The Gratitude Diaries

by Janice Kaplan

  I told Marc that living in New York City, I walked a mile or two almost every day. It got me where I wanted to go, but as he suggested, it didn’t seem to do much for my mood. But that hour in the woods over the weekend had been sheer bliss. Was it too big a stretch to think that nature could naturally inspire feelings of gratitude?

  “It certainly could. Nature improves well-being, and gratitude is part of that,” he said.

  Well, that made me feel better. At least someone with a PhD thought I might be onto something.

  The married couple Rachel and Stephen Kaplan (not related to me), two longtime professors at the University of Michigan whom Marc worked with in graduate school, began studying the restorative powers of nature decades ago. They set the stage by explaining that we feel stressed out when our “directed attention” is worn down. We’re pulled in too many directions or concentrating so intently that we get depleted. In nature, our minds can wander and get revitalized. They described a natural environment as having “soft fascination,” which allows us to relax and reflect without feeling overwhelmed. As Professor Stephen put it, “Clouds, sunsets, snow patterns, the motion of the leaves in the breeze—these readily hold the attention but in an undramatic fashion.”

  True enough, though it depends on what you consider “undramatic.” Nature lowers stress and improves our ability to focus. New studies show it also increases creativity and may help children who have problems with attention and delayed gratification. Professor Rachel said the right environment could help people become more psychologically healthy by restoring a sense of balance and meaning. In an early study, she found that people who looked out to trees or other natural settings from their office windows were healthier, liked their jobs more, and reported greater life satisfaction than those with less inspiring views.

  Various lab studies show that being in nature gives our prefrontal cortex (the area responsible for executive function) a rest. Being among those clouds, trees, and fragrant flowers produces a soothing rhythm that connects us to something bigger than ourselves. We feel grateful to be a part of this magical world.

  —

  The next weekend, I went out for another run on Granny’s AT, and the scientific explanations I’d learned fit how I felt. I didn’t have to think about anything—the positive feelings just came to me. Just as when I wrote in my gratitude diary, I felt connected to the cosmos and grateful to be alive.

  I stopped at the edge of the river and stood for a very long time, mesmerized by the little eddies that formed at my feet and the green moss that covered the rocks like bits of velvet. Earlier in the week, I’d spoken to the marvelous filmmaker Louie Schwartzberg, who has had his cameras trained on nature 24/7 for the last thirty years. The resulting time-lapse films he created from years of steady work are breathtakingly glorious, showing flowers blossoming and mushrooms unfurling, butterflies emerging from cocoons and trees spiraling toward the sky.

  “The images connect you to the outside world and you feel vibrations of gratitude deep in your heart for everyday wonders,” he said. “The earth puts out magnetic vibrations, and what I capture and share with people freezes those vibrations. The feelings of gratitude occur on a visceral level before the cognitive brain even has a chance to kick in.”

  He created one film called Wings of Life (narrated by Meryl Streep), which intimately reveals bees interacting with flowers. “Pollination is a beautiful love story between the flower and the bee—a tiny event that occurs billions of times a day—and if it didn’t, life on this planet would be radically different,” he said. “That’s the magic, this web of interrelated relationships in nature happening every moment, that makes us grateful.”

  His work mesmerized me as it unveiled nature’s mysteries, too small or fast for the eye to otherwise see. “It’s the little things that make us grateful,” he said. “The moments people cherish are the small ones with children and family or Sunday breakfast with a cup of coffee. Those open your heart to gratitude.”

  Given all he had seen, I asked what images still made him pause with that heartfelt sense of wonder.

  “I never get tired of watching flowers open, or slow-motion shots of hummingbirds or butterflies. I’ve seen some of my images several hundred times, and I don’t get bored because I feel that visceral gratitude for what I’m repeatedly observing. Nature’s beauty is a gift that cultivates gratitude.”

