Anna Redsand

A few years ago, just before Thanksgiving, I heard a Diné man say that he was bewildered by the fact that in America we devote a single day to Thanksgiving. He said, "In our tradition, every day is a day for giving thanks." In 12-Step programs people who are feeling depressed about getting clean and sober are often advised to make a list of things they are grateful for. It's called having an "attitude of gratitude," and people are reminded that it is hard to be depressed while you're being grateful.
 
Around the time I heard that Diné man speaking in a radio interview, I started a daily practice posting three things that I was grateful for on Facebook (I was still on FB then). I hoped that it might catch on and go viral. I thought if it did, it could help to change the world. I do believe that if millions of us are being grateful and sharing our gratitude with others, the world will be transformed. It is not only difficult to be depressed when you're being grateful; it is also difficult to be mean or angry or violent. Think how the world would change, if gratitude helped to keep us from harming ourselves and others.
 
Many years ago, I read the story of an adopted child who had been severely abused and neglected. He had been left for days in a cellar with only bread and water to eat and drink. Rats were his only companions. Despite the loving care he received in his adoptive family, he remained understandably angry. He was mean to other children. The rest of the time he withdrew from everyone around him. His new mother gave him a calendar and asked him to write in each square one thing he was thankful for. For weeks he wrote nothing. Then one day, he wrote, "Teacher let me." His mother asked what that meant, and he said his teacher had let him pass out the milk in class. His recognition of that one positive event became a turning point for him. It wasn't that nothing positive had happened before, but on that day, he recognized it and was thankful. He began filling each date with something he appreciated, and his relationships with others began to change.
 
Practicing an attitude of gratitude and going one step further by sharing my gratitude with others had the effect of making me more aware throughout each day of the large and small things I was grateful for. Most of the time I found it was the simple things that I could otherwise easily have taken for granted—warm showers, a delicious breakfast, my truck that worked as soon as I turned the key, a beautiful sunrise, colors, laughter, naps, and rain. Other times it was something I might not be happy about at first—like several hours of insomnia. But I realized I could be honestly thankful for that because, in my tossing and turning, I got an important idea for the book I was writing at the time.
 
There were times, of course, when I didn't (and still don't) feel grateful for anything, but my a commitment to naming things I was grateful for pushed me to think of things I could be grateful for. In 12-Step programs, this is called "acting as if." Acting as if I am thankful, even when I don't feel thankful, can actually change how I'm feeling. At these times I often think of some of life's most basic gifts—that I'm alive, that my family is safe, that I have a house to live in.

When I was doing those daily posts, one of my friends told me that she'd been inspired by them. She said she'd seen a centipede on the porch, and she hates centipedes. "Then I thought of your posts," she said. "I realized that I can be thankful because centipedes eat insects, and also because this one was outdoors, not in the house." Some people did start practicing gratitude posting. Other friends, even ones I didn't know except online, were reading my posts, and might comment out of the blue, "I love these posts." I thought, "Oh good. I was privileged to give someone joy today, and they even told me about it."
 
An attitude of gratitude is a powerful agent for change. Sharing what I am grateful for can remind others of what they have to be thankful for—sometimes in a day or a week filled with problems. Mostly, being grateful changes me and how I look at life, even more than it changes others.
 
The fourteenth century German theologian and philosopher, Meister Eckhart, wrote, "If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice." He and the Diné man who said, "Every day is a day for giving thanks," were onto something big.
 
This post appeared in the Gallup Independent a few years ago and has been updated in the hope that all of us in this season will be reminded that an attitude of gratitude is a powerful change agent every day, year-round.

Recently the Museum of Danish America, where my daughter Cheyenne is the Archives Manager and Outreach Associate, received the donation of 41 original letters from Christian Peter Andersen, a Danish immigrant and Union sergeant in the 6th Volunteer Missouri Cavalry, to his immigrant sweetheart, Annie C. Jessen, (later married). Cheyenne was the one who accessioned the letters, and she knew I might be interested in translating them. Translation is like solving puzzles, in fact, it often literally requires puzzle solving. It also draws on my linguistics background and my skills as a writer. I love doing it, and it's also a lot of work. These letters are in Danish, in faded Gothic script, which is challenging for a first-language speaker of Danish to read, let alone for a second-language speaker like me. 

 

Enter Anders Bo Rasmussen, Associate Professor of American Studies at the University of Southern Demark (SDU) and author of Civil War Settlers: Scandinavians, Citizenship, and American Empire. Because the intersectionality of Scandinavian immigrants and the American Civil War is a specialty area for him, I thought he could be interested in what the letters might teach us about the Civil War and that period in history through the words of a specific soldier. I thought Anders and I might collaborate in a transcription/translation project, in which he would do the transcription and I would do the translation, as translation can best be done by a native speaker of the language into which the work is being translated. Anders and I met at a conference this summer and agreed that we would like to work together. 

