By Annabel Chown

Today is Thanksgiving. It’s been a tradition in the United States since 1621, when the pilgrims celebrated their first successful corn harvest, in Plymouth Colony, Massachusetts. This national holiday has a history too complex to uncover here. But for many Americans, it’s a day on which to express gratitude and thanks. And as a British person, I too often reflect on this in late November.

Gratitude. A rather overused word. An eye-rolling cliché. Associated with pricey journals, T-shirts and mugs emblazoned with cheesy slogans. Plus, with all that’s going on in the world right now, there is much not to be grateful for.

But research (for example, by psychologist Dr. Robert A. Emmons, of the University of California, Davis) has shown practising gratitude actually works. Doing so can lead to an increased sense of wellbeing, and help protect us from stress and depression. Humans have a negativity bias, which means we’re wired to notice problems. A gratitude practice acts as an antidote, connecting us to the parts of our brain associated with positive thinking and reinforcing the neural pathways that boost resilience and optimism.

There are many ways you can practise: you could visualise what you’re grateful for, savouring whatever images bubble up. Or have a conversation with someone close, where you each share what good things happened that day. Or write a list.   

The latter is my favourite. Before bed, I’ll jot down three things I’m grateful for. Specific, not generic, ones. Yesterday’s were the delicious homemade granola I had for breakfast, the bright green moss I spotted on top of an old stone wall, walking back after the morning drop-off at school. And the kindness of the Brazilian male nurse, who held my hand throughout a routine MRI scan, because the machine’s tight tube made me horribly claustrophobic.

I find this practice particularly helpful when life feels heavy and challenging. Not to try and pretend, Pollyanna-style, that all is good, but to remind myself that even amidst hardship, there are still nuggets of goodness to be found. If we’re willing to seek them out.

A gratitude practice calls us to pay attention to life, to keep our eyes open and engage with the world, as we seek out moments of beauty, wonder, joy and connection. And as we hunt these down, we might also start to discover them in unexpected places. Like I did a few days ago, standing in the bitter cold of a deserted London square at dusk, admiring the bare black branches of a cherry tree.

The more we train ourselves to look for these moments, the more of them we uncover, widening our lens of what we can be thankful for. Which not only supports our mental wellbeing, but also infuses our creative pursuits. Because our writing or painting or photography will only become richer, the more attention we pay to the world around us. The more attuned we are to the pale orange of a pre-dawn sky, to the shape and feel of the porcelain that holds our steaming coffee in a favourite café, or to the smell of smoke on an autumn evening, the more we can weave these felt experiences into our creations. 

Gratitude is no cliché, really. Rather, it invites a deep engagement with the pulse of life and reminds us that alongside its darkness and horror is also so much goodness and beauty.

As the poet Mary Oliver, who spent much of her life paying attention to the world and writing about what she perceived reminds us, in Praying:

It doesn’t have to be 
the blue iris, it could be 
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few 
small stones; just 
pay attention, then patch 

a few words together and don’t try 
to make them elaborate, this isn’t 
a contest but the doorway 

into thanks, and a silence in which 
another voice may speak