Thoughts on Gratitude

aka What to do after Turkey Day

Since July I’ve faithfully kept a 5-minute journal. In fact it’s called The Five Minute Journal though it usually takes less than 5 minutes each day to complete. The journal was a gift. (I can’t remember from who though. If it was you - thanks!) The beauty of this journal lies in its simplicity. There are the same prompts every morning and the same ones every night. The rote nature of the questions has made this practice a ritual and one of my favorite parts of the day.

Each morning I’m asked to list 3 things for which I’m grateful. It’s funny what exactly bubbles up at 7 a.m. as my eyes first crack open. It’s usually very simple: a good night’s rest, a warm bed, a thriving plant across the room, a working ceiling fan. At the end of the day I’m then prompted to report on three “amazing” things that happened. At first I didn’t understand why the prompts were designed that way. But now I think I get it. Each morning I send thanks for what is. Each evening I send thanks for what was.

A slow but profound change has happened through this ritual. The more I’ve “practiced gratitude,” the more it’s become my way of operating through the world. At first I would seek out things to put in my journal. I would try to take mental snapshots - laughing with friends, a good meal, getting a good audition. I would search for big moments and hope my brain retained them until I returned to my journal that night. Gratitude slowly became the glasses through which I saw the world, as cliché as that may sound.

Over time these things got smaller and more nuanced. It wasn’t just about big happy moments but teeny tiny ones. Moments of minute splendor. A stunning sunset, the particular way a flower bloomed, the magnificence of a ripe pear. My tools of gratefulness got more refined. Nowadays, instead of foraging for these moments, it feels like they come to me. They seek me out.

Almost a decade ago, my mom began her gratitude practice. Each day she journals down all the moments she saw or experienced that fill her with thanks. After 10 years she has filled 35 books. Read that again. She has filled THIRTY-FIVE BOOKS!! It’s jaw-dropping. I believe she’s become the living embodiment of gratitude. It’s no longer the glasses she wears, but the eyes in her head. After ten years and thirty-five filled journals, gratitude must be embedded. It’s woven into DNA. Inextricably connected.

One time, Oprah very famously lamented to her mentor and friend Maya Angelou. She was facing a difficult situation that caused her turmoil. Her fervor, rage, and fear were boiling up and spilling over unchecked. Maya stopped her mid-sentence, as only Maya Angelou could do, and told Oprah to stop. Stop right then and there. And say ‘thank you.’ A confused Oprah questioned what her mentor meant. Angelou repeated, stop what you’re doing, get down on your knees, and say thank you. Say thank you for this situation, say thank you for the grief, say thank you for the storm. Because no one says no to Maya, Oprah did as she was instructed. According to her, this was a transformative moment.

My takeaway from Oprah’s story is that we shouldn’t just be grateful for the good things. Gratitude can’t be selective, though that might be our natural inclination. As human creatures, we tend to seek out comfortable, safety, and peace. So it feels counterintuitive to then be thankful for discomfort, danger, and turmoil. But they’re the inevitable building blocks to become the person you want to be, living the life you want. Resilient, wholehearted, brave, and successful people, by the laws of the universe in which we live, have to face obstacles, heart breaks, fear, and failure. We don’t get one without the other.

So as we move forward into December, my prayer is that we take the spirit of Thanksgiving with us. May we see it. May we give it. May we become it.

All of it.