Day 2622: I’m glad you exist

I’m glad you exist.

.

I’m glad my awesome bass-playing dentist, who sent me the message below, exists.

I’m glad I exist and could read this message from my dentist:

You’re doing something great and I’m glad you exist

I’m glad Rhys — the wonderfully welcoming, kind, and perceptive server at Junior’s in Times Square — exists.

I’m glad my iPhone exists so I could take all these other photos yesterday.

I’m glad hope exists in so many places.

Here’s “I’m Glad You Exist” by Nateybeats:

I’m glad the comments section on this blog exists, below.

I’m glad gratitude exists, everywhere I look.

Day 2512: Fortunate

Last night, before we were fortunate enough to see “Parasite” — an incredible movie about the fortunes of families from very different classes  — Michael and I got bubble-gum fortunes at a restaurant nearby.

While I wasn’t fortunate enough to get a comic and fortune that was cut properly, Michael was.

If I had been fortunate enough to get that fortune about being anxious to achieve something very important and succeeding, I would have greatly appreciated that view of such a fortunate future.

Earlier that morning, I was fortunate enough to capture the images of birds flying around and around our home, casting shadows on the blinds.

Are birds flying around and around  your home considered fortunate?  I was fortunate enough to find this online article about bird superstitions and myths.

Later in the day, I was fortunate enough to attend a beautiful memorial ceremony for my beloved colleague Deb Carmichael.

I believe all of us at the memorial service felt fortunate to have the opportunity to write down on those index cards our thoughts about our good fortune in knowing Deb, so we could share those with Deb’s family.

I felt fortunate when one of the speakers at the memorial service quoted something I often say:

The pain of the loss is directly proportional to the importance of the connection.

We were all fortunate to hear a song that Deb had personally chosen to be sung at her memorial service by a member of our shared professional organization and home: The Northeastern Society for Group Psychotherapy.  While you won’t be fortunate enough to hear that rendition today, here is the song:

 

I feel fortunate that I can share my other photos from yesterday with you, here and now:

 

Please be grateful for every fortunate moment we get to share together.

Love,

Your fortunate blogger

Day 2352: The black hole

Several times over the course of the Northeastern Society of Group Psychotherapy’s annual conference this past weekend, I heard people, in groups, refer to “the black hole” inside of them, which they were hesitant to reveal or explore.

That invoked, in me, memories of experiencing my own internal black hole, which I am trying to name, here and now.

My best guess is that the black hole is shame — the feeling that there is something fundamentally wrong with you.

The black hole can feel huge.

It can cause us to lose our balance, our tolerance, and our sense of cohesion.

It can turn us into stress balls.

It can isolate us even when we’re in a supportive group.

It can interfere with our leadership.

It can prevent us from diving in to new experiences and staying afloat.

It can make us feel unwelcome even when all the signs are that we ARE welcomed.

It can make us avoid parties and other social events.

It can make us feel lost.

It can make us want to duck and hide.

The black hole of shame can blind us to our own self worth …

… and blind us to the beauty all around us.

Here‘s “That Old Black Hole” by Dr. Dog.

The best we can do with our black holes is share them with each other and know that we are not alone.

Thanks to all who have helped me confront my own black holes over the years (especially the Northeastern Society for Group Psychotherapy) and thanks to you, here and now.