E.B. White wrote, “ I arise each morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world.” His conundrum is wither to save or savor the world. Perhaps to savor, to be grateful for the world is one way to save it.
The Gratitude Guerilla Action is a walking “Thank-You” being performed throughout the City of St. Paul as a simple, non-dogmatic gesture of gratitude and a reminder of our collective good fortune. An elegant iridescent balloon with the words “thank-you” printed in white will be carried by a growing number of walkers from May through October 2008.
Beginning in May the artist will maintain her regular walking routine in parks and walking paths throughout the city carrying the “thank-you” balloon. In July the walkers will begin to walk in groups that will vary in number between two to twelve. By August volunteers will start walking other routes and the Gratitude Guerillas will begin to become a visible presence in the city. The action will culminate with large community gratitude walks at Marydale Park, Como Lake, Mississippi River Boulevard and Phalen Lake.
The Gratitude Guerillas walk in an attentive focused manner along paths in parks, along lakes and rivers and on boulevards and bridges. These sites have been selected to bring the action to where people naturally gather and to avoid any sites that might be associated with a commercial venture. As these walks grow larger they are not intended to emulate a protest or organized walk-a-thons, rather the walkers are doing an ordinary daily activity carrying the balloon as an interjected gesture. The large community walks are created by very simple means: unannounced the Gratitude Guerillas will set up on a busy walking path and give away 500 “thank-you” balloons to walkers so that through out the day balloons will visibly flow around the lake or along the river and out into the community.
The primary aesthetic of this project is to reflect the quiet, inner nature of gratitude. For example the subtle white-on white design of the balloon whispers “thank-you”, as well it is light and buoyant like the feeling of gratefulness. And although the action is intended to be ubiquitous in the community it specifically avoids being loud or grandiose. The understated balloon, the gradual growing presence of the walkers, and the grassroots organizational structure are all designed to emulate the humble, generous spirit of gratitude.
The intention of this project is to infuse the community with a constant and contemplative presence of gratitude. The goal is to unobtrusively enjoin the community in creating a beautiful and memorable image in public spaces. The expectation is to raise awareness of our good fortune and inspire conversation about how gratitude can create a generous, resilient and strong community.
The Mussar teachings on the attitude of gratitude are tough, because they don't let us feel sorry for ourselves, no matter how little we may have. One Mussar master began a talk with a thump on the table and the words, "It is enough that a human being is alive!" Then he ended his talk right there.
There is a story -- maybe an urban legend, but full of truth nonetheless -- concerning the famous violinist Itzhak Perlman. One evening, Perlman was in New York to give a concert. As a child he had been stricken with polio and getting on stage is no small feat for him. He wears braces on both legs and walks with two crutches. Perlman crossed the stage painfully slowly, until he reached the chair in which he seated himself to play.
As soon as he appeared on stage that night, the audience applauded and then waited respectfully as he made his way slowly across the stage. He took his seat, signaled to the conductor, and began to play.
No sooner had he finished the first few bars than one of the strings on his violin snapped with a report like gunshot. At that point Perlman was close enough to the beginning of the piece that it would have been reasonable to bring the concert to a halt while he replaced the string to begin again. But that's not what he did. He waited a moment and then signaled the conductor to pick up just where they had left off.
Perlman now had only three strings with which to play his soloist part. He was able to find some of the missing notes on adjoining strings, but where that wasn't possible, he had to rearrange the music on the spot in his head so that it all still held together.
He played with passion and artistry, spontaneously rearranging the symphony right through to the end. When he finally rested his bow, the audience sat for a moment in stunned silence. And then they rose to their feet and cheered wildly. They knew they had been witness to an extraordinary display of human skill and ingenuity.
Perlman raised his bow to signal for quiet. "You know," he said, "sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much beautiful music you can still make with what you have left."
We have to wonder, was he speaking of his violin strings or his crippled body? And is it true only for artists? We are all lacking something, and so we are all challenged to answer the question: Do we have the attitude of making something of beauty out of what we do have, incomplete as it may be?