On Gratitude
I was told it takes about 10,000 repetitions and reminders before a child learns to say “please” and/or “thank you.” Courtesy is a lovely thing, but not automatic.
However, does repetition translate into authentic appreciation or gratitude? Have cultural norms merely trained us to spout rote responses in the name of politeness without meaning?
According to “Psychology Today” https://shorturl.at/o7iSV gratitude is an appreciation for what one has. How many of us are truly satisfied with life as it is, with what we own now? Am I?
I’m working on it.
I am an on-again/off-again fan of the “Monk Manual.” This comprehensive planner promotes self-awareness, reflection, and a more purpose-driven way of approaching life, day to day, week to week, and month to month. They are all intertwined. Among the practices that developer, Steven Lawson, encourages are to write down “gratitudes” each day, identify a monthly theme, and to make a commitment to building a new habit each month. And finally, at the end of each day, reflect on that day and how the morning plans worked out...or not.
And all the while, each day’s intention is to be undergirded with gratitude.
Developing an inner practice of gratitude has been particularly difficult for me in the face of national and international news stories and headlines. Good news is rare: evil, deception, and wars are the new normal, not to mention natural disasters, uncommon weather patterns, and mass shootings. Not to mention, a dreadful polarity among people and their closely guarded points of view where compromise is next to impossible. Reasonable and respectful discourse has disappeared. It’s a blame game.
Am I grateful for any of this? I am not.
So, what did I write down today... for what am I grateful? The Mama Robin who has built a nest at the top of a column on our front porch; the cat who lies with me at night until I fall asleep; the slow but steady improvement of my right knee; the recovery of a potted plant I nearly starved to death; the laughter of my grandson when he doesn’t know anyone is listening; the delight I feel while listening to an audio book where dogs and cats and horses and opossums can speak to each other. I give thanks.
All these things live in the small circle of my little life. They will not change the major dramas of the world, my town, or even my neighborhood. But, they do water a seed of hope within me. Love is still love. Joy persists.
