On any given day, I write in one of five journals. One is for logging the daily stuff; what happened, what I'm feeling, etc. Another journal helps to gain perspective on patterns over the years. The third is where I log dreams, or as much as I remember of them. The fourth is my venting journal. Here I unleash unedited, unapologetic volumes of anger or frustration that are never delivered. The last would seem to be the least emotionally involved; my gratitude journal. Here I log small wonders that touch me throughout the day. Often times, the entries are little more than brief notes about something I saw or snapshots of conversations that stuck with me.

Unlike the others, my gratitude journal is not about immediate gratification. It is closer to rainy-day savings for my heart. There are days, I'm sure we have all had them, when finding a reason not to launch into a primal scream feels nearly impossible. You know what I mean, the kind of day that starts with the dual realization that (a) laundry never made it to the dryer and (b) you needed to be out the door ten minutes ago. It, of course, usually ends with the cats yakking up hairballs all over the love seat. These are the days the gratitude journal goes to work. Cursing profusely as I open the cover, I start on page one and don't stop reading until I can make a full exhalation from the bottom of my lungs. By the time I'm done, I'm either laughing at my own frustration or smiling at the return of a sense of balance.

So what makes a gratitude journal so powerful? Perspective. That is all it is. Living in gratitude is recognizing that smaller blessings are more lasting and significant than anything life can cough up. For example, now that it's just me, former member of a couple, staring Valentine's Day in the face, I don't have to hold my breath waiting for some appreciation to drop from the sky. According to my journal, it already has...every day. I cite the following from my journal as examples of what is right with my corner of the world. By all means, fill in the blanks that apply to your own life.

• rum raisin ice cream
• lyrics and music by Dave Matthews
• my oldest remarking to me 'sarcasm....it's a beautiful thing'
• the quality of light on a mountainous stretch of Rt. 2 West in the fall
• the scent of my neighbor's lilacs in bloom
• waking with warm purring cats at your feet and curled around your belly - a lesson in contentment
• books by Alice Hoffman
• hearing my kids laughing together
• being able to say to myself, 'yea, I can do that' and truly believing it

Hallmark can't beat that with a stick.
Copyright 2003
The above article is reprinted with permission.