Sitting in the laundromat cafe while my wet laundry tumbles about in the dryer, I warm my hands on a mug of coffee and stare out the window at the grey overcast February afternoon and the rain that has been coming down steadily all day. I feel a familiar tug and notice that it is my mind’s invitation to go down the effortless path of grumbling about the weather and the dreariness of it all and the rain, the endless rain. Ugh.
Merely anticipating this internal litany of complaint, a pall settles over me, bringing with it the recognizable whiff of gloom and depression. And then, just as suddenly, I hear a small voice from deep within protesting, saying “No!” to this boring, ungrateful whining. “Look again!” says the urgent little voice and this time when I look out the window I see something entirely different. I see a miracle. Water falling from the sky, life-giving water. I see the drops splashing on the deck railing, shimmering rings of wetness reflecting their cloud mother. And the trees are suddenly no longer grim and forbidding in their bare leaflessness. Rather there is a majestic gentleness in their quiet rest, drinking deeply and gathering strength for another season of verdant glory. And within moments the dreary pall has lifted and I am entertaining whimsical notions of running out into the rain and soaking it up like the trees, this watery gift from heaven.
What happened for me in those moments may have seemed effortless, but it wasn’t. It was a deliberate choice that enabled a 180 degree shift from a gloomy sense of deprivation and self pity to an experience of overwhelming abundance. All in a matter of seconds. What happened was a shift into gratitude.
I’ve been thinking a lot about gratitude lately. Specifically, about the intentional cultivation of gratefulness as a practice, as a way of living. The culture I live in does not encourage this. All day long I am bombarded with imagery and messages designed to make me feel dissatisfied with what I have and to compare myself unfavorably with others, not to mention all the real or imagined threats I should be frightened of. Rather than counting my blessings, I am encouraged to focus on where my circumstances and my possessions are falling short or ways in which I should feel afraid, very afraid. I have had myself many a pity or anxiety party over the years and I know I am not alone in this as witnessed daily in the busy emergency department where I work as a nurse. What is clear, however, is that this commitment to looking for what is missing or to be feared in one’s life does absolutely nothing to contribute to a sense of happiness and contentment. And what is also becoming increasingly clear is that positive emotions such as happiness, gratitude and joy contribute to reduced stress and elevated mood which in turn can have a substantial impact on the physical body in the form of reducing blood pressure, improving digestion, fostering better sleep and contributing to an overall improved state of health.
During this time of political and societal and ecological turmoil and upheaval I also find myself frequently wondering about the impact an intentional practice of thankfulness and appreciation might have on the process of working toward a more just and inclusive society and a healing of the planet. I see steep surges of anxiety, fear, discontent, anger and outrage happening all around me. I feel all these emotions myself and have seen them expanding on both sides of the political and ideological divide. Perhaps focusing on what we are grateful for in each other will be one of the many small stones that can slay this Goliath of division we are facing in our society. Perhaps the healing energy of our thankfulness will be a un-measurable balm to our faltering planet. I cannot but believe in the power of a grateful heart.
I was raised as the child of a southern preacher. Practicing our religion was not just reserved for Sunday mornings, but suffused every day of our lives. A prayer of thanks was spoken before every meal and the importance of being thankful for our blessings was invoked frequently. Over the years I have come to witness the practice of gratitude as a central component in many different spiritual traditions. This makes great sense to me because, like love, gratitude is an emotion that fosters connection both to others and oneself. Acknowledging and honoring the abundance of gifts received is a sacred act that takes us out of the mundane into a moment of greater wisdom. Rituals, such as giving thanks before meals, can powerfully remind us of our connection to all things and as such are a pivotal part of our healing, of knitting back together our fractured and traumatized parts and returning to a state of wholeness.
When I am struggling to find a grateful molecule in my body, I go out into Nature. I walk among the plants and listen to the burble of the creek. I examine small blossoms and veined leaves and look closely at wrinkled bark. I feel the soft ground under my feet and soon enough gratitude wells up without any effort whatsoever and I feel stitched back together into the soft animal that has always known she belongs.
