Cracks in Consciousness

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Finnegan Begin Again

When I decided to return to the workforce last June, I, wisely, turned to my very own book, Getting What You Wish For: A Short and Sweet Guide to Manifesting the Sweet Life!, for guidance in securing the “perfect” job: “Your desires must be focused, specific, and stated in such a way as to be given the answer you are looking for in order to bring about positive changes in your life.”

(I have to say, it’s terribly fun to be able to quote yourself!)

At the time, my #1 priority was finding employment that would enable me to become my sister’s primary caregiver; Colleen’s health had deteriorated to the point that she was going to need to move in with me, an eventuality that we knew was going to occur sooner or later. And now, it was time.

Keeping in mind that I needed to be specific in my request, here was my wish list for the “perfect job”:

100% remote, so that I could relocate Colleen to the sea-level altitude she required without having to also worry about finding a job once we got to our new home
Sufficient income to provide for Colleen’s needs, take care of my dogs, and live the lifestyle I desired
Time to pursue my other interests: writing, teaching, and helping others in my Cracks in Consciousness personal transformation coaching practice

That the job had to be completely remote was paramount. I was going to have to relocate for my sister’s health; she needed to live at sea-level, but I live at an altitude of 6,500 feet, which meant she couldn’t move here. So, I needed to figure out the best places to move where she could get the best medical help she required; sell my house and buy or rent a new house, get myself relocated from Colorado, and get Colleen relocated from Nevada. Having a 100% remote job would give me the time and the means to do this.

And within two months, the Universe manifested the perfect job: a Project Management contract position that was 100% remote; paid the same salary that I was making when I left the workforce at the end of 2014; required employees to work 18 months, step away for 6 months (and collect unemployment, if desired, and pursue other personal or professional pursuits), and then hire back on for another 18 months; and, once mastered, required very little time each day to manage assigned projects, which allowed me to pursue other interests. The only downside was that contractors received no benefits. But, since Colleen would be living with me, and her income would help supplement mine, this wasn’t a concern.

I interviewed for the job over the course of three days (hiring company, employer-panel situational interview, finishing up with the VP of the business unit I would be joining). I was confident that I would receive a job offer, which I did—two days after Colleen died.

I accepted the job and began work in September 2015. After all, I still needed a job, and the fact that I had to handle all of the final arrangements for Colleen made having a remote job much easier to take care of business in the coming weeks and months. Plus, many of my current circumstances and needs were still the same: sufficient income and lots of time to pursue my other interests. Perfect!

So, perfect, in fact, that I resigned two weeks ago, and Friday was my last day.

But I still believe that the Universe did, in fact, manifest the perfect job for me. I simply needed to come to understand why it was perfect for me—and why I needed to leave it.

“It will all become clear as we walk along. It is in walking a path that we come to understanding.” Margaret George

As early as October, I realized that something was wrong.

At first, I thought that I didn’t like the work because I had, quite simply, forgotten how much I disliked being the new kid on the block. It had been many years since I started a new job, and, when I left my last job, I was considered the go-to-guy with 11 years of knowledge and experience to back it up. Hubris, I admit, but there it is.

Then, I remembered something that I had written about this job in my journal when I first applied: “The job has two elements that I detest: it’s a glorified secretary’s job; you have to follow up with everyone about everything. And, you have to spend your entire day ‘herding cats.’ But I’m sure I can get used to this. After all, I need a job, and I’ve always wanted a remote job.”

Teleworking isn’t for everyone. You need to be disciplined enough to structure your time. You need excellent communication skills, self-reliance, resourcefulness, flexibility, and confidence in your abilities. If I may say so myself, I have all of these qualities in spades. And I’m certainly self-reliant and resourceful; I’ve taken care of myself and my dogs by myself for the last 12 years.

And so, I’ve teleworked often over the last 20 years, and it suits me.

But I came to understand that “telework” is not the same as “100% remote.” And while I love being able to telework, I’ve come to learn that I hate being 100% remote—especially when you live in a remote place in the first place, like I do. Where getting to a town is a 20-minute drive in the best of circumstances, and seeing your friends can be an odyssey. Plus, while it’s true that you can work from anywhere so long as you are “available” during your working hours (which, in my case, was 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.), the ironical flip side is that you have to be 100% available during those hours—watching emails, responding to IMs, participating in online training—which can be challenging trying to find free Wifi and hotspots if I want to work someplace other than my own house.

But while none of this was insurmountable, one surprising (at least to me, at the time) observation became a frequent entry in my journal: I was lonely.

This was never an issue when I teleworked; I was in the office as often as I was out of the office, and so I never felt real loneliness. Admittedly, I frequently needed “by myself” time; being a practicing empath, it was important to recharge my psychic batteries regularly.

But now, I was 100% remote, and the one person I could always count on being 100% available to me wasn’t available at all anymore: my sister, Colleen.

“The components of your Authentic Self that are most important to you will help you make appropriate decisions and choices so that you don’t compromise when it comes to identifying your ideal life-work. You’ll also have a better chance at finding an emotional connection to whatever life-work you choose to do, which will allow you to thrive.” From my book, Will Work to Feed Dogs: Seven Steps to Identifying Meaningful Life-Work Now!

The Universe manifested exactly what I wished for: the perfect job. But it finally dawned on me why it was perfect: not because it was remote or because it paid me a good salary or was pretty easy to manage during the day. Rather, it was perfect for me because of what it taught me about myself. And the most important lesson was that I needed to accept my Authentic Self and what I needed and wanted in order to find that emotional connection.

This is how the Universe works: the answer we receive might not be the answer we think we’re looking for. So, it’s our job to glean from it what the answer truly means for us and why the answer is, in fact, perfect after all.

