gratitude practice

There’s power in gratitude.

Some mornings I haven’t even rolled out of bed and I’m already thinking towards the ten first things I need to do that day, or how the crick in my neck hasn’t gone away, or … you get the point.

On those mornings, I still write it all out—I spill my grievances, however trivial they seem, onto the page to clear them from my head. Eventually I reach a point where I’m either empty of grievances or I just can’t take the complaining in my head anymore, and I turn to gratitude.

In my experience, there’s a warm-up period in a gratitude practice. If I try to list ten things I’m grateful for, the first five come slowly, with effort. But gratitude begets gratitude, and the more I jot down, the more I notice and realize I’m grateful for—the new growth of the green ash trees, the contrast of green leaves against the blue morning sky, the shape of aspen leaves, the new growth on the tamaracks that’s greener than the rest. COFFEE. The bunny that comes to our yard to eat dandelion stalks whole. The house finches singing in our neighbor’s yard. The way our pup perches hind legs on the arm of the couch, front legs on the windowsill as she looks out over the neighborhood. COFFEE. First light streaming through the windows, casting shadows. The creativity and abundance of this earth.

I’ve come to understand that gratitude emerges in the details - in the specificity of noticing. But to notice, we must first get out of our own heads and return to presence. By cultivating a practice of noticing and curiosity, we invite gratitude, empathy, and belonging to take root.

What’s one thing you’re grateful for in this moment?
Five more things?