What We Are Grateful For | (DC)

In the early days of the pandemic, our first belief was that dozens of animals would be surrendered to shelters because families couldn’t care for them. But those animals never really came. The animals [that did come into the shelter] were only with us a few days. Either the owners recovered from Covid or a family member or friend came to get the animal. If this had happened 15 years ago, we may have seen dozens of surrenders. This has been an affirmation of the advocacy we’ve been doing for years about animals’ place in society and their place in the family. I’ve been deeply moved by people not wanting to give up their pets.
There were a lot of people who adopted. What hasn’t been covered as much and what really blew me away was the number of people in the Washington area who volunteered to foster. We had 2,000 who offered to take in animals. We didn’t have enough animals to give to everybody. I’ve thought a lot about why that happened, and I think people felt so helpless and this was something they could do for the community.
What that created was a steady bench of people who could take in animals that never spend time in a shelter. This is the future of our work. We are rethinking everything we do in terms of institutional housing of animals. We are looking at how big we can build our foster systems so animals don’t have to be in institutions again. We will never go back to the way we were before, back to the way animal shelters operated. This has been a turning point.
I really, really, really enjoy a good gushing. I’m the kind of person who likes to look you in the face, whether it be on Zoom or whether I stand six feet away, and just tell you how I feel. I think it’s important that we tell people we love them. I say it to kids all the time. Especially men, especially men, because men get so uncomfortable with it. Even if people are uncomfortable or stammer for a moment, they’ll usually return it.
Kobe Bryant sent me a pair of sneakers. This was a couple months before he died. He started a publishing company, he was trying to get me to work with him, and I didn’t have the time, but we stayed in touch. His daughter Gianna was a big fan. [The sneakers are] all gold. The Nike Air Max 1. All gold. The sole, the shoes, the laces, the toe box, the tongue. I’ve never worn them. I’ll never wear them.
I had never planted a garden before, and then I did and I was grateful for the tomatoes. I don’t necessarily say to my clients, “You should garden.” I just say, “What will bring you a little bit of joy this week?” I think people are just encouraged by the idea—it’s a cliché by now—of taking it step by step.
There was a 
column recently by a woman who races sled dogs. Basically, what she said is sometimes you don’t know how long you’re going to have to ask these dogs to run, and the way you help them run a thousand miles is you take care of them in advance. I thought that was incredibly helpful. I’ve talked to some clients about that. We all need to take care of ourselves proactively. Before you feel burned out, take a rest. Before you feel lonely, reach out. I’m very grateful to [the author]. It’s an extremely helpful concept.
Our community. We’ve had members reach out and say, “How can I donate to the Outrage to make sure you’re here post-pandemic?” It’s so hard seeing all of these businesses fail on 14th Street, which is where we are. I know what it is to build something. I’m so grateful for the community that has rallied behind us to keep us afloat.
When we’re on vacation, we have a habit of taking a big urn and a little notepad with a pen, and throughout the time we’re all together as a family, we will write down the things that make us happy and the things for which we are grateful. I realized in this [pandemic] that a practice like that should not just be reserved for vacation. I’m endeavoring to introduce that into our daily lives so we capture even the smallest moments of joy: 
Just the small things that bring moments of either joy or gratitude.
I am really grateful that I was raised by parents who helped me understand that you can love a country even if you don’t love its history. My parents loved a country that did not love them back. They were deeply patriotic—my father in particular. There were flags in our garden and flags everywhere, even though he was a World War II veteran who served in a segregated unit; grew up in Alabama and dealt with all the Jim Crow laws; moved to a neighborhood in Minneapolis and watched his neighbors all put their houses up for sale.
It would be easy for my parents to have a hardened view about the country they called home, yet they believed in America’s promise. And they passed that on to their kids. In a really divided moment, I’m thankful that I have that foundation. That you can love America even if you don’t love America’s history, and part of loving America is asking her to live up to her promises spelled out in our Constitution and in our core beliefs.
Individuals who are able have really stepped up to support their neighbors. We often say that in the darkest moments, in the middle of disasters—big hurricanes, wildfires—you see the best of humanity, because everything gets stripped away. All the noise, all the politics. When it’s just human beings there for each other, it’s quite beautiful.
Thinking back to March and early April, a lot of physicians were depressed, including me. You had the sense that nothing you do works. People were dying, a large number. I lost count. And they were dying without their family members. That was really depressing. I [finally] had the courage to talk to a coworker who’s also an infectious-disease physician. I realized that I wasn’t alone. She had the same anxiety I had. That was when we devised a strategy that we shouldn’t just dwell on the sad parts. We should pick one thing we are grateful for every day and share [it] with each other. That’s really helped both of us. She calls me and says, “I’m not going to tell you all of the bad news today—I’m going to tell you the good news. That patient we started Remdesivir for was extubated.” We started to see that although we thought we weren’t doing any good, we actually did some good.
It means a lot. We don’t expect a thank-you from anyone, to be honest. We do our work, the patient is discharged, and that’s it. But when we hear “thank you” from a family member, from a patient who almost died, someone saw how much effort we went through to make sure the person lives. It keeps us going.
