The uncertainty of the COVID-19 pandemic has a lot of people feeling anxious and fearful. Practicing gratitude can help. KNAU listener Georgia Wagner works with the Center for International Education at Northern Arizona University and teaches workshops in crisis management. She says gratitude is a critical part of self-care during difficult times. In this week’s Poetry Friday segment, Georgia shares what she’s grateful for, offers us a quick exercise to turn fear into gratitude, and reads a poem by Pablo Neruda called ‘Ode to Thanks.’
Georgia Wagner: Things have shifted a little bit recently, and so now I’ve really been able to focus on my gratitude for my basic needs being met; things like food, water, shelter, access to technology, and the ability to stay connected with my friends, my family, my colleagues, continuing to be able to do the work that we’re doing. I’m really grateful for where I live and the access to nature that we have here and the ability to be able to get out and be mobile when I need to be.
So, if you’re looking for a quick exercise to help you tune-in to something grateful and shift your focus a little bit away from fear, there’s something that you can do really quick. I do this if I’m starting to feel any anxiety or uncertainty. It really helps to get grounded.
So, one thing that I do is just focus on one thing that I’m grateful for. Focus on it really, really, really hard, and try to tune everything else out, and just visualize that one thing. I let myself feel the love and gratitude in my whole body towards that one thing, or one person, or one experience that I’m grateful for. Then I take some deep breaths and imagine that that gratitude and love is expanding and growing, and with practice, you can feel it cover your whole body and you’ll feel like it’s radiating out of you and the truth is, that it probably is.
Today, I’m going to read a poem called Ode to Thanks, by Pablo Neruda:
Thanks to the word
that says thanks!
Thanks to thanks,
word
that melts
iron and snow!
The world is a threatening place
until
thanks
makes the rounds
from one pair of lips to another,
soft as a bright
feather
and sweet as a petal of sugar,
filling the mouth with its sound
or else a mumbled
whisper.
Life becomes human again:
it’s no longer an open window.
A bit of brightness
strikes into the forest,
and we can sing again beneath the leaves.
Thanks, you’re the medicine we take
to save us from
the bite of scorn.
Your light brightens the altar of harshness.
Or maybe
a tapestry
known
to far distant peoples.
Travelers
fan out
into the wilds,
and in the jungle
of strangers,
merci
rings out
while the hustling train
changes countries,
sweeping away borders,
then spasibo
clinging to pointy
volcanoes, to fire and freezing cold,
or danke, yes! and gracias, and
the world turns into a table:
a single word has wiped it clean,
plates and glasses gleam,
silverware tinkles,
and the tablecloth is as broad as a plain.
Thank you, thanks,
for going out and returning,
for rising up
and settling down.
We know, thanks,
that you don’t fill every spaceyou’re only a wordbut
where your little petal
appears
the daggers of pride take cover,
and there’s a penny’s worth of smiles.
(Music: Anji, by Simon and Garfunkel)
Poetry Friday is produced by KNAU's Gillian Ferris. If you have an idea for a segment, drop her an email at Gillian.Ferris@nau.edu.