  The nineteenth-century naturalist John Muir once said that “the clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.” Some emotion that I could only call gratitude emerged when I walked in a forest, stood on a mountaintop, or looked out to the ocean. Clearly both Muir and Schwartzberg know what it means to feel at one with the vastness of the universe.

  When I got home, I found Ron sitting on an Adirondack chair on our large wraparound deck, staring off to the mountains. He had his iPad on his lap but didn’t seem to be reading.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Just sitting here,” said my usually hyperactive husband.

  I plopped down in the chair next to him. “Then I’ll sit here too,” I said.

  We sat very quietly, watching the sun settling behind the mountains as the sky lit up with streaks of brilliant orange. I told Ron about my run and my new theory about how being in nature inspired gratitude. We didn’t have to consciously focus on how grateful we were to be here, to be alive, because nature announced its marvels, and we felt it deep in our bodies and souls.

  “My soul can find no staircase to heaven save earth’s loveliness,” I said.

  “Led Zeppelin?” he asked.

  “It’s from Michelangelo, actually. When he wasn’t painting the Sistine Chapel, he wrote a few poems on the side.”

  “Nice.” He picked up his iPad, and in a moment, the gentle strains of Zeppelin’s classic song filled the air.

  “Are you making fun of me?” I asked.

  “Nope. It just struck me that you’re right. Being part of nature is the real stairway to heaven.”

  He reached over and took my hand as dusk settled behind the trees. I thought of how many poems and songs have been written about love, and how many about the beauties of nature. When we are in the thrall of either, we feel a gratitude deep in our souls. Maybe it’s oxytocin or endorphins or other chemicals that are released and connect us to the greater world. Maybe it is the joy we feel that makes us grateful. It is the stairway we mount to feel the beauty in the universe.

  CHAPTER 11

  Losing Weight on the Amazing Gratitude Diet

  Grateful to appreciate every meal (and snack)

  Happy to start filling up on gratitude rather than food

  Lucky to find how gratitude can make me strong

  With gratitude improving all aspects of my life, I started to wonder what it could do for the one area that still bugged me—my weight. I’ve always been in reasonably good shape and have sometimes been very fit. But like many women, I currently weighed ten pounds more than I wanted. I’d lost and regained those same pounds many times over the years and spent too much time thinking about bulges, real or imagined.

  My husband didn’t understand my weight obsession. He always thought I looked great (bless him), and as a skinny guy who could stare down a chocolate cupcake and never flinch, he found it baffling that I moaned about my jeans being too tight and then ate a pint of rocky road ice cream. (The low-fat version, but nonetheless—a pint!) He tried to avoid conversations about my weight, but one morning, he happened to be in the room when I tried on a navy cotton knit dress and twisted around in front of the mirror.

  “I can’t wear this,” I complained. “It makes my butt look the size of Rhode Island, don’t you think?”

  “Rhode Island is a very small state,” he said.

  I glared at him. “Are you joking? That comment is probably grounds for divorce in at least three states.”

  �
�I’m only being accurate. A big butt would metaphorically be the size of Texas, and you’re definitely not that.”

  “Maybe Kansas? North Dakota? If we go by population, Massachusetts?” I asked, trying not to raise my voice.

  “You look great to me,” Ron said calmly, repeating his favorite refrain.

  I sighed, knowing this was my issue, not his. Trying to be rational, I explained I felt bad about gaining weight because I had looked so good in this dress last year.

  “How come I never heard you say that last year? In fact, I don’t remember your ever appreciating how good you look,” he said.

  I started to disagree—but really couldn’t. Maybe I’d learned to look on the bright side of life, but never of my own thighs. I could blame my mother, who had taken great pride in the twenty-one-inch waist she flaunted at her wedding and regularly chided my sister and me for not matching her measurements. But I was an adult now, and if I didn’t mind the little bulge at my waist (not a muffin top—I like muffins), then fine. If I wanted to change, I needed to do something.

