Gratitude Is a Way of Seeing
Walker BirdThe Season That Teaches Us to See
My body loves the natural slowing of nature as she prepares to rest for the winter. There’s something about November that asks us to slow down — not because our schedules lighten or life becomes simple, but because the season demands presence. The air cools, the days shorten, and nature begins its long exhale. The harvest is done. The trees release their last brilliant offerings with the knowing grace that, after rest, they will rise again.
I’ve been thinking about how gratitude feels a lot like that—an act of acceptance, release, and faith. It is letting go of what I thought I needed so I can appreciate and enjoy what I already have.
Gratitude Is Perceiving, Not Just Receiving
For most of my life, I misunderstood gratitude. I thought it meant saying “thank you” when I got something good—the easy kind…gratitude for the job that worked out, the relationship that felt right, or the day that went my way. I didn’t yet understand that gratitude isn’t only about receiving. It’s about perceiving.
It’s a way of seeing.
And sometimes, it’s the hardest kind of vision to practice.
The Subtle Work of Remembering (Even on Hard Days)
There are mornings when I wake up and gratitude feels like a foreign language. My body aches. My beloved canine friend, Hughie, has passed. Work feels heavy. Coffee doesn’t even taste right. I can list a dozen reasons to feel frustrated, sad, and lonely before I’ve even brushed my teeth.
But I’ve learned over the years that gratitude doesn’t require my mood’s permission. It’s not waiting for me to feel inspired or settled. Gratitude just asks me to remember there is a world of “good” in the palm of my hand and that the choice is mine, momentarily, to pause long enough to recognize its presence.
A Nightly Micro-Practice
- Close your eyes and take one slow breath.
- Name one small moment from today (light on a window, a voice, a laugh).
- Feel it in your body for ten seconds (notice breath, shoulders, chest).
- Say “thank you”—to life, to God, to the quiet—out loud or silently.
A few years ago, I started this simple practice before going to sleep. Each night, I close my eyes and bring to mind one moment from the day that made me pause…just a flicker of a smile, a laugh, the light hitting the window just so, the sound of my daughter’s voice on the phone. Some nights, it feels like scraping the bottom of an empty barrel, but there is always something there. And the more I do it, the easier it becomes to remember that the universe fills our days with small gifts. If we pick them up and say a heartfelt, “Thank You”, we send out an energy signal that multiplies in return.
That’s the quiet power of gratitude. It trains our eyes to see differently and opens up pathways to receive from our higher self, the universe, source, God. But what we get when we practice gratitude regularly is the realization that a good life is far more than basking in the trumpets and triumphs we have been fooled into accepting as the highest measure of well-being. My daughter reminded me of this recently when I told her I wished her happiness and joy. She told me, “Thanks, Dad. I love you. And, sometimes, I really just want to be content.” She is only 25 years old. And, I am grateful for the wisdom that comes from her old soul. Our lives themselves are miracles. The chances of being a human being in the vastness of space and time are infinitesimal. And we can find deep gratitude every day when we rest in the knowing that who we are, what we’ve done, who we know, and what we have…in this very moment…is enough.
A wise person once said, “Gratitude doesn’t erase pain, but it gives it context.” I think that’s right. Gratitude reminds us that even in the middle of a hard season, beauty exists. A cold dawn seen through a frosted windowpane across a stark landscape of seemingly endless snow is still a new day—and holds its own deep, secret promise of the spring that will eventually come. Looking at life in this context, acknowledging life in every breath, doesn’t cancel the suffering, it holds it, like two hands loosely cupping water.
How Gratitude Calms the Nervous System
Gratitude isn’t only a thought, it’s a full-body experience. When I feel grateful, something happens physiologically. My breath slows. My shoulders drop. My chest opens. There’s a warmth, like being let back into a space I didn’t realize I’d closed off. It’s subtle, but it’s powerful.
And it’s contagious.
If you’ve ever noticed how quickly the energy in a room shifts when someone expresses genuine thanks, you know what I mean. Gratitude brings us back into connection. It lowers defenses. It invites tenderness—something the world is running low on these days.
I don’t think we talk enough about how gratitude changes our nervous system. When we pause and notice what’s good, even for ten seconds, we rewire our body to recognize safety and abundance instead of threat.
It’s easy to think that reflection is an indulgence, something we’ll do when life slows down. But I’ve learned that reflection and gratitude are the essence of life. They bring us back into alignment with what’s real and present.
Visualization: How Gratitude Changes Our Future
Gratitude isn’t always about seeing the gifts of now. When combined with visualization, gratitude helps us remember the gifts that haven’t yet arrived but are already taking shape. In the cold of November, think about the blossoms that will appear on the peach trees in the spring and the glory of the birdsong during the nesting season, followed by the peaches and baby birds and the bounty of the summer. That is the future. We know it is coming. And…we can remember it…even though it is a future event. What we want for ourselves, whether it is relationships, money, travel, material goods, spirituality, health…is all possible in our future. When we visualize what we want AND express gratitude, real gratitude that we feel in our bones, for having it, we begin building a bridge that the universe can use to make it so.
But being a creator, it isn’t only about the grand things. When I first started visualizing, I thought it meant I needed to picture something grand, a new goal, a new adventure, a version of myself who had “arrived.” But visualization isn’t only about achievement. It’s about alignment. Yes, we need to imagine vividly to manifest our desires. But, repeatedly asking can become a message of desperation—a lack of faith that can weaken the energy bridge.
These days, I try to balance my “wanting” visualizations with simple acts of gratitude… and positivity…to keep the energy bridge focused and strong. My visualizations are simple. I see myself walking through my house peacefully at the end of the day, the smell of food cooking, the sound of laughter in another room. I see myself standing in the yard at sunrise, coffee in hand, feeling calm, grounded, and content.
The power of visualization is that it allows gratitude to expand into time. It says, I can be thankful now for what I am creating, even before it shows up.
It’s like planting a seed and already giving thanks for the tree. We need to water that seed, but we do not need to plant another seed every day.
Theresa and I talk a lot about “inner knowing”, that sense of internal guidance that comes when your mind, heart, and body are aligned. Visualization and gratitude are two sides of that same inner compass. One grounds you in presence; the other keeps you pointed toward possibility.
When practiced together, they create a loop of hope—not the kind that ignores hardship but the kind that allows you to keep moving through it.
Reflections from the Trail
Some of you have heard me talk about my hike on the Superior Trail, my first real backpacking trip. It was tough. There were times I wanted to quit, times I cursed my decision, times I thought, “What was I thinking?”
But there was also a moment, deep in the woods, alone, exhausted, surrounded by silence — when I stopped and realized I was doing something I’d dreamed about for years. I was living it.
And in that instant, gratitude hit me so hard I almost laughed. Not because the trail got easier, but because I finally understood that the struggle was part of the gift. Gratitude had caught up to me mid-stride.
That’s what November feels like to me, walking through both the beauty and the ache, realizing they coexist. Gratitude doesn’t wait for the perfect moment. It finds you right in the middle of it all.
A Prayer for the Season
So here’s what I’m holding this month:
May we remember that gratitude is not a finish line — it’s a rhythm.
May our reflections be honest, not polished.
May we find beauty in the quiet corners of our day — the half-light, the undone list, the small mercies, the gentle touches, the hint of a smile.
May we release what’s gone, with tenderness.
And may we visualize our becoming with courage — not because we’re trying to escape where we are, but because we’re learning to love who we are even as we grow.
This November, gratitude feels less like saying “thank you” and more like whispering, I see you. I see myself. I see this life, imperfect and holy, and, most importantly, it is enough.
— Walker