Table of Glory/Table of Gobbledygook

Crazy families notwithstanding, all of us sit to feast with a few odd-balls at Thanksgiving. Perhaps those around the table reflect back some aspect of self, warts, beauty, and mania. They may simply be metaphors or symbols for lives inside that cannot find expression within, except through another. When the obsessive auntie, or pedantic brother in law make us flinch and want to leave, consider what dis-owned part is being aroused to action this year. They only have power to drive us bonkers when they represent a part we haven’t loved, encouraged, or allowed into our parameter. If so, we could easily laugh and enjoy their fringe benefits.

Consider the options to not sitting down at all. What is the alternative to Joe’s dirty fingernails. OlePa’s snore over dessert. Maggie’s see through blouse with no bra. We always have choice to not show up. Yes, these choices bring ramifications, but consider if you had no family to turn toward, no friends with whom to lock arms, or lock horns, no home, no table, no turkey… no pie! Them apples are available.

We can also sit deaf and dumb year after year, thinking there is something wrong with everyone, never changing, never looking up from the green beans almandine. And once again we leave the family table anguished and angry, swearing never to return. Another fabulous choice.

When things got really crazy in our family, and they did, we served up small mirrors, and when someone behaved outrageously, we held up the mirrors so they might see themselves differently. Sometimes it worked, often it didn’t, but we laughed ourselves out of some bad places. May you do the same, as we lock arms, facing the future, counting manifold blessings, garbled and grace-filled.


Asana: Find the pose offering deep repose. Use it. Let the mat become your healing-agent, your own true home. Then that other home is easier, richer, and sweeter.

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