Being thankful is not a checklist of items you write before bed.

Gratitude isn’t a practice you force. It’s not a rigid list of “what went well” before you shut your eyes.

But that’s where I started.

I was in deep dissatisfaction. I couldn’t see the light. I was surrounded by so much internal noise, I couldn’t feel anything.

Those lists helped. They were the only thing that gave me some kind of structure.

So I wrote:

Grateful for breath.

Grateful for my body.

Grateful for a roof over my head.

And I told myself, fake it till you make it.

And I did. For a while.

But eventually, I started asking—what is real gratitude?

How do I embody it? Not just before bed, but all day long. Every day. In the middle of chaos. In the middle of beauty.

That’s what I want to write about.

It Starts With a Moment

True gratitude starts in the present moment.

It requires you to pause. To reflect. To feel.

Not to think your way into a list, but to stop and ask:

What felt like love today? What felt like magic? What felt like awe?

A Meditation, A Message, A Moment of Love

One day, a woman sent me a voice note recommending a meditation.

She told me how deeply it had impacted her. How it opened something in her. She sent it from such an honest place.

I believed her. I trusted that message.

So I went.

And the meditation was powerful. Deep. Activating.

I cried. I softened. I reconnected to something inside of me.

I met people like me. I met other women like me. And I remembered how important community is, how powerful it is to be invited into something someone loves.

Later that night, I thought of her.

I silently sent her love. Not in a text, not with words.

Just love radiating outward. Quiet and intentional.

That’s gratitude.

That’s where it lives.

Letting People Help You Is a Form of Gratitude Too

Another day, I was moving houses. A friend stopped by and asked,

“Do you need help carrying your luggage?”

I could’ve said no. It was just a carry-on and a few backpacks.

But instead, I said yes.

I accepted the help.

Because people want to be of service.

They want to show up. They want to be appreciated. And they want to feel close.

So I let him help.

And that night, I thought about that moment. I paused. I gave thanks. Not with a list. Not out loud. Just within me.

That’s what it means to be grateful.

To receive—and then reflect.

An Alpaca and a Pause

Here in Peru, I walk by the river almost every day.

One day, I saw a little alpaca eating grass. Just standing there. Present. Quiet.

I could’ve kept walking. I had things to do.

Products to build. Intellectual thoughts to think. Hamburgers to eat.

But I stopped.

And I looked at this creature.

And I said—out loud, with a little smile:

“Hey. What a wonderful little being. Thank you for all those sweaters. For eating grass in such a cute way. For existing on this planet, Earth.”

Childlike Wonder Lives in the Body

I took off my shoes. I walked barefoot by the river.

I stepped into the cold stream and let the water wash over my toes. I splashed around like a little kid.

And in that moment, there was nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hurry. No pressure. Just the moment.

And that’s what I want more of.

Those small, soft, childlike moments of peace. Of joy. Of barefoot presence.

That, too, is gratitude.

The Rose and the Tree

Later that same day, I saw a single pink rose glowing in the sun.

It wasn’t a big, dramatic thing—just a rose among trees. But it stopped me.

I admired it. I felt something.

And then I hugged a eucalyptus tree.

Because why not?

What struck me was how the eucalyptus tree was growing from another trunk—an old tree that had either been cut down or had already passed away.

New life growing from something old.

Softness growing from grief.

That hit me.

It reminded me that gratitude lives in noticing.

In seeing life where we often rush past it. In making space for symbolism without needing to explain it.

Gratitude Doesn’t Dull Your Intellect—It Sharpens Your Awareness

People sometimes think that slowing down takes away from your work. That’s a distraction from your goals.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

Gratitude doesn’t take away your edge.

It makes you sharper. Clearer. Calmer.

When I walk through the world in this way—with presence and thanks and curiosity—it becomes easier to zoom out.

To see what matters.

To soften my grip on what’s not working.

To stop fixating on the problems.

And to start seeing everything that is working.

Try This Tonight

If you want to practice this kind of gratitude, here’s what I suggest:

Tonight, before bed, don’t write a checklist.

Just ask yourself:

• What felt like magic today?
• What made me smile?
• What stopped me, even for a moment?

Then close your eyes and send a little bit of silent love out into the world.

That’s it.

Not a list. Not a performance.

Just a wave of thanks.

And the more you practice this,

the more your whole energy begins to shift.

You start to move through life with softness.

With beauty. With love.

And when the big things come—because they always do—you’ll know how to hold them.

Because you’ve been practicing all along.