The number-one thing is [one of the salon’s groups]—we call ourselves the Morning Poppins [after Julia Cameron’s “morning pages” writing exercise]. It meets [virtually] from 8:30 to 9 am every single day to write freehand, whatever comes out of your brain. It’s been an incredible source of lightness and connection. People say it’s one of the most positive things they’ve gotten from the pandemic—that’s my favorite part, hearing how important it is to people. I feel really lucky that [even though] I live alone, I haven’t really felt lonely during this pandemic because of these connections.
When I find pennies, nickels, dimes, sometimes dollars, I practice writing a gratitude for every cent and put the coins in a gratitude jar. I do that every day. I write down things like sitting in Logan Circle in the sunshine reading a book, or the HelloFresh meal delivery, going for bike rides. I just bought a new jar because it’s about to be full.
I feel like I was just knocked on my ass for a month, but we heard from so many people reaching out to share kind words, and it was really validating. I don’t want to say it was a blessing in disguise, because nobody wants to be dealing with a fire in the middle of a pandemic, but we were shown so much love.
It’s not always easy to feel grateful, because things are so messed up. I started these Instagram stories [on the Teaism Instagram], right after we had to shut down all of our locations, where I’m documenting my tea drinking every day, with shots of the tea pouring really slowly into the cup. I’ve been hearing from people saying, “This was my moment of Zen for the day,” and in a lot of ways it’s become my own meditation on gratitude. I’m not very good at meditating—I end up ruminating a lot instead. But making tea is like a moving meditation. You can hear water pouring. You can appreciate the light hitting the liquid, the steam rising. It engages every sense. At the end of it, I come out more centered, more grateful, and more ready to start the day.
That was a very troubling period, and we were trying to be a presence of calm and solidarity and love in the midst of all that. Where the gratitude came from, for me, was the overwhelming response from people all across the country. I have stacks of cards and letters from people who were grateful for a witness who spoke of a rightful use of our sacred texts, and [who had] a willingness to hold up a different vision of who we are as a country.
It’s not simply a response to the nice things that happen but a disciplined way of living your life so that we are constantly observing and seeking out the good. So that we aren’t overwhelmed by sadness or evil but we remind ourselves through daily practices that there is a source of goodness and love in a world that is stronger than hate, stronger than meanness, stronger than evil.
My wife and I had Covid and quarantined together in Richmond. With the Senate out of session, we were together for 38 days, just the two of us. We would have breakfast in the morning, each work in separate parts of our house, find time for a walk or bike-ride every day, and then make dinner and find something fun to do at night. We watched movies we always wanted to see, played cards, listened to music. We realized—after 36 years of a busy marriage, both working and raising three children—that it was the most uninterrupted one-on-one time we’ve ever had. We loved being together, even in the midst of such a challenging time.
Obviously, I’m grateful for our panda cub, but I’m grateful for having this job, because while a lot of people were stuck at home, I got to come to work and see pandas.
I’m grateful for the outcry of the community, especially during the public hearing that really got the name change recognized. Because 100-and-something people showed up. And the number of people that signed my petition—it was more than 1,000 people in one day.
Is there a way you regularly practice gratitude?
I’m Muslim, so I’ll pray as a form of gratitude. At the same time, I’m actively grateful—I’ll do tasks of cleaning the house and doing an extra chore so my mom doesn’t have to work as hard, just to give back because my parents gave so much to me.
I have been spending hours writing thank-you notes. Normally I don’t write notes to somebody who has rounded up their ticket purchase and given a donation for $6, but I am totally writing that thank-you note right now, because I want to tell them this is such a hard moment for so many reasons and we are just really lucky to have them in our corner.
Our costume shop created these Woolly Mammoth rubber stamps, so I got an ink pad and a thank-you stamp. I get these blank cards, and I’ll be on a big old conference call or listening to a webinar and I’ll just be stamping “thank you” over and over and stamping the Woolly logo on all these cards, which I find very meditative. It’s like a gratitude practice. On weekends, I’ll wake up, make a cup of coffee, and take an hour to just write the gratitude to all of these folks.
My daughters are 11 and 13. You probably remember that age. They’re on the verge of barely talking to us. We’ve gone on a lot of hikes, and we’ve gotten a lot of—quality time might be a push because they’re basically teenage girls, but we’ve had a lot of time together. I grew up here, right by Fort Washington Park. I loved going to that park. That was the first place we went, the first day in March when the kids got shut out of school. We’ve been to Cosca Park, Chincoteague, Crisfield, Point of Rocks. We’ve gone to parks I loved when I was a kid and parks I never got to go to when I was a kid. It’s been awesome. I’m a big ol’ sap—I save a rock from each hike and label it. One day, if the city doesn’t burn down, we’ll look back on it and think, 
The other thing I’m grateful for: the friends that reach out and check on you. I have guys I grew up with, some who call me once a week to check in. This one guy, he’s offered to send me money, texts me in the middle of night—it’s reaffirming some of my old friendships. You get caught by surprise sometimes by the people that reach out to you. It’s good to have right now.