Jottings - Slice of life - 431 ( few personal meditations on thankfulness and thanksgiving)
Saying Thank you is not easy; I mean, really meaning what one says. The words roll out of our tongue mechanically, casually, a million times in the course of our lives, as an obligation, or as exciting a social contract. We are prone to unconsciously using thank you to maintain a persona. It makes us look cultured, well mannered, decent — civil perhaps. When we say it, we put on a gentle smile, the tone involuntarily becomes warm, mellowed, and ingratiating — giving the words an artificial touch of warmth and a sense of make-believe that the words emanate from the depths of our whole being when it only springs from the shallow depths of our vocal cords as a habitual reflex and nothing more. Half the time, our thank you seem to mean nothing at all except as a ploy to amicably conclude a conversation and move on to something else or cut short an awkward social meeting, or to lull someone into believing we genuinely appreciate their act.
In Modern times, thank you takes the form of a social media ‘like” or choosing an appropriate emoji from the hundreds of emoticons made available to us. Technology has relieved us of making even the minimal effort at showing genuine, deep-felt emotion. By posting an emoji, we have fulfilled our human contract. Not one, but many types of emoticons can now be shared, again, aiming to make the receiver feel that our thankfulness comes in many dimensions — a smiley, a rose, a thumbs up, and a kiss - what a delicious combination to make the other feel important, thanked and loved.
On Thanksgiving Day, I reflect on what it means to be thankful. Is thankfulness a commodity exchange? Is it something I give in return for something exchanged, or is it an expression of a priori feeling that makes the very human exchange possible in the first place. The French anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss talks about a simple ceremony in the cheaper communal restaurants in France. Strangers occupying seats adjacent to each other, will, as the first act of thankfulness, pour wine into the other’s glass before filling theirs. This act of gratitude is not in exchange for anything, but acknowledging the opportunity to break the uncertainty between themselves and dissolve the psychological barrier. Strauss beautifully writes “ This is the fleeting but difficult situation ( of strangers sitting at the table) resolved by the exchange of wine. It is an asserting of thankfulness that does away with mutual uncertainty”. The indication here is the non-verbalness of the act — which means the whole being participates and not just the lips. American poet Laureate Walt Whitman was once asked in 1884 on what he felt about Thanksgiving, to which the poet answered: “We Americans devote an official day to it every year; yet I sometimes fear the real article is almost dead or dying in our self-sufficient, independent Republic. Gratitude…. is indispensable to a complete character, man’s or woman’s—the disposition to be appreciative, thankful. That is the main matter, the element, inclination”. As always Whitman hits the right note. Thankfulness is not always about the act, but the proclivity, the inclination behind the act.
In America, Thanksgiving is a wonderful tradition, rooted not in any theological premise, but in the very essence of family and society. You give thanks to those who give meaning to your life. That is the beautiful idea of celebrating this day. In the good old days, when America was still an untilled land, and ambitious young men and women toiled far and wide to make a life and fortune for themselves, Thanksgiving was the day they came back to their nest, to meet with parents, with brothers and sisters, relatives and friends — and connect and say thanks for being there for them. It is a renewal of family bonds, an affirmation of human relationships, and a profound sense of thankfulness for all that life has offered thus far. In a way, each day is thanksgiving, but this day is a special reminder of how privileged we are to be alive in this delicate and fascinating universe.
Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers.
yours in mortality,
Bala
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