On gratitude

If you are on Instagram, I imagine you know of at least one person – or you follow one influencer – who has some kind of gratitude practice.

I find these public gratitude practices rather irritating. A few months ago, I was talking with some friends about a mutual acquaintance's gratitude posts, which we all agreed were insufferable but couldn't say exactly why. (This acquaintance also has a real knack for latching onto whatever's trending: soon, they were done with gratitude and onto astrology.)

I think the issue – or complication, to be more precise – with these public displays of gratitude is that they veer dangerously close to run-of-the-mill status-chasing or influencer content. There's something of the humble brag about them, since the whole point of a gratitude practice is to counteract our natural negative bias by focusing on the abundance in our lives. When done privately, it can be an eye-opening exercise that gives us perspective. When published for others to see, it can feel like a performance: "Look at all this stuff I've got!" Everything takes on a different sheen when we do it in front of an audience.

(Also, and this is the issue with social media more broadly, when people make this big pretend show like their followers just caught them about to make a cup of tea? Like, oh, it's you! Didn't see you there. Let me dispense some wisdom to you in this very relaxed, not-at-all-staged setting. There is nothing to be done about it, we all deliberately post on social media yet desire to seem spontaneous and authentic, which requires artifice.)

(I do want to note that some people are simply better at projecting authenticity – and I don't mean that in a snide way, it's a real skill to be able to be sincere on Instagram without seeming insufferable or phony– and they can do mostly whatever they want.)

These public gratitude practices also carry certain risks: they often recount relationships, possessions, and careers that are impermanent (like all things). It's important to be grateful for them, but without relying on them for your happiness or sense of self.

Instead, I think there are things available – in nearly every moment – that can create a sense of gratitude untethered to possessions or circumstances. This, to me, is one interpretation of Thich Nhat Hanh's famous quotation: "Happiness is available. Please help yourself to it."

For instance, last week while I was waiting at a stop sign on a rainy day, I saw a little girl wearing pink galoshes splashing joyfully in a puddle. Yesterday, I glanced out the window of my new condo, where the daughter of my downstairs neighbor was out in the shared backyard, doing cartwheels and high kicks. She seemed very free and uninhibited, which is notable as she appeared to be about 12 years old. (I didn't linger at the window because I didn't want to intrude upon that freedom with my attention.) Back in the East End to finish packing up my old apartment, I saw a woman cajoling a Bernese Mountain Dog puppy that did not want to walk anymore.

The natural world is also extremely reliable when it comes to moments of everyday transcendence. A gentle breeze rustling some leaves? Really knocks my lights out. Birds unexpectedly taking flight nearby? Instant wonder. Sunlight reflecting off the water? What a joy.

Earlier today, I was on a tedious work call when I was shaken out of my stupor by the appearance of a little gray bird at the window, his big glassy black eyes resting on me for just a moment before he took flight again.