 

We had already started by using this process with a sample letter, the first page of which appears above. It was important to know if these letters were simply romantic communication, or if they were of historical value. It was clear from the sample that, although there was certainly romance involved, coming from the battlefront, they contained a soldier's views on military engagements and also advice to his beloved about how the war could impact her personally. 

 

Because the translation would involve a tremendous amount of work, I decided to apply for a Bodtker Grant from the Danish American Heritage Society to pay for my work. Anders was on board with the project and would not need to be paid because he would be on salary at SDU and would not have teaching responsibilities next semester.

 

This morning, when I opened my laptop at 5 a.m., I was greeted by the news that I had received the requested grant! I'm grateful and excited. We will be starting work in January, and I look forward to keeping you updated from time to time. One requirement of the grant is that I write an article that can be published in the historical society's journal, The Bridge. Anders will also write an article. 

 

The war between Israel and Hamas brings untold pain, death and destruction to people in such varied positions, including us who are physically far removed, and there isn't much good to be heard. In the midst of the devastation, I was heartened by a New York Times article telling the story of New Ground, "a nonprofit fellowship program that has helped more than 500 Los Angeles Muslims and Jews learn to listen, disagree, empathize with one another — and become friends." Run by Aziza Hasan, a Muslim with Palestinian roots and the associate director, Andrea Hodos, a devout Jew who spent her post-college years living in Jerusalem.

The women describe their relationship as much deeper than that of coworkers. "Aziza is like a sister to me," said Ms. Hodos. "She is family."

"We're so connected," said Ms. Hasan, "that sometimes Andrea can complete my thought or start a sentence and finish it for me."

On October 15, a week after Hamas's attack on Israel and a week before this article appeared, Hasan and Hodos met with a circle of other Jews and Muslims, all members of New Ground, in a Los Angeles park. The meeting began with Ms. Hasan speaking of loved ones who had died in Israel and Gaza, then quoting from the Quran, asking God, "Show us the straight way, the way of those whose portion is not wrath and who go not astray." Then Ms. Hodos sang a Hebrew song and translated it, "On my right side is Gabriel, God's strength, Behind me, God's healer, Raphael. Above my head is God's divine presence." Following this dual introduction, the New Ground group in the park broke into small groups that shared their fears, their losses, their love.

One thing that struck me about this story was how these two women began their life-changing friendship––which has reached out to encompass many others in peacemaking and understanding through honest listening and telling––long before the present war that has so impacted them began. It tells me something about how important friendships across differences and disagreements are to the healing of our world––to tikkun olam, to use the Hebrew phrase. And that we can and must make this effort before such devastating tragedy strikes because then we will have the foundation that can take us through the great troubles that arise.

Writing this brought me up short as it occurred to me that I need to make such an effort with one of my brothers. He reached out to me a couple of weeks ago after a long silence. It was yet another overture to turn me from what he considers ways that will lead me to eternal destruction. Hell, in other words. I'm so over all this that I don't feel I can engage with him and other family members on the intersectionality of my sexuality and religion. But if I'm so affected by the story of these Jewish and Muslim women and how they come together for support and deep conversations, walking through the fear to friendship, shouldn't I be at least willing to try with my brother, with whom I share family ties and a history of once having a close relationship, at one time spending every single day of our lives together? We've tried unsuccessfully before, and I know we need some agreement about how to go about it, so I hope we can take a page from New Ground's values, placing curiosity over assumptions, relationships over beliefs, for a start. 

After the attack on Israel, Ms. Hodos was reeling. Her son's friend had been taken hostage. She received a text from Ms. Hasan, "How are you holding up?" Then Hasan expressed anger that these actions had been taken in the name of God. She texted her fears that there would be violent retaliation and loss of innocent lives. Then, " I love you. I am sorry."

One of Ms. Hodos's fondest memories is of the two friends making cookies together in her kosher kitchen––pinwheel cookies from an old Palestinian recipe.

 

I've linked to the NYT article, but if you don't have a subscription, you may hit the paywall. If you want to read it, let me know in the comments, and I can probably share it with you directly.

How does this post touch you personally? Please share in the comments.

 

Fertile: An Anthology of Earth Poems and Prose from the High Desert and Mountains of the Four Corners Region is a unique literary arts project, envisioned and midwifed by Sonja Horoshko, a journalist and visual artist from Cortez, Colorado. Twenty-three published writers, including yours truly, were invited to speak love to our memory of the topic––Earth in all her abundance and endangerment. The works in this volume, published in 2023 by Fourth Corner Press, are as diverse as the authors,  evidenced only in part by the occasional code-switching among English and other first languages, among them: Diné (Navajo), Haak'u (Acoma), Spanish, and Mvskoke, sometimes translated to English, sometimes left to the reader's understanding. As Sonja writes, "Collectively, the impact of reading the poems and prose slows down our comprehension rate on purpose to give the gift of contemplation to those who regard the natural elements as blessings."

