Practicing Gratitude
I have kept a gratitude practice for many years. If I said it transformed me from a sarcastic cynic into a joy-seeking Pollyanna, I would be exaggerating. But it has made a meaningful difference in how I move through my day.
Every evening, I take a moment to remind myself of five things I’m grateful for from that day. The idea is to touch on whatever comes to mind first, without digging for something profound. Today, for example, I’m grateful for time in my studio, the volunteer marigold blooming in a barren front garden bed, the soup I had for lunch, and the funny cat video a long-distance friend shared. And my bed. I’m always grateful for my bed. By running through the day quickly, I’m able to notice the small things, and the practice has led me to stay mindful of those small moments as they happen.
2024 was a year of losses for me. The most devastating was the damage to my building caused by Hurricane Helene’s flooding. Even though I had closed my gallery in WNC and moved away in 2023, I still owned my gallery’s building. The floodwaters rose six feet inside the building and left eight inches of mud on everything. For weeks, I worked alongside volunteers, mucking out mud and debris, and in order to save the building from total ruin, gutting it almost down to the studs.
I did not feel gratitude for the flood, the mud, or the backbreaking work. I was not grateful for the loss of nearly every improvement I had made over the decade I’d owned the building, including the cozy apartment I built for myself in 2022. I wasn’t grateful for the loss of my income and the peaceful semi-retirement I believed I would have. I was raw and angry, and my heart was broken.
I was, however, grateful beyond measure for the volunteers. Even now, I am moved to tears remembering how caring, thoughtful, and generous they were. And although it felt strange at first, I eventually understood that they, too, were grateful for the chance to show up and help. Gratitude can take up a lot of space.
Because practicing gratitude was already a routine for me, I returned to it every night, even on the most exhausting days. I would lie in bed and list what I was grateful for: Epsom salts in my bath, my crochet project, soft slippers after a day in muck boots, toast with peanut butter and honey, and the surprising peace of having no internet. The practice kept me grounded and kept me going during the immediate aftermath of the natural disaster.
After so many years of doing this, it’s second nature to effortlessly find joy in small things in my life and around me. And during those dark weeks last year, it saved me from falling into total despair.
Running a creative business asks a lot of us: resilience, adaptability, and persistence. Practicing daily gratitude allows us to see the abundance around us. Caring for your inner landscape is not separate from your work, and it can shape how you make decisions, create, and support others.