On Gratitude and how we should make it cool a
When I first moved to Brooklyn in 2014, I lived in a tiny room on a twin mattress (no bed frame) with a window that sat about 5 feet from my neighbors (I kept curtains closed, v dark and mysterious). It did have exposed brick though, which I faced as I slept. I felt fancy.
I remember about 2 weeks into my move staring at the bricks and starting to cry. Like, ugly cry. I cried out of pure gratitude as I muttered “thank you, thank you.” I think I was thanking myself for hanging in, but also for so many people who made it possible and kept the City hanging in for me to arrive just when I needed to. I had always wanted to be here and it was finally happening.
I haven’t really felt that feeling in a long time, but I think about it often.
I recently began working at Visual AIDS, an organization I’ve had a crush on for a while now.
The other day I got an email from someone who had given money, thanking the organization for what it does, especially for long-term, female survivors.
At our holiday party, the facilitator of the Women’s Empowerment Art Therapy Workshops called me over, hugged me, and introduced me to every single lady who had come with her. “Ladies, this is Shawn.” And every single one of them came and hugged me or shook my hand. It was really overwhelmingly kind.
One woman called me over and said: this program has given me life again. It has helped me so much.
And we talked for a while and then I excused myself and cried in the bathroom a little. Because there was a kindness in the room I aspire to be around more often. And it hit me, unexpectedly.
On my walk to work the other day, I felt that feeling of gratitude again. Like I was exactly where I needed to be. And I was so glad it still exists. And I am hoping my fucking newsletter doesn’t jinx it.
A big part of moving to NYC was a desire to connect to queer communities and elders and people that lived in this fabled place* (a rat died in my wall the week after I cried out of gratitude, legendary). I had a friend a while back who used to leave out Prep and poppers for the “faggots of the past.” I haven’t forgotten this. Everyday I go to work I am surrounded by history, a literal Archive, and a reminder of who came before me and who is still here. As I was feeling gratitude, I asked that I do right by my queer ancestors and right by those still around. And then I CRIED AGAIN.
I have been doing a lot of healthy crying lately if you have not caught on.
Winter, especially “the holidays,” have been harder and harder for me as I get older (joints, feelings, knees [see: joints], distance from family [physical, emotional], cold). I tend to get sad. I also tend to get S.A.D. So I’ve managed to prep myself for what’s coming, try to stay warm, attempt slowness when I can, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh and make little memes and laugh.
Ramping up to Christmas (I said it), I got exceptionally sad, which was mixed into the deep gratitude and relief I have also been feeling (which is a weird combo).
I decided not to go back to Texas for “the holidays” as I usually do. And I was a little sad that I was not sad. And I was grateful that there were other options, and warmth and welcomes and care.
I went upstate with my boyfriend to fight the war on Christmas with his family. And it was very nice TBH. I do not come from a big family, and I do not live near the small one I have. But I was welcomed and fed and a few of them hugged me and told me they love me (wine? IDC).
And I felt gratitude again.
Which is a feeling I think has been cheapened by cheugy woodblocks with painted livelaughlove bullshit on them. But honestly, living, laughing and loving are very cool things to do! And gratitude is actually a pretty profound and connective feeling, one of the few that physically allows my feet to spread out on the ground and let me feel present.
Anyway, I have been feeling very grateful in spite of the sads and the fears and the little voices that love to trickle in when there is less sun. To them I say: I am living, I am laughing, and I am loving, you fucking assholes.
I got my first pair of binoculars (for which to bird) as a gift this year. And I am very excited. We drove to the Mongaup Valley Eagle Viewing Blind (a covered building where you can watch Bald Eagles without scaring them because they are sensitive. They’re just like me. Eagles are just like me!).
We met an older birder who sassed me for not telling him when I saw an eagle fly across the water, but JFC there was an eagle flying across the water. I just said wowowow.
We ended up seeing 5 or so, a few young ones, a few mature. Honestly, what a huge fucking slay. I teared up a bit because I was so excited. And I felt that gratitude again, that A. Things that have dwindled can come back when given proper care and space (and protective viewing structures so as not to disturb them), B. Sometimes people know exactly what you want, and sometimes what you want is what you need, C. Gratitude is kinda fucking cool, like, let’s make gratitude cool again.
I am very grateful for those of you who read this and who view my memes and who support my art and who are generally present in my IRL and URL lives. So, thanks. Happy New Year. I hope to hear from you soon.
xx Shawn
A few things to consider:
Support Visual AIDS: VA is in the last few days of a fundraising campaign, and it is my hope that in my new role I can steward new (lower and higher donors), bring new people into the fold who feel like they have stake in the organization, and help more people see the value in this work. If you have the capacity, consider a donation here.
Otherwise, please visit the website, follow on social media and sign up for the newsletter to stay connected.
ADMIN REVEAL: There have been some shifts in my Exponential Show, but it is now going to be something really fun. Check out the new project and get tickets here.