Abundance through Gratitude

Another Thanksgiving Day weekend. Yet another challenging year in which to remember the earth’s natural abundance in times of violence, inequity and perceived scarcity. Another difficult opportunity to practice the daily art of grateful living, no matter the pain inside and around us. 

I’ve become more skilled at this over the years, by practicing gratitude as a craft regardless of my emotions or circumstance. In the process I’ve remembered the ancient lessons of how we can all practice gratitude’s craft together, without needing to be masters; without demanding that impossible expectation of each other. 

I spent very demanding years living, writing, and photographing my book Grateful by Nature, including and especially while caregiving my aging mother through her long, slow, painful death in the isolation of pandemic times, while simultaneously having my own challenges of healing. It was in this excruciating crucible in which I remembered the true nature of gratitude, abundance, and the profound grace of turning our wounds into gifts.

When I’m asked to distill the central insight of this, I return to one observation about gratitude’s daily practice: Being grateful is like being a carpenter: The skills are only realized when you use them to build shelter for others. It’s a reminder to me that we can build shelter for each other independent of personal feeling. I recall that gratitude is a practice, like meditation, listening, and calm. I remember that gratitude is an art form, like watercolor painting, poetry, or chamber music. It’s a shared practice,  as is creating music or building a home for others.

When I’ve again forgotten this ancient truth, I remember it by returning to nature, whatever nature around me and within me may be close at hand. In creating Grateful by Nature, I particularly found it helpful to visit local oak trees. They always remind me how gratitude is not something we have to create; merely something we have to draw from, in the way that oaks draw water from the air and land in order to thrive. Gratitude is there to be drawn from in the same way as water, from the deep vibrant well of living spirit from which we all draw life. 

This returns me to remembrance of the nature of abundance, which is not merely monetary or material. Abundance is a holistic form of richness, which includes emotional, spiritual, and other aspects not at all dependent on physical riches. It’s best tapped into by appreciation rather than acquisition. It’s accessed by remembering the natural miracles of the living earth; by recalling that simply being alive is a profoundly miraculous and unlikely occurrence. By remembering that we are nature too, and a remarkably beautiful aspect of it, no matter how flawed as well. 

For me the most difficult aspect of gratitude’s practice and abundance’s remembrance is to appreciate whatever’s given, including our own flaws and any tragic and traumatic circumstances with which we’re faced. I seek to live according to the ancient principle that Rumi articulated so beautifully, many centuries ago: “That hurt we embrace becomes joy. Call it to your arms so it can change.” 

Gratitude is not an easy practice, always needing another level of practice and acquired skill, especially in a time of profound violence and upheaval. To break the cycles by responding without retribution, to remain on the path of compassion and gratitude, is our collective practice again this morning, this year, this life. If you are reading this, you are still here too, able in some small way as I am to spend another day turning wounds into gifts, to work again at the sweaty, gritty craft of building shelter for others. For your presence silently beside me on this path, I’m profoundly grateful. Thank you for sharing these years; for celebrating despite and because of everything. 

Gratitude is not an easy practice, always needing another level of practice and acquired skill, especially in a time of profound violence and upheaval. To break the cycles by responding without retribution, to remain on the path of compassion and gratitude, is our collective practice again this morning, this year, this life. If you are reading this, you are still here too, able in some small way as I am to spend another day turning wounds into gifts, to work again at the sweaty, gritty craft of building shelter for others. For your presence silently beside me on this path, I’m profoundly grateful. Thank you for sharing these years; for celebrating despite and because of everything.