Giving Thanks

The occasion of Thanksgiving recently passed, reminding me to be grateful for so many things, a few of which are family, health and education. And, in a world where the latter two are hardly possible without money, I must give thanks for my material prosperity. For this Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship.

It is interesting the types of conversations I have with Dutch students about finances. They have far less expendable money than people I know in the States, and yet, they do not have to worry about paying for the things that cost Americans both arms and legs: education and healthcare. The Dutch government (which is becoming more conservative) is now raising the cost for a second masters degree so that it will be extremely expensive (by Dutch standards) to procure one after next year. Students are irate. They have always considered it a given that they will be able to get two masters degrees after their bachelors (practically for free!) It costs around 1,200 euros to get a masters here, if you are from the European Union. With a world-class masters program costing that much in the U.S, I could afford to save up for several. In America, I tell my roommate, I can regularly save up for new technology: a laptop, phone, camera, what have you. But I could never save up for a degree. Here, it is the reverse, my roommate does not have to foot the cost of a university education and yet she would rarely have the expendable money for a new phone upgrade or new laptop. And so, this is all to say, I AM GRATFUL FOR THIS ROTARY SCHOLARSHIP. Grateful, the word, hardly covers it. How blessed I am. I am also thankful for poetry, like the Pulitzer Prize winning poet, Mary Oliver, who writes “Tell me, what is it you plan to do/ with your one wild and precious life?” in her book New and Selected Poems. And, in this same vein, Oliver has another great quote, it goes: “Listen. Are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?” Meaning, how much more could you be doing to have an amazing existence?


Lately I have been doing yoga in Holland. Running and yoga are somewhat of the antithesis of each other. For a bit of background, in high school and during my undergraduate years, I ran often. Now I am inflexible and have stiff knees which makes yoga hard. However, my Dutch roommate, Lidy, introduced me to a yoga class in Holland where you do yoga in a heated room. It is called bikram yoga. The benefit of this is that it is easier on your joints, they relax more easily— and you get a really good workout ( you are sweating before you even lift an arm.) After class you can walk outside on the porch and stick your feet in a bucket of snow-water. It sounds dreadful, but is really fantastic. For an hour and a half you stretch and do nothing but breath deeply through your nose. This breathing is also contrary to normal exercise breathing. While running, I breath in through my nose, out through my mouth. This breathing makes your more competitive and puts you into a gung ho, ready for action mindset. Like you want to win a race. Yoga breathing is the opposite of that.

Yoga breathing reminds me that there is an astonishing amount of space in our lungs for breath—the majority of which we never utilize. And so, too, we have manifold dreams that we never explore, a half-dozen ambitions we never speak out loud, a book of wonderful musings that we never bring to fruition or allow ourselves to dwell on.

It is an interesting time of year. Thanksgiving has passed. The Jewish New Year happened in September; (the time we give thanks and plan things we will do better in the new year) and it is not January 1st yet. But, today I will be grateful, and today I will take charge and take fruitful risks. Whether it is hosting a dinner get-together for my newfound Dutch friends, biking through the Dutch hillsides or exploring parts of Europe, I believe I will try to do something everyday that makes me a bit afraid, as Eleanor Roosevelt reportedly suggested everyone do with their days. I’ll try to remain on the edge. And remember to breath deeply.