A Slightly Different Twist to The Practice of Gratitude

A familiar topic these days is the practice of gratitude. Feeling thankful for people and events in our lives and giving voice to those feelings can enhance our well-being.

Recently I was part of a group activity in which we followed a suggestion to look around us and declare our thanks for inanimate objects that we could see. It was fun and humorous and quite definitely lifted our spirits. A lamp was thanked for the light it cast on a writing desk and its gift of clear vision. A pencil was described with thanks for its gift of allowing the writing of thoughts, stories, and poems. Even an eraser received thanks for its gift of correction and encouragement to start over.

The next morning when I sat down to write in my journal, a reflective practice I find beneficial in my life, my pen, quite unbidden, began to write a letter to my journal. Allow me to share this whimsical piece of writing with you.

Dear Journal,

I am writing to you this morning to thank you for being here every day. You are a repository of my thoughts, my “head trash” often, but more often the place where I deposit the germ of an idea that will aid me in my life, either creatively, emotionally, or positively.

The lines you present to me are guides for my writing hand. They encourage a feeling of “flow” through my hand, arm, and even body as well as my brain. You are a sensory experience so many mornings and a reminder of the need to touch and feel the smoothness, the basic weight, of a book in my hands. There is a satisfying response in my mind to your shape, the exactness of your rectangle.

Your cover is a magnificent collage of colour, the butterfly design a symbol of change, of growth, of emergence of beauty hidden until its release as a traveller with wings.

You wait for me each morning prepared to receive my offering of creativity and my hopeful plans for the day. Thank you, my journal, you are so much more than a book.

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  • Linda White says:

    At your mention of the butterfly design on the cover of your beloved journal, I was taken back to a visit we had from our Toronto dear-ones, (our first “bubble” occasion in the past five pandemic months). They brought a glass container with breathing holes in it, containing three hanging pupae that they had been observing on their stand of milkweed. We watched them grow inside and then burst out, each in turn, into stunning Monarch butterflies which we lovingly released, with thankful thoughts.

    • Judith says:

      What a lovely gift and a reminder that the right time will come when we can be released from our pandemic bubble

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