, I may truly believe that I am not well.

But I am. Perhaps a reminder of that is just what I need to start every conversation.