Gratitude Is No Platitude: Creating Real Resilience In The Time Of COVID-19

To arrive at a place of real resilience in the time of COVID-19, we must first broaden our perceptions of what is good—or for that matter, what is meaningful. That "broadening" is the essence of gratitude, a vital component in staying well, both mentally and physically. If we spend the majority of our time judging much of what we see as bad or frightening, we will spend most of our time in fear, and it's in fear that we injure our heath and make it extremely hard to arrive at good decisons. To head this off, I follow the practice below every morning as a way to counteract my tendency to get overly selective about what I consider “good.” This helps me to set a positive tone for the rest of the day.

Harnessing the power of morning

As soon as I open my eyes I say an age-old prayer of thanks called the Modeh Ani. And though it consists of just one line, the timing of reciting it is critical, especially on cold, dark mornings: According to tradition, it’s said immediately upon waking, so that gratitude floods our very first thoughts.

“I give thanks to you living and eternal King, for You have returned my soul to me with compassion; Your truth is great.”

Rabbi and New York Times Bestseller, Simon Jacobson describes the Modeh Ani prayer in these terms:

“The origins of the Modeh Ani, like many prayers, typically occurred in the Talmudic era, around 1800 to 2000 years ago, at the beginning of the Common Era. Its intent was to help us understand that at the foundation of every healthy and happy life is a realization that not everything is about us.

“All the vices—greed, selfishness, and narcissism—happen as soon as we start to think that we’re at the center of the universe and that everybody and everything else is there to serve ‘us.’ The first thing you want to have in the morning is some awareness that there’s something greater than yourself. So when you wake up and immediately say, ‘Thank you for returning my soul to me,’ you gain an understanding that you’re not self-made.”

Like so many routines and behaviors that purport to improve one’s life, waking up and intoning a 2000-year-old prayer is far easier thought about than done. I found my own attempts more often a garbled grunt than consequential invocation. But one morning about three years ago, I ignored my native sloth, skepticism, and general tendency towards melancholy. Then I did something different after mumbling the prayer. I sat up in bed and began to voice those things I felt grateful for. By doing so, I saw the intricate details of my surroundings as I rarely had: not as unimportant, taken-for-granted minutiae but very real, very important, contributions to my wellbeing. After reciting the Modeh Ani, I stared up at the shadows on the A-framed ceiling in our bedroom and said the following words, quietly, but nonetheless out loud:

“I am thankful I woke up in a space with a roof that protects me from the rain.”

The idea of protection from rain is so basic that most of us forget how many people in the world lack this luxury. And though my bedroom is nice, until that moment I never would have used the word “luxurious” to characterize anything about it. But as I watched the gathering clouds from my window and rain seemed ever more imminent, the term seemed ever more apt.

Then, I moved my concentration to the bed: “I am thankful for these blankets, they’re so soft and warm.” From there I looked at my hands. “I am utterly grateful that I can move them at will, grateful that I can use them to write and draw and play guitar.” A stream of blessings then flooded my mind: the hot water in my bathroom (another under-appreciated luxury); my close friends (I said the names of at least ten aloud); my mother and my siblings; the vivid memories of my late father and sister; and finally, my wife and my four children. Suddenly, without my even noticing, I had shifted from a blasé’ mood into something far different.

I felt true joy.

I experienced what happens in the dramatic mental shift when our thoughts move from “I need more” to “I have so much.”

When I made my way downstairs, I saw my wife happily reading The New York Times and drinking her twig tea. Instead of upsetting her with my stress and worries, I experienced true gratitude for her presence in my life. Instead of complaining about a laundry list of things I had to get done, I felt grateful for the ability to do them. Instead of seeking anything more than what I had at that moment. In the now—the “present,” if you’ll accept the pun—I was content exactly as I was.

The strength of “I am.”

I want to mention something regarding the strength of the spoken word. I am the third in a family of four children. As a kid I believed, rightly or wrongly, that to deserve love I needed to be seen as exceptional (whatever that means). My older sister was loved, or so I assumed, simply by dint of being the oldest; my older brother because he was the first boy; and my younger sister because she was the baby. As third, I was none of those things. I was just ordinary and feared being ordinary and average. In my imagination, average meant I could be left behind. On some level, much of my creative work is an outgrowth of that same youthful fear. Even as I finished that last sentence, I fought a decades-old urge to look over my shoulder for some nameless someone, threatening to judge my words and beliefs.

But not long ago, I decided to think less about those youthful fears and more about my life’s purpose. It didn’t take more than a moment to develop an understanding of this. My purpose, my raison d’être, comes down to this: I am a person who inspires joy and hope in people.