 

***

 

About being part of Fertile, Michael Thompson (Mvskoke) relates: "Why I am so honored to be included in this collection is the amazing rigor and passion every writer brought to his or her contribution. Every human being has countless intimate memories of this earth. The natural world, in all of its splendid fecundity, has been our nursery, our school, our laboratory, our ceremonial ground, and ultimately, our home, regardless of whatever individual identity we might claim. If you ask empathetic writers to write of their love for earth, you should expect their best. That is the sort of work that Fertile celebrates."

 

Two excerpts from Thompson's "Sixty-nine Snapshots of Our Mother:" 

 

***

 

1954: Deep in the damp and fertile foliage of memory, I sometimes

recall the milky scent of my Mvskoke mother's brown breasts, the

shade of ripe pecans, and her voice humming a lullaby.

 

 1999: Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't sing. The mean-

ing of the inipi, for me, began with the songs. The songs gave me

strength, patience, humility. Songs, songs, songs, songs. Songs for

the directions, for the medicines, for the animals, for thanksgiving,

for honoring, for sorrowing, for healing, songs for the earth.

 

***

 

My longtime friend, former work colleague and Diné elder, Gloria Emerson, brought to the project a collection of stories and poems called "The Esthetics of Tsé Áwózí." Tsé Áwózí is a phrase that describes pebbles. Ever since I've known her and long before, Gloria has collected small rocks, and they find places all over her home.

 

Three excerpts:

Miniature Packages

 

I love the beauty of miniature packages––tsé áwózí, k'é, jish––

holding massive details of geophysical history, stories of our social

world, and guidance to our spiritual cosmos.

 

Untitled

 

stones carry the history
of ancient pathways
of astrologic vomit
star power poking drops of light into the crevices
of geologic time
ancient stories light dim hallways of star charts (chatter)
falling to here, intergalactic motion,
planets forming mountains forming rivers forming

 

Untitled

 

"Tsé áwózí is all we got. Can't farm. Don't know what to do with

all these rocks, they keep us from farming."

~ Betty Becenti, farmer, at farmers' meeting on January 25, 2001

 

***

 

My own work in Fertile is a nineteen-part meditation on "Tongues." Three excerpts:

 

XI. 

My Mother Tongue is the US variety of English. I also heard Dutch

and Diné bizaad before I left my mother's womb. Dutch from my

father's parents and sometimes from my mother and father. Diné

bizaad from the Diné man who was my father's big brother, his

mentor, at Bible School, and especially from Ed's wife, Ella, who

talked more than Ed.

 

XII.

The church of my youth was not a shouting church. Members

scoffed at Pentecostal churches, where people spoke in tongues.

"Holy Rollers," they called them. Once, when I was ten years old, I

went to that kind of church with my friend. It was loud and mysteri-

ous, fervid. The worshippers were heirs of the bibilical apostles who

had tongues of fire land on their heads at Pentecost. All that emo-

tion scared me, but I sure hoped I would get to see tongues of fire.

 

XIV.

The tongues we speak bring us the taste of words. The muscles wrap

themselves around teeth and cheeks and lips to make the sounds.

The tongues we speak also present us with lavish food flavors. From

US English, mac and cheese. When I am being Dutch-American, I

eat moes, a peasants' mix of mashed potaatoes or rice with bacon fat,

kale, and bacon pieces. At Christmas, my grandmother mailed us

the flaky, buttery, Dutch almond pastry, banket. In Diné bizaad, I can

never get enough dahdíníilghaazh––puffy golden fry bread and with

it, mutton stew. My friend Pita says my ris alamande, the Danish

Christmas rice pudding, made with almond slivers, whipped cream,

and cherries, is food from the gods. In Jewish homes, at Passover, I

eat brisket and matzoh ball soup, charoset, and bitter herbs.

 

 

I hope these excerpts have given you a taste of Fertile and whetted your apetite for more. Sonja says that the writers are the project. It is completely funded by our submission fees, and all profits from sales belong to us, the writers. The project was developed to support literary artists. Most of the distribution is done through us, the writers, at this time. You can purchase Fertile from me for $30.95 plus $4 shipping and handling in the US, for a total of $34.95. Contact me if you live outside the US to ask about shipping. If you're interested, and of course, I hope you are, contact me in your usual way, in the comments, or by going to the Contact page on this website. Holiday gift-giving time is coming soon!

 

Fertile is the second of a four part series on the four elements. Wet, produced in the same way and exploring the element Water, has been purchased from me by some of you. It is still available, although I will have to back order it, whereas I have copies of Fertile available now. Forthcoming will be volumes on Air and Fire respectively.