Pouring Back In: Gratitude, Balance, and the Doula’s Jug
You’ve heard it before: “you can’t pour from an empty jug.” And it’s true, you can’t.
Two years ago, I was running on fumes. My jug had emptied- I was burnt out, I was living a variation of the same day on a continuous loop, and I wasn’t extracting the gratitude from them with any degree of intentionality. So, I did what any free-spirited, reflective fire sign would do, and booked my ticket to a country I’d never been to before. I was about to set off to start a work-trade in Costa Rica, alone, and live at a surf camp nestled in the jungle for nearly a month.
When I got there, I was greeted by the immediate humidity and stinging mosquitos. It was not love at first sight, but as the days went on, and I grew increasingly accepting of my circumstances, I’d come to find a powerful gratitude for my discomfort. Each night, I’d tiptoe out of my nineteen-person dorm, splash through deep puddles of mud (rainy season in Costa Rica, ya know), stumble in the darkness with animal sounds coming from the lushness of my surroundings (howler monkeys, and all), to find my way to the outdoor bathroom, where many insects were reliably waiting. In the mornings, right when the sun came up, I’d walk over to the kitchen and assume my position, dull knife in hand, and used every muscle in my arm to cut up three watermelons, five pineapples, and whatever other fruit the local vendors brought to us the night before. My clothes were never clean, my hair was never dry, I was constantly covered in a layer of dirt, sweat, and glitter. There was no air conditioning, and we all cherished a few minutes in front of the small electric fans. We were all budgeting, all eating less, mostly barefoot. I hadn’t lived with so little in all my life, and yet, I was the richest I’d ever been. I met my best friends there, and we still regularly cross states and countries to travel together. I shared shampoo with girls I hadn’t known a few days before, shared laughter and played cards, found connection in everything and admired the collective detachment we felt towards what it meant to be “on the straight and narrow.” People braided each other’s hair, swapped shifts at the tiki bar, shared a microphone on karaoke night. I traded stories with strangers, and together we served breakfast to the others at the camp. It was a working commune- everyone shared, everyone did their part, everyone offered something, everyone benefitted. I think of this as the rebirth of my gratitude journey. This is when I began honing the skill of awareness. I returned with a jug so overflowing, so abundant and thriving in the perfection of life unfolding as it would. Things did not feel euphoric forever, but I’d gained a new understanding- of the world, yes, but also of my place in it, and of myself as a whole person. Now, I’m back in New York, and I work at a clinic. I look back at my infected spider bite with clinical eyes. I am more concerned about sun tan lotion.
This has me thinking a lot about filling up that proverbial jug. How can we do that when we aren’t dedicating hours to aloe face masks and everything-showers? To nature strolls and clinking glasses over brunch? What is self-care when you are wearing wrinkled scrubs and crying behind your office door? When you haven’t slept in twenty hours? When you have thirty minutes to scarf down a turkey sandwich and try to ignore your notifications? Enter the gratitude journal.
It was John Wooden who said, “Next to love, balance is the most important thing.” Another quote by Sadhguru reads, “There is no such thing as work-life balance- it is all life.” I’ll be honest- my first thought when I was introduced to the concept of the gratitude journal was, “what about the hard days?” I wondered if this practice would sometimes feel like forcing myself to dismiss my less desirable emotions in the name of being “grateful”, to squash down struggle- to pretend it does not exist, lest I give the universe the impression that I’m not happy to be here. My next thought was, “that’s probably why I need a gratitude journal.”
So what does gratitude have to do with balance? The way I see it, gratitude balances perspective. On those days I was worried about, when I’m not feeling particularly called to write in the gratitude journal, I think it’s important to acknowledge that I’m not forcing myself to come up with something- I’m not making it up. I’m actually grateful for these things- the act of writing it out just asks me to slow down. To notice. Patting its hand on a meditation cushion, the gratitude journal shows me- each time I engage with it- that it is a form of mindfulness. If mindfulness is an awareness of what is, and I trust that the world is naturally good and balanced, and it is my consciousness that I’m trying to align with that balance, (like riding a bicycle, or walking across a beam, constantly adjusting), then it can be said that the gratitude journal simply makes me aware of the good things, when it is easier to see the bad. When the bad will not be ignored, I organically start to notice, neither will the good. Yin-yang, if you will. Balance.
There are some days where all I can see is the good. I run out of lines on the page, there is so much to fill it with. The evening sky is doing that pink-purple thing. My car has a roof that comes off, and it’s a cool color. My dad is a mechanic, and he can fix the tires any time. He’s making stir-fry tonight, and my partner and I are always invited. My partner makes me laugh. She will watch my favorite show with me. My apartment is clean. I have a place to live. I just got these new bowls I really like, they’re just my style. I’m reading a great book. The weather is perfect, and my favorite song is on. All of these things can change at any time, but they are good right now. And because I’ve practiced gratitude, I know that I am so special to the world, I feel so loved by God, who is out there loving me too, and is not some vindictive, shaming entity who is mad at me for my humanness. And therefore, I know that if they do change, they will be replaced by some other good thing, or teaching thing, or whatever thing, but I cannot control it. And still, I am sometimes frightened by that thought, but I find balance in knowing acceptance, because I have befriended gratitude.
Gratitude fills the jug. It shows us the capacity of our jug, too- that it’s sometimes bigger than we realized. We can hold more when we are paying attention, and therefore, we can offer more. Balance fills the jug, because we can adjust our sails and honor our feelings, “good” or “bad,” and we can see ourselves and love ourselves in our wholeness, and be loved in our wholeness. Love fills the jug! Other people fill the jug! Laughter fills the jug. Connection. Fills. The. Jug. And so do aloe face masks, and everything-showers, and so do nature strolls. Balance.
