Gratitude

Wanishi

I try to use the Lenape word for gratitude, wanishi, whenever possible – particularly when I’m talking to the spirits of the land, the trees, the fields, the birds, and all the other creatures that live around me. Ever since I learned the word this fall, I’ve sensed it resonates more deeply with and is heard more easily by the energies surrounding me here.

I wonder sometimes if there’s a deep bond between the original language(s) of this land and those whose ancestors, energies, and predecessors have lived here for millenia. It feels like the words of The People activate something beyond memory.

Anyway, my reason for referencing this word is because I just walked outside to stand on our porch and marvel at the soft voice of this so-called blizzard. I’m not taunting or in any way minimizing this snowstorm. I’m only describing my delight at the more gentle-than-expected nature of this storm, at least at the moment.

And while I was simply standing, watching, and listening to the snow fall, for the life of me, its voice reminded me of the word ‘wanishi.’ I swear, I heard it on the wind.

Now, why the snow or the wind would whisper that word, wanishi, to me is a total mystery. Maybe it just knew I would be writing about it tonight.

When I began this post, at the top of my mind was my gratitude for electricity (probably sparked – heh heh – by my eight hour experience without it on Friday). While I love the luxury of standing on my porch and listening to the whisper of the falling snow, I’m even more grateful that I can come back inside to my nice warm home. (Unlike Pacha and Brutus, who are snowflakes of a different sort and barely venture off the porch in weather like this, Cletus is grateful for his warm home, too! He knows all too well what it’s like to spend the night in the barn.) My heart goes out to any being, human or otherwise, who cannot find and enjoy shelter and warmth in this weather if they want it.

Pacha saying, “Nope. Nuh-uh. I’m going back in.”

Beyond electricity’s big and obvious benefits of providing warmth and light, there’s also the secondary bonus of the illumination it provides via the floodlight on the garage. That’s where I always look outside in the night when I want to gauge just how heavily or rapidly snow is falling at any given moment. It’s a little thing, I guess, but just like streetlights in the city, in storms like this, it’s a source of wonder and beauty.

This.

Right now.

As the clock ticks slowly toward 2:00 a.m. and snow falls steadily, relentlessly piling as high as possible before being knocked down by the wind, I feel cocooned in wonder and safety. I feel a yearning to allow time and circumstances to work their magic.

I feel a wish, deep down inside, that we could all capture this moment and hang on to it for longer than just tonight. It would be lovely if we could just be with the silence and inactivity for oh, I don’t know, maybe two or three whole days. No snowplows, no cars, no stores or offices open. I say this because I know as soon as the sun rises, people will be outside shoveling, snow blowing, and doing their level best to get back to the status quo.

I think that’s the most frustrating part of the next day following a wonderful storm like this. Why does everyone scurry to get things back to the way they were? Why can’t we just take a little bit of time to stop and look around at this cleansed canvas and perhaps dream a new reality? When snow blankets a place the possibilities feel endless. Maybe we should write those dreams down and breathe some life into them. Maybe everything around us – all the creatures we share life and breath with - are ready for the change we humans are terrified to make.

I wish more people could enjoy this blizzard and honor it as a call to slow down, stay inside, and go within. To those who must work in this weather, wanishi. Thank you for keeping the essentials running smoothly and for being there when we absolutely can’t do without your services.