  I’d been on board with Dr. Liponis’s idea of having gratitude for a healthy body (two arms, two legs, I’m breathing!), and it struck me that the natural inclination when you appreciate something should be keeping it in good repair. From my years as a health and fitness writer, I knew plenty about nutrition and exercise (most of us do), so I didn’t need more information to lose weight and get in shape—just the right mind-set. Maybe gratitude could give it to me. Over coffee one day, I mentioned to my friend Anthea that I wondered if I could use gratitude to lose ten pounds. A longtime executive with a quick mind and pragmatic, down-to-earth approach, she didn’t seem to find that unusual at all.

  “You have to meet my fitness trainer, because she starts every session with gratitude,” Anthea said. “She thinks it’s part of getting lean and strong.”

  Anthea seemed so unfazed that I wondered if I’d stumbled on a new trend. Had gratitude become the new gluten-free? I quickly made arrangements to find out and soon drove over to Litchfield, Connecticut, where slim, energetic Jen Abbott welcomed me into her fitness studio. Instead of the loud music and revved-up energy that courses through most gyms, Jen’s space oozed calmness and serenity, with inspirational phrases (including Be Grateful) written in gold cursive script on the walls. I noticed a row of candles under a window, and Jen explained that before every workout, her clients lit candles and thought about their intentions. Taking a moment to breathe and “immerse themselves in mindfulness and gratitude” usually produced a much more effective workout.

  Trained as a physical therapist, Jen had built a large business in Wellesley, Massachusetts, with numerous trainers working for her and hundreds and hundreds of clients. Always busy, she worked constantly while also going through a divorce (she was the family breadwinner) and taking care of her two little children. “I’d go to bed stressed and wake up feeling dreadful,” she admitted. She thought she was doing okay, though, until one day when she quite literally fell off the treadmill.

  “Really, I was running on the treadmill and fell!” she told me, still marveling at the incident. “After that injury, I knew I was being driven by fear, rather than gratitude and love. I wrote two words on the ceiling above my bed: ‘Trust’ and ‘Faith.’ I needed trust that we’d be okay, and faith that I could find gratitude for what I had. That gave me the strength to move forward.”

  She moved with her boys back to the small Connecticut town where she grew up and opened her own fitness studio. Telling the story now, sitting on a big blue exercise ball instead of a chair, Jen looked as literally balanced as anyone could be. She had been amazed by the power of gratitude to pull her through and wanted to give that gift to her clients, too. She told me that she noticed how many came from what she called “a place of lack”—feeling bad if they weren’t (in their view) thin enough or pretty enough or fit enough. Tough workouts and endless ab crunches wouldn’t be enough to solve the problem.

  “If we insult ourselves and see ourselves badly, we attract more bad feelings,” Jen told me earnestly. “When you see yourself as fat and slow and tired, that’s what you become. You have to catch yourself and flip it. Instead of feeling inadequate that the person next to you is running on the treadmill and you’re walking, look for all the blessings. I’m here at the gym and I had the motivation to get here! I have these strong legs to carry me and a heart and lungs that work! Thank you, thank you!”

  When she got her clients to flip to gratitude, she saw instantaneous results. Their pace on the treadmill would increase and they’d get a little swing in their step. Many reported that the next time they found themselves plopped on the couch wanting to eat chocolate, they decided to exercise instead. I told Jen that I’d recently learned how gratitude made people more motivated in work and careers, so it made sense that the same occurred with weight and fitness. But for some reason, gratitude for body hadn’t yet kicked in for me—and I had an extra ten pounds to prove it.

  “You can lose them easily. You’ve been that weight before, so you know you can do it,” she said encouragingly.

  “Actually, I don’t know. I look at my skinny jeans and can’t imagine wearing them again.”

  “Then that’s your number one problem!” she said. “You have to believe it to do it!”

  Jen suggested I write the words “Thank You!” on a card and put it next to my bed, so I saw it first thing every morning.

  “Who am I thanking?” I asked dubiously.

  “Yourself. Thank you that I will eat right today. Thank you that I will become as lean as I want to be. Thank you that I will wear a sleeveless dress to my book signing and have great arms.” She smiled. “Dedicate five minutes of your day to believing you can do this and being thankful you can.”

