The 4 AM Conversation
Some mornings on a day off, walking to 7-Eleven in the pre-dawn quiet, I find myself in conversation with something larger than myself. Not formal prayer exactly, just acknowledgment. Being grateful for the free schedule ahead, enough cash for groceries, the precious privacy of empty streets before the world wakes.
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I’m a private person by nature, not particularly outgoing, so these small moments—nodding to the shop clerk who recognizes me as a regular, brief eye contact with the occasional early riser—feel like gentle threads connecting me to community without overwhelming my need for space.
That walk home from 7-Eleven, arms full of coffee and simple groceries, feels like abundance. Not because I have much, but because I have enough for today.
What small, quiet routine or moment in your day makes you feel the most abundant?
The Spider’s Wisdom
I’ve been thinking about gratitude differently lately. Not as positive thinking or some spiritual law that guarantees results, but more like the persistence of a spider. Climb, fall, climb again. Maybe gratitude isn’t about reaching the destination—it’s about acknowledging each attempt, each small climb.
When I start my evening jog, I tell myself in those first minutes that I’m grateful regardless of whether I complete the full route. Not because I’m aiming low, but because the willingness to just show up and run deserves respect.
That might sound philosophical, but it’s practical too. We live on what appears to be a perfectly round planet spinning through space—if that’s not evidence of some kind of intelligence or staging, I don’t know what is. The whole thing could be an illusion, but either way, we’re here for the ride. Might as well stay positive.
When you start a challenging task, what simple promise do you make to yourself to acknowledge your effort, regardless of the outcome?
When Gratitude Flows Naturally
The strangest thing about gratitude is when you don’t have to think about it at all. Working outside on the farm, getting sun and exercise, away from concrete and into fields and trees—it just happens. My body shows the work, and that feels honest in a way office environments never did.
Having physical exercise built into my schedule balances all those happy hours at the computer. My addiction to hope and tinkering with this blog gets balanced by honest labor. I’m grateful for bosses who trust me with their family business, for neighboring farmers who nod acknowledgment across property lines.
In my teaching, gratitude surprises me regularly. Students who’ve been coming for years—not because they need more grammar lessons, but because they want to talk. Real conversation about everything from daily schedules to out-of-body experiences. One student told me my lessons felt like going to church. Another said I was a bit like a priest to them.
I’m not qualified to be a therapist, but I understand the need to express yourself when you come from a culture with a stiff upper lip. In Japan, maybe I’m a breath of fresh air for people who need to talk about things they can’t discuss elsewhere.
Where do you find yourself—an environment or activity—where gratitude and a feeling of ‘honest work’ just happen, without you having to force it?
The Inner Dialogue
Here’s the honest truth about gratitude: it feels like an inner dialogue with God, regardless of physical circumstances. Not dependent on outcomes or other people’s moods.
I tend to see any lack in my life as my fault rather than something to blame the universe for. Maybe that’s why I don’t find it hard to be grateful—there’s always something worth acknowledging if you can look outside the box and stop living in fear.
When my wife left for America after twenty years, I spent about seven months feeling genuinely sad. But even then, I was grateful for the journey, for having been able to serve and support them when they needed it. The pain of losing someone you’re dedicated to supporting is just part of life.
When faced with loss or a period of sadness, what is one thing you were still able to feel grateful for, even amidst the pain?
The Game We’re Playing
Sometimes I think of life as a game of sorts. We sleep, dream, live, maybe die. I don’t go to bed hoping or expecting to wake up—whatever happens, happens. There’s never been an inner dialogue where I hope for something more. If anything, I hope whatever comes after this life is more interesting.
No one likes getting old, but that’s part of the story. Maybe when it’s our time to separate from these aging bodies, we’ll appreciate the contrast—like how difficult things make us more grateful for ease.
Could choosing to be ungrateful for my financial situation make it worse? Who knows? But focusing on what’s lacking has never felt as useful as acknowledging what’s here.
When I Feel Most Grateful
The deepest gratitude comes when I’m serving others—teaching, helping students express themselves, working alongside or for my farming bosses. That’s when I feel most authentic, most part of something useful.
Like that day my boss canceled work unexpectedly, giving me solitude to focus without distraction. I came home grateful not just for the free time, but for discovering something about my own nature—how much I value those quiet, focused moments.
Or teaching kids, getting that intense eye contact from the ones who seem to really enjoy the interaction. One little boy and I started waving at our reflections in the classroom window, pretending there was another boy outside. “Are you okay out there? Are you cold?” It became our ritual. I’m like a big kid, I suppose.
Beyond your immediate family, who or what brings you that deep feeling of being ‘most authentic’ and useful in service to others?
The Mystery of It
Gratitude feels like a concept that’s difficult to pin down with definitive answers. It’s part of staying positive, part of acknowledging the journey of being alive. When you’re in a glass-half-full mood, gratitude flows more easily than when the glass feels half-empty.
Maybe it’s just good spiritual practice—that conversation with something larger, that acknowledgment of what we have knowing it might deteriorate or cease to exist. Not because we’re trying to manipulate outcomes, but because it feels honest and humble to be grateful.
I can’t prove the energy or results of gratitude any more than I can prove prayer works. But both feel like necessary conversations, ways of staying connected to something beyond immediate circumstances.
When life feels difficult, what’s a small, personal ritual you use to help shift your glass-half-empty mood back towards ‘half-full’?
The Simple Truth
Walking home from 7-Eleven this morning, coffee in hand, I realized gratitude isn’t something I practice as much as something that happens when I’m paying attention. When I’m serving others, working with my hands, creating space for real conversation, acknowledging the intelligence behind this whole mysterious setup we’re living in.
It’s not about being thankful for everything—some things genuinely suck. It’s about recognizing that even difficult experiences are part of some larger story we can’t fully understand.
Like the spider climbing and falling and climbing again. Grateful for the ability to climb, for the goal of the next attempt, for whatever intelligence designed us to keep trying.
What does gratitude feel like in your daily life? Do you find it in specific moments, or is it always there?
Share your thoughts below. I respond to every comment, and your experience often helps others more than mine does.
Those 4 AM walks to 7-Eleven (on my days off) have become my something to be grateful for. Grateful for some quiet and alone time, empty streets, cash for coffee and groceries, for empty streets, for the shop clerk who recognizes me. It’s a type of abundance disguised as ordinary.
How about you? What are you grateful for and has your measurement of gratitude or compass for gratitude changed as you’ve evolved?