I hope you had a great Thanksgiving. I was mixing up a pumpkin pie cake that morning in the bowl above. I love that bowl. I set down the whisk to turn on the oven, and when I looked back at the bowl, happiness swept over me. I was grateful for the bowl, the colors inside of it, my dog laying on the floor, the sunlight filtering in through the curtain, The Splendid Table playing on the radio, the pumpkin-scented candle beside me, my daughter, landing soon at the airport.
Where does gratitude live? Maybe in the ordinary moments, when you notice every detail and catch yourself breathing slowly to memorize this second. Gratitude often seems as skittish as a feral cat, but the more I seek it, the more it elbows its way into my brain, crowding out the less-useful thoughts, like worry. This has surprised me.
I'm finding the more I think about good things, the more good things seem to crop up. Not outlandish things, like winning the lottery or suddenly waking up with a skinny waist (let's get real, people),but small things, like beautiful golden leaves falling from a tree, a lush sunset, or the scent of baking bread. I try to stay alert to these minor wonders and to specifically ponder three of them each night as I fall asleep. I got this idea out of a book. Sounds corny, but it has altered my thinking profoundly, kind of like planting seeds which slowly take root and grow. Who knew gratitude was so powerful? The mysteries of life are endless. That's the best part.
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