Because it is not about what you do, it is about where you are coming from. How you relate.

When you face someone poor, destitute, broken, in need – how do you see him? How do you relate to her? As a victim needing to be saved? Someone less fortunate, less capable? Do you see a person that depends on you?

Or do you see a powerful, responsible human? Do you see a person whose choices you honor and respect? Do you see a peer? An ally?

Do you see an equal, a partner when you look into his eyes? When you do, you know what is there to be done for her. If there is anything to be done at all.

“I am not grateful really” I thought to myself in a bathtub this morning while planning the Thanksgiving dinner, the number of dishes and guests’ placement at the table. The inevitable “what are you grateful for” question would be inevitably asked and I Was going to be prepared this year.

“I am not grateful really” I realized “but I am happy”.

I am happy because the life is such a splendid thing, I am happy because I enjoy it. I am happy because I am free to roam this earth, to be where I wish, to do what I want. I am happy because there are limitless experiences, and I am free to experience them. I am happy.

I am happy because life is wonderful and because I see it, feel it and touch it. I live in it. I live in the wonder of life.

And I am happy for the friends that do it too.

“Ah, this is why I feel so unsteady, uncomfortable, unsettled …”

I drifted in the dark, warm predawn space, my mind has not awaken yet, but I have. Outside the sky lightened a fraction over the ring of mountains. French mountains, foreign mountains. There were Californian mountains beyond my window only a few days ago.

I sank deeper into myself, touched the feeling of dread and fear … “I don’t want to wake up … I will stay here, I want to stay here … why?”

The question floated out and in, gathered me and pulled me deeper into myself until I touched the raw center. “This is truth” I realized. This place is the truth of me, my existence, my being. Naked.

“This is why I feel unhappy” I saw, “it is not home I miss but some structure, some garment for this naked truth of me. The script written for my life, the background of culture, the landscape of society have changed and gone alien and I am forced here, into this center, into this raw, naked truth …

truth … not something that I know … something that I am … only what I am.”

“It is all here” I thought as I looked into his face. Focused, intent, serious. “How amazing that it s all here, he is all here. Right now”.

“He is on a journey” I thought, “on a quest for himself, on the path to himself. He will traverse the world, he will circle the globe. He will meet with dangers, with pleasures, with people. He will feel love and anger, he will face judgement and violence, he will know passion and fear, courage and bliss, and in all that he sees, in everything he meets, in everything he encounters he will know a piece of himself.

A little piece, an aspect, a side of him will reflect in every day, in every step, in every face.

He will travel, he will move, he will experience and he will relate, and then a time will come for the pieces to blend together, fit together, melt together, and he will see himself.

He will see his own face.

And he will know, in that moment, that he always wore it. That it was always here, all this time.

Right here.