Between Gratitude and Despair!

When the road is long, and the way is fraught with hardship, do we remember gratitude?

It is difficult when hardship, loss and misery make us despair. Despair is a shocking feeling. It steals all light. It permeates the muscles of the face. It seizes the neck in a gripping vice. It makes the stomach sick, filling it with the sourness of no hope. Behind our eyes, we are sick with sorrow. We want to rub the skin off our faces, vomit the poisoned world, run, scream, escape, disappear into no-thing.

The precious fades, as though it never was. Despair makes the precious ridiculous. Despair crushes innocence. Despair is the saddest of human things.

What can possibly make us open once more to possibility?

Once the shock of despair has been breathed into every pore and has permeated all organs, it stops attacking. It settles, calms, has had its way, has poisoned the soul. Hopefully, instead of vomiting, we have cried the bitter sadness out of us. Hopefully, we are spent, bitterness spewed. In this twilight transition between dark and dawn, there is no more resistance  We are alone, without power, ravaged, reduced.

When all is lost, the heart, eternal flower that it is, begins a little flutter. Memories of the good and the beautiful filter through and bestow on the heart those tiny things for which we are grateful. Those tiny things keep the magic in the world alive. They may not seem like much in the scheme of things. They may be hard to acknowledge, as they do not solve problems. But they are sparkles of beauty powerful enough to light the dawn of a new day.

What sparkles of gratitude open your heart?

About Dr Niamh

When I was a little girl (a very, very long time ago), I used to love learning new, really big words like ‘discombobulate’. As I grew, my love of words grew too, until I loved them so much, I could not stop writing them down. One day, as I was scribbling a particular word, a very peculiar thing happened. The word shouted at me, “Stop! Don’t put me there!” As you can imagine, I was shocked and nearly fell off my chair. When I recovered somewhat, I said to the word, “Could you stop shouting, please? I am not used to it.” Can you guess what happened next? No! I thought not. The word said, “I might be small, but I will misbehave if you do not use me properly. I will not tell the story you would like me to tell. I will say something entirely different!” I dropped my pen. I hoped that by dropping my pen, the word would stop talking. Alas! It did not. It carried on chitterchobbling, even after the ink had dried. I was in a pickle. I could not allow my words to run away with my story, now could I? I don’t know about you, but when this sort of thing happens, there is only one thing left to do if you prefer not to spend your time arguing. “Very well,” said I. “I will do as you ask if you will just be quiet and allow me to concentrate.” Since that day, I have been paying special attention to every word I invite into my stories. After all, a story should say exactly what it means to say and not be led astray. With love from Dr. Niamh, Ph.D in Learning Through The Imagination and Founder of Dr Niamh Children's Books. www.drniamhchildrensbooks.com

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