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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.
About
the Author: Catie Gosselin is founder/editor of WomanLinks.com.
She is a freelance writer, a homeschooling mom of two, and an avid fan
of laughter, cats and chocolate (not necessarily in that order).
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