A Glut of Gratitude

Amidst a kaleidoscope of lights, lasers, and disco ball sparkles, during a momentary lull in the body-soothing bass last weekend, I was asked, “What are you grateful for?”

Not a strange question given this was Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, or considering that raves tend to draw the kind of people who are happy to pose deeper, more thoughtful questions like these to people they’ve just met.

But given the setting, I was caught off guard in the moment—which I love, because that proves my answer was honest, heartfelt, and real. I mean… the switch from dancing to gritty, sensual bass music to thinking about gratitude is stark.

Two confessions bubbled out to be held by the warbling rhythms.

One was that I mustered the courage recently to lean into an experience I’ve historically frozen, shrunk, and contracted from. Details withheld because this is still fresh, raw, and ultimately something that falls more into the “just for me” category.

The second thing that came up was music.

In particular, for having made the decision to fully see and accept what’s really been a life-long obsession, then giving myself permission to actually go and do the thing.

The more time passes, the more music shapes, informs, and guides my life.

For the first time ever, I’m embedded into communities I feel at home in.

My social life has… well… I actually have one, also for the first time ever.

I have a passion, a pursuit, a craft that’s a perfect balance of learning and growth, flow and ease. Challenging and complex enough that I’m forced to push myself, while feeling natural and intuitive enough that the whole process stays fun.

And perhaps most meaningfully, music has led me to the bottom of the deepest well of self-expression I’ve ever found. Being able to create raw sounds from scratch that just feel like me is proving to be such a joy… and this is really only the beginning.

Now having had more time to reflect on the question and dig deeper, I’d also add:

Yuki and Moana. Enough said really, but the unconditional love that exists between the three of us often brings a tear to my eye. Being their steward is an honour and responsibility I don’t take lightly, and have already been forever changed by.

My car. The particular machine I chose allows me to elevate driving—which I love just as a human experience—into a form of play, self-expression, and emotional regulation. Despite, or perhaps because of, the risk, testing the limits in corners and whipping along windy, undulating back roads is so, so much fun. These spirited drives are soothing, grounding, and alivening all rolled into one. And the amount of control this car allows me to exert means every turn is me expressed in motion.

Where I live. Having lived in plenty, there’s a lot I appreciate about cities. Their energy. Their opportunities. Their cultural amalgamations, breadth of communities, interesting events, and always offering things to do. But where I live on the edge of a forest grants me a peace and pace of living that the foundation of my life rests upon.

I’m realizing I could go on and on and on, but that’s a large enough glut, I think.

If something has come to mind that you feel grateful for, you’re welcome to share.

With love from the cabin,

~ Alexander