Sounds simple, right? But I found that it was a difficult idea to express. Internally I knew it was true—but to actually speak it aloud felt very uncomfortable. Doing so in the presence of others proved especially unnerving. To declare: “I am a person who inspires joy and hope in people,” felt like such a weird thing—untruthful, even—especially when I recalled all the times I “inspired” only sadness and doubt in people!

But the declaration of our ideas gives them power. Speech creates a north star, a more concrete version of our aspirations than “unspoken” thoughts. And when we “reach for the star,” it’s far more likely we will grasp it and begin the work we were created to do: a process author Kahlil Gibran once called “making love visible.” 

Whether I work with self-discovering students or seasoned business leaders, I often ask them what they believe they were born to do. Usually a fair amount of uncertainty (and sometimes annoyance) comes with the question. No surprise then that I hear responses not fully formed, words that lack commitment.

“I sometimes think I might be...”

“Well, I suppose there’s a part of me that...”

“I don’t know, I guess there are certain times when I...”

“Once in awhile I’ll sort of sense that I...”

I understand how tough it is to state and share something so aspirational as one’s “life purpose” out loud, particularly in front of a group of peers. It can feel pompous, phony or just plain stupid. But think about it. What is less pompous, less phony or less stupid than reinforcing the core beliefs that shape your sense of purpose in the world? When I work with people I often direct them to put their aspirational beliefs into a very short sentence that begins: “I am.”

“I am a person who uses her resources for the benefit of others.”

“I am a person who will leave a legacy of good for the people I encounter.”

“I am a person who is independent and helps others find their independence.”

“I am a person who works to bring out the best in others.”

Or the short declarative sentence I heard from a young woman recently in Nashville:

“I am courageous.”

Those sentences sparkle with commitment. Far from an equivocation, an “I am” sentence offers a declaration, and when made in public it can change a person on the spot. Though often comprised of very simple ideas, they can create a touchstone for all types of personal transformation. When we speak aloud the things we believe in, we better equip ourselves to act on those beliefs. You could even argue that these statements bring us closer to our spiritual core. The ultimate “I am” statement is “I will be what I will be,” an English translation of the ineffable Hebrew phrase ??????? ?????? ???????—what Moses heard God speak from the burning bush.

Neuroscientist and best-selling author Daniel Levitin explained to me the effect on the brain of a concerted, daily practice that enunciates gratitude:

“There’s a part of the brain in the pre-frontal cortex—near the front of your head — that is the seat of your thoughts about yourself, the hub of self-centeredness. It is what allows you to understand social hierarchies, assert yourself and pursue your ambitions. There’s nothing wrong with spending time in this part of your brain: In fact, you can be thankful for having it. But experiencing gratitude pulls you out of yourself, and broadens your perspective to see that you are not the center of the universe. You don’t control everything, and that puts your daily problems into perspective. When we experience the open receptiveness of gratitude, brain activity shifts a few millimeters upward to areas associated with social reward, interpersonal bonding, and creativity.”

Mental Door Opener (MDO) #2. Daily Gratitude List (15 seconds)

The Bottom Line: This MDO will give you a more optimistic attitude about your work and life overall.

It’s time to begin shifting our brain activity “upward,” as Daniel Levitin described it. Your simple task for right now: Wherever you are, think of three things you’re grateful for and say them out loud.

Your simple task for tomorrow morning: Do the same thing as soon as you wake up. Granted, a daily gratitude list isn’t a new idea. But this MDO draws its power based on when you make your list. Because you prioritize it by making it your very first conscious activity, expressing gratitude grounds you. Exercising your gratitude muscles becomes a primary focus of this day—and hopefully every day going forward.

It might feel awkward at first to verbalize the things you’re grateful for—especially if you’ve just woken up next to someone who’s still asleep. But whispering them is OK, too; I do that myself most mornings. The key here is to do this MDO every day rather than simply think about it. Consider the MDO like brushing your teeth, a morning must-do.

Your things on your gratitude list needn’t be huge. In fact, small, everyday things can have big advantages. You don’t need to have won the lottery the night before to do this. For example, this morning my list was:

?      I’m grateful to wake up next to someone I love.

?      I’m grateful for the book on Frederick Douglass I just read.

?      I’m grateful I can breathe.

To do that took me no more than seven seconds.

You can also start writing your daily list in a notebook you keep on your nightstand. Writing like speaking, lends weight to the experience and creates a record of things you’re thankful for—especially as your lists grow over time. What a beautiful thing to have near you as you sleep (way better than your smartphone!).

Remember: As I mentioned earlier, words expressed always brandish more power than the ones we keep to ourselves. And as you open up to this practice, limitless blessings will rush into your consciousness without effort: You don’t have to dig hard to find what’s already there. And giving thanks for what’s already there—as opposed to some object or attainment “out there”—can change how you see yourself, the world and your place in it.  

Do this MDO now.

“We become what we think about.”—Earl Nightingale