A Thousand Reasons: Canto XI

{79} Thank You, God, for making man a storyteller. I love to see, peering back, how this has always been—how it always will be. There is a bit of my soul that flutters in excitement, imagining Adam and his sons around a campfire, sharing stories and telling tales.

{80} Praise God for the greyness of morning. I am never not happy, when I take the time to notice the way the world looks when I wake: how everything is alight with a sort of dim glow. Soft. Elegant. Magical.

{81} Again I find myself grateful, endlessly, for music. But today, to be different, I shall say my gratitude, specifically, for the variety. Variety in instruments, in moods, in artists. I love how the same structure of vocal chords can make such different sounds. How I can recognize the artist the instant they open their mouth: how the fluctuations and tones of a voice can be as individual as a personality. And I love them all, from the deep, lucid tones of Yoann Lemoine to the high, soft fluttering of Regina Spektor.

{82} For chances. Chances to rise to the occasion, putting forth everything at my disposal. Chances to welcome others home. Chances to exert myself, throwing all my bodily strength in a way I did not, for so long, understand to be a joy.

{83} Thank You, Elyon, for sisters. Blood sisters: the ones that have always been and always will. They are such a warm, solid permanence to fall back upon, for all things. But also for acquired sisters: the ones that were given to me along the way and which it is such a joy to get to know, to revel in, to treasure.

{84} Praise God for survivors—the people we can look to with hope. The ones that survived the illnesses that have taken others away from us. There is something soul-saving, in seeing the little girl on the road to healing from cancer. And the ones that survive the nonphysical: the loneliness, the trials. The ones that are a little older than you and have felt some of the things you feel. The world seems to alight from behind, making a warm breeze that you could rise upon, when the survivor smiles and you, holds out their arms to display, and says without saying: "See? I'm still here."

{85} For health. I say it with longing this time, sitting among the used tissues and still clogged sinuses. But I say it genuinely, feeling the strength come back and rising on that lifting, excited feeling. I am almost back—almost there.