Reaping What We Sow
You hear a lot, these days, about gratitude. Everywhere you look there are gratitude journals and gratitude podcasts, and probably some catchy gratitude platitudes for needlepoint samplers as well. There’s also some honest-to-god science. Research shows that a regular gratitude practice can reduce depression and anxiety, and increase our sense of optimism and well-being. It might seem a little woo-woo, but it works.
People often talk about “cultivating” gratitude, but that sounds like a lot of work—as if we need to get out a rake and hoe and start pushing dirt around in the garden. Sometimes we get so used to a life of hustling and striving that we begin to think of it as the point of it all. Even though hard work is sometimes its own reward, it’s also a means to an end. We don’t till the soil just to smell the earth and see the long, straight rows. We do it for the promise of a harvest.
We’ve already done a lot of work to create the lives we have. We’ve put in time and attention and caring to build connections with the ones we love. We’ve labored to keep a roof over our heads and food in our mouths. We’ve spent countless hours nurturing and protecting our families. For years, we’ve prepared the soil and sowed the seeds so all of that could grow. To reap the benefits, all we need to do is pay attention and appreciate them. Why would we leave those crops lying in the fields?
To wake up beside the person you love, to walk through a forest on two strong legs, to laugh with an old friend over dinner, to pause for a moment of peace at the end of a long day--those are the bounty that we’ve already earned. By taking them in, we claim the pleasure and sustenance they were meant to provide, and we let them feed us. Isn’t that why we worked so hard in the first place?
Even unexpected pleasures—a long summer sunset, a scent of jasmine on the breeze, a hummingbird darting from bloom to bloom—are ours to harvest, if we choose. They’re the wild forage that the universe plants in our path, asking nothing of us in return but to notice and receive. We’d be fools to pass them by.