And once we discover the true meaning of the answer, it’s time to take the next step along that path to understanding.

Which, in my case, means that tomorrow I begin my new job. And what might that be?

Tune it next week to find out the surprising (at least to me) result!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Want to know more about transforming limited thoughts and beliefs into limitless possibilities? Check out my Examine–Envision–Emerge Personal Transformation Book Series. Each book explores a particular aspect of thought healing. Find yours online at your favorite retailer today!

Monday, January 11, 2016

Trick Questions

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “Life is simple. You just have to stop trying to figure it out.” Marty Rubin

Question: What do you do with a blue monster?

Answer: Cheer him up!

This is one of my favorite jokes, told to me by a former co-worker over 30 years ago. Obviously, I’ve never forgotten it.

Why? Because it cheers me up, every time, even when I’m not blue. And because it reminds me how easy it is to make things far more complicated than they really are or need to be. After all, the answer is pretty obvious, isn’t it? It’s not a trick question, but I’ve never found a single person who was able to answer it (including me).

(I also want to point out that this same co-worker told me another joke: Question: What’s orange and smells like carrots? Answer: Bunny farts. While rabbits are one of my most sacred animal guides, somehow bunny farts don’t lend themselves to thoughts about personal transformation. Although, I have to admit, I still think this joke is funny, too.)

Muhammad Yunus said, “Things are never as complicated as they seem. It is only our arrogance that prompts us to find unnecessarily complicated answers to simple problems.”

I’ve shared many times that I have a tendency to overcomplicate things. I like to think it’s a result of my natural abilities as a project manager and business process engineer, rather than arrogance. However, I’m pretty sure that there’s a healthy dose of that character flaw mixed into this as well.

I recently took one of those Facebook quizzes to determine what type of “seeker” I am. My results showed that I am a seeker of knowledge, that I need to know all answers to everything. NOW.

Clearly, I already knew this.

One other thing I already know is that, when we pass over to the Other Side, we will have access to the Akashic Records, which holds all knowledge of all things. The Akashic Records or "The Book of Life" can be equated to the universe's super computer system. It is this system that acts as the central storehouse of all information for every individual who has ever lived upon the earth. More than just a reservoir of events, the Akashic Records contain every deed, word, feeling, thought, and intent that has ever occurred at any time in the history of the world.

As a seeker of knowledge, I’m really looking forward to browsing this cosmic supercomputer because I have more than a few questions.

However, I must admit that there are times when I’d like to know the answer to some great mystery that I’m witnessing right now. Not only am I arrogant, I’m also impatient. So given that I plan on living many more years, and given that I am a seeker of all knowledge and wisdom, I’m afraid there are times when I can’t wait that long for the answer.

Take, for example, someone who drives well below the speed limit on a road with no passing lanes, but plenty of places to pull over—and a string of cars piled up behind, whose drivers are praying that the person will suddenly become enlightened, look in the rearview mirror, see all of us behind, and courteously PULL OVER.

These are times when I want to follow the person until they finally do pull over somewhere, park, and get out of their cars. I want to go up to that person and say, “I believe that, in the end, the Akashic records will be open to us and I will know the mysteries of all things. But given that I plan on living many more years, and given that I am a seeker of all knowledge and wisdom, I’m afraid I can’t wait that long. So let me ask you this: Why didn’t you simply pull over?”

This doesn’t seem like a trick question, does it? Perhaps some darker force is at work here? Somehow I doubt it.

Alice Roosevelt Longworth said, “I have a simple philosophy: Fill what's empty. Empty what's full. Scratch where it itches.” I might add, pull over when you’re holding everyone up.

And, don’t forget: the next blue monster you run into, just remember to cheer him up!

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Dance Moves

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.” George Eliot

Here’s your two-minute history lesson for the day: George Eliot was the male pen name of Mary Ann Evans (22 November 1819 – 22 December 1880). She was an English novelist, journalist, translator, and one of the leading writers of the Victorian era. She is the author of seven novels, including Adam Bede (1859), The Mill on the Floss (1860), Silas Marner (1861), Middlemarch (1872), and Daniel Deronda (1876), most of them set in provincial England and known for their realism and psychological insight. Middlemarch is considered one of the greatest novels in the English language. George Elliot used a male pen name to ensure her works would be taken seriously. Female authors were published under their own names during Eliot's life, but she wanted to escape the stereotype of women only writing lighthearted romances.

I first came across George Eliot while in college. I was an English major, and my plan was to become a college professor specializing in Victorian literature.

Fast-forward to now, and, clearly, I ended up on a different path (another story for another day).

But, I never forgot this quote. In fact, this sentiment has, over time, become my personal motto as well as my business’s tagline.

Next month, I turn 61. Cora Harvey Armstrong said, “Inside every older lady is a younger lady wondering what the hell happened.” Truer words were never spoken.

I remember my former mother-in-law once saying to me, “One day, you get up and leap out of bed, ready to begin the day’s events. Then, you suddenly notice that the only thing that has sprung out of bed is your boundless spirit. You look back and realize that your body is still lying there, trying to roll out of bed without groaning, and hoping not to fall over in the process.”

She and Cora must have been BFFs.

Bette Davis acidly observed, “Old age ain't no place for sissies.” I’d be lying if I told you that I disagreed with her. And, please, don’t try assuring me that 61 isn’t “old.” Try convincing my knees of that.

Of course, by now you’re probably wondering when the #ThoughtHealing part of this blog begins.

Hillel the Elder said, “I get up. I walk. I fall down. Meanwhile, I keep dancing.”

On the cusp of 61, I totally get the “get up, walk, fall down” part. But, like Hillel, I try to focus on the dancing. Because it really IS never too late to learn a new step, acquire a new skill, pick up a new taