Six Years of Gratitude

Weekly wisdom to bring you home, in 2 minutes or less.

A SHORT STORY

Six years ago, at the start of the pandemic, I turned to Brian and we asked each other, “How can we be of service during this time?”

Instinctually, we started a gratitude group in conversation with my friend Geshe Tenzin Damchoe, a Tibetan monk. And every week since then, I’ve gathered with others around the simple, enduring practice of gratitude.

I share this now not only because of how deeply this practice has changed my life, but because of how language, naming what I’m grateful for, continues to give life.

I found myself reflecting on this as Anastasiia and I walked the streets of Paris this past weekend. The world increasingly feels like it’s shaping the conversation and, in turn, our realities. But for a brief moment, I turned off my phone and stepped into silence.

Between the croissants, the wine, and the endless bread, Anastasiia and I shared what we’re grateful for. We slowed down. And in that quiet, we found ourselves just a little closer.

In the quiet, what do you find yourself returning to?

A POEM

“Love Poem With Apologies for My Appearance” by Ada Limon

originally published in The Carrying

Sometimes, I think you get the worst
of me. The much-loved loose forest green
sweat pants, the long bra-less days, hair
knotted and uncivilized, a shadowed brow
where the devilish thoughts do their hoofed
dance on the brain. I’d like to say this means
I love you, the stained white cotton t-shirt,
the tears, pistachio shells, the mess of orange
peels on my desk, but it’s different than that.
I move in this house with you, the way I move
in my mind, unencumbered by beauty’s cage.
I do like I do in the tall grass, more animal-me
than much else. I’m wrong, it is that I love you,
but it’s more that when you say it back, lights
out, a cold wind through curtains, for maybe
the first time in my life, I believe it.

Grateful,

Michael