A View From My Window- What If Gratitude Doesn't Need A Reason?

My little great-granddaughter is three years old. She has been taught to say
please and thank you, and even “you’re welcome!” Her parents have set
her on a path that will make her life, and the lives of those around her, more
pleasant. I applaud that. There is something quite delightful about hearing
those words from a small person who is just beginning to discover how to
live among us.
I still love the little thank-you card that arrives in the mail after a gift. Among
the bills and flyers, there it is: someone has taken a moment to
acknowledge a kindness. It brings a heart-warmed smile to the person who
receives it, and I suspect the person who wrote it feels a little glow as well.
The gift has already been given, yet something is still moving between
them.
What is it about sincere gratitude that touches us and brings us closer
together?
For me, gratitude reaches beyond courtesy and appreciation. In its deepest
form, it doesn’t even need to be for something. It is an energy, an attitude,
a direction in which we turn ourselves. I can feel grateful before I have
made a list of reasons, much as I can feel love without stopping to explain
why.
Perhaps you have known mornings like that. Nothing particularly wonderful
has happened. There are still dishes in the sink, things to attend to, and a
world that seems determined to keep us concerned. Yet you stand at the
window with a warm cup in your hands, watch the light move across the
garden, and feel a quiet welcome for the day. For a moment, being here is
enough.
That is the gratitude I am trying to describe.
I see it as a creative power. When I enter into gratitude, I become more
open to life. I notice possibilities I might otherwise have missed. I am more
willing to give, to receive, and to take part in whatever wants to grow. To
me, that is the Law of Attraction at work: the energy we bring to life helps
shape what we invite into it.
Think of what happens when someone receives your contribution with
warmth. Perhaps you have brought a dish to share, offered an idea, or
you have made time to listen. Their gratitude gives your offering somewhere
to land. You feel welcomed, and often you want to contribute again.
Something begins to circulate: kindness, interest, generosity, enjoyment.
Each person adds to it, and there is more available for everyone.
I believe we can enter into that same kind of relationship with life itself.
One of my mentors told me many years ago, “The attitude of gratitude
brings altitude.” It made me smile then, and it still does. I don’t think we can
be grateful and hateful at the same time. Gratitude lifts our eyes, even if
only for a moment, and gives us a little more room to breathe. The
circumstances may be exactly as they were, yet we meet them from a
different place—and that can change our next choice.
This matters to me because gratitude has room for an honest life. There
can be sorrow, weariness, disappointment, and unanswered questions.
Some days are hard. On those days, gratitude may be in the support: the
comfort of someone sitting beside us, the warmth of a blanket, or the
willingness to let another person help. We can allow that small warmth its
place without asking it to explain away everything else we feel.
There are many facets to gratitude. There is the thank-you we learn as
children, and the appreciation we feel for a gift, an opportunity, or a helping
hand. Then there is the quiet wonder of being alive at all—of seeing the
beauty of this world and knowing we are part of it.
After a season of growing and gathering, I find that wonder close at hand. A
seed, some soil, water, sunlight, and our attention have become food to put
on the table. We have done our share of the work, certainly, but what an
extraordinary partnership we have been allowed to join. I can plant a seed
and tend it; the life within it does the growing.
Beyond even that, I believe gratitude can be a deliberate joining of
ourselves to something much larger: a powerful expression of unity with the
forces of creation. We bring our attention, our choices, and our willingness
to participate; life brings possibilities we could never have arranged on our
own.
This is part of what I hope we offer through Casaroma. Whether we are
listening to someone, creating a blend, or sharing something in this
Wellness letter, there is an opportunity to give our attention to the life in front of
us. Over the years, so many of you have contributed to that life through
your stories, your questions, your humour, and your trust. What we offer
grows through that exchange. Gratitude keeps me aware of how much we
are creating together.
And sometimes the doorway into gratitude is wonderfully simple. The scent
of an evergreen on a walk. A familiar aroma that brings someone dear to
mind. The pleasure of rubbing a sprig of rosemary between our fingers.
Such moments invite us to pause long enough to receive what is already
here. In a busy day, that pause can feel like opening a window.
Perhaps this week we could give ourselves a few moments to enter into
gratitude before deciding what we are grateful for. Sit with a cup of tea, step
outside, or enjoy a scent you love. Let the list of things to do wait a little.
See what it feels like to meet the moment with a willing heart.
There may be a little more ease, a little more curiosity, or a fresh breeze of
spontaneous joy. Perhaps we find ourselves making a phone call, offering a
kindness, or saying yes to something we might otherwise have passed by.
Gratitude has begun to move into action.
Thanksgiving gives us a lovely occasion to express it, but gratitude is
available on an ordinary morning too, with unfinished work on the table and
no particular reason we can name.
We don’t have to wait for life to give us something to be thankful for. We
can bring gratitude to life—and see what grows.
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I adore this idea! And in particular your comparison of not needing a list of reasons for gratitude any more than you need to understand ‘why’ to feel love.