Gratitude is the key to happiness, far more than income, social status, or living in the right zip code. So it deserves a holiday even if, at Thanksgiving dinner, Aunt Rhoda tells you, again, how you could certainly afford to lose a few pounds, and Uncle Sy’s loud opinions make you want to shove his head in the bowl of mashed potatoes. Breathe deeply; you can feel grateful that you see them only once a year.
But seriously.
It turns out that thankfulness is a feel-good, free elixir. It increases physical health and mental health. A meta-analysis of 62 studies with more than 26,000 participants showed that gratitude lowers depression. The act of writing a letter to thank someone for an act of kindness can lift spirits for as long as a month, a researcher at the University of Pennsylvania found. A thankful heart can improve your relationships and help you sleep better.
It can even help keep you sober, a tenet of recovery to which I can attest after nearly 37 booze-free years. (There is a reason that “Cultivate an attitude of gratitude” is on the wall of many meeting rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous.)
Gratitude helps us find the extraordinary in the commonplace and enables us to spy the gift in an ordinary day.
Of course, reasons to be thankful are different for everyone. Here is my own partial list:
For the first snow of winter, and the first sight of crocuses in spring. And, always, the smell of lilacs.
For the blazing colors of autumn.
For the sound of hooting owls calling to one another on a silent night.
For the first glimpse of the constellation Orion, its stars gleaming over the horizon on a November evening.
For the fire in a wood stove, and the first cross-country ski jaunt in winter.
For the love of a good dog. For a cat who purrs on my lap and keeps me company in my barn office.
The unmitigated joy of puppies experiencing winter - and leaving tracks that are figure eights in the snow.
For a room of my own, to write, to think, and to contemplate all that is about who we are.
For the laughter of children, and grandchildren.
For the sight, high overhead, of the constellation Cygnus the swan, swooping through the Milky Way.
For the light of a full moon on a country meadow.
For the February morning when the rising sun begins to lighten the sky at about 6 am, signaling that the darkness of winter is beginning to run its course.
For the sound of returning geese as the snow melts, and the sound of the first peepers, noisy tree frogs that sing a springtime hallelujah chorus.
For the blue of robin’s eggs, the wind in the reeds in summer. the sight of waves on the Great Lakes.
For the first sail in June and the smell of salt air.
For babies. Every last one of them.
For the silence between friends who don’t need words to understand.
For new love that makes everything seem possible.
For the contentment of old love that knows everything is not possible, but it’s all OK.
And for statements that spark profound gratitude:
“The operation is a success.”
“You are cancer-free.”
“Your baby is perfect.”
“The tumor is benign.”
“I love you.”
“You passed the exam.”
“You’re hired.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“We have found an organ donor.”
“Welcome home.”
“School is out for the year.”
“The car is totaled, but everyone is OK.”
And, this year, the joy-filled words from a beautiful young friend from Afghanistan: “The United States government has granted me asylum.”
Happy Thanksgiving, one and all.
Thoughts are energetic. Your personal gratitude journaling vibrates beyond you and lifts more spirits. I’m grateful for the blessing of our friendship.