  She liked reminders everywhere and suggested I attach a “Thank You” to the refrigerator door to be grateful for the healthy celery and carrots and apples inside. (Better than the picture of a hippo I’d once put on the fridge.) A “Thank You” on my mirror to help eliminate negative self-talk.

  “If all you’re thinking about is that you need to lose weight, you’re not remembering to be grateful that you’re strong, grateful that you can buy healthy food, grateful that it’s gorgeous weather and you can take a walk,” Jen said.

  Jen believed that a negative body image takes us out of gratitude. We feel overweight and worry that nobody will like us, so we stay home wearing sweatpants, then eat more out of loneliness and anxiety. It’s a downward spiral—and the way back up is through gratitude.

  “Love yourself from the inside out. Say positive things and be grateful for the way you choose to see yourself!” Jen said. “Put up the pair of jeans you want to fit into again and say thank you! Believe it and be thankful for it!”

  Wow. I’d spent months focused on gratitude, but I’d never thought of thanking myself and being grateful to . . . me. I’d only intended to interview Jen, but after our stirring conversation, we agreed to meet for an actual training session.

  A week later, I went back to Jen’s studio, this time wearing sneakers and exercise clothes. She exhorted me to come up with a word that would inspire me—her version of a mantra—while I exercised. Knowing my goals, she suggested “lean” or “willpower.” But I shook my head.

  “I’d be more inspired by ‘strong,’” I said. I wanted my body to be strong and my attitude to be a little tougher, too.

  “Good!” Jen said enthusiastically. She sent me over to the candles at the window and urged me to close my eyes, breathe deeply, and visualize myself as strong. I tried, but all I felt was slightly awkward. As a journalist, I’m more comfortable observing experiences than actually having them, and I desperately wanted to reach for my notepad. But I batted down the urge and stayed in the moment. Jen pointed out that my arms were crossed tightly in front of my chest and suggested I relax my shoulders and open my hands.

 
; “Visualize yourself as strong and lean and fitting into those jeans!” Jen said. “Then be grateful that you’re strong. Let the gratitude flow in. Thank you, I’m strong.”

  I squirmed like a middle schooler. My approach to gratitude all year had been fact based and scientific, and while I didn’t mind Jen’s more spiritual leanings, I didn’t naturally respond. I really, really wanted my reporter’s notebook.

  Jen let me leave the window and get on the exercise bike to use up some energy. Then we spent the next forty-five minutes on a real workout—with exercise balls, functional training (the squats and lunges and balancing that you need for everyday activities), and some weights. I like to exercise, so that felt good.

  At the end of the session, Jen had me lie on a mat while she stretched my arms and legs and talked about gratitude again. Finally, she took a note card and with red marker wrote Strong on one side and Thank you, I’m Strong! on the other.

  “It’s three simple steps,” she reminded me as I left. “Think of your word—‘strong’! Visualize yourself that way. And then say thank you!”

  When I got home, I put the card on my kitchen counter. For the next few days, every time I walked by, it made me stop and smile and think. Maybe I wouldn’t be Jen’s best student, but her gratitude approach really felt empowering. I knew, though, that visualizing myself as strong was only the first step.

  “Losing weight is really about what you eat even more than exercising,” Jen had reminded me.

  So I had an idea. I’d come up with the Gratitude Diet.

  I walked around my kitchen and realized we had food everywhere—fruits, vegetables, yogurt, eggs, cheese, mustard, and olives in the refrigerator; cookies, crackers, cereal, flour, soup, tomato sauce, beans, lentils, and much more in the cabinet; a freezer packed with ice cream, chicken, pizzas, and various Tupperware containers I couldn’t quite identify. Being grateful for food and plenty has been integral to cultures and religions throughout history, but I couldn’t say I ever remembered to be grateful for a stocked pantry. When hungry, I just grabbed anything handy.