glimmers of gratitude
written by Elisabeth Sweet
On sunny days, gratitude is a breeze. It’s an afterthought, a reason to slide your sunglasses to the top of your head and pause, smile. With people you love and in moments of joy, gratitude is not necessary, but it’s nice.
Gratitude for others is perhaps the easiest. We feel grateful for what others bring, uncover, and ignite in us. We recognize the good and the grace in them; sometimes, I wonder, if this is because they recognize the good and the grace in us. In these moments, gratitude is a mirror, a reflection — coupled with awareness — of a soul at ease. Gratitude can become overwhelming when we see the flaws in ourselves that others have accepted, when we realize that we are not the only ones who must daily deal with the eccentricities of our human harbored spirit. In these moments of empathy and recognition, gratitude is sufficient for love.
When I began glimmers of gratitude, I was in a good place. My body was strong and my family united. I announced on Twitter that I would write a haiku every day for 31 days, create a visualization with the text, mint both on-chain with 8scribo on Tezos, and share via social media. I set this discipline to challenge my creative practice. And like every good Virgo, I thrive with a routine.
Over the next 31 days, the ball-end of a bone left its socket, bruises covered my body, a heart splintered, and a man died. Good fell to grief. I wanted to retreat, to sink. The self-mandated challenge on social media helped keep me afloat — I am not one to make a promise I cannot keep. I forced myself to find at least one glimmer of gratitude each day. Some days I resented it, the way you resent your partner when they tell you exactly what they need, and you recoil at the thought of comfort on command. Call it rigor, desperation, pride — I made myself feel grateful when I couldn’t feel at all. I turned those fraught feelings into haikus and pastel abstractions, fit for the feed, the grid, the story.
In moments of deep pain and sorrow, confusion and regret, gratitude is necessary and sufficient for survival.
When sodden with despair, the catharsis of minting something as small as a haiku painted on a pixelated square is ineffable. I did this thing that ultimately doesn’t matter, that few people will see and fewer will like, but still, I did it. That act of channeling, creating, and sharing — this is the fundamental process of our human species.
Gratitude is a value, something that is important to me, that I strive to feel and share within myself and with others. Gratitude keeps me grounded, helps me see that things are not as bad as they may seem. Even if it’s just a glimmer, it’s enough to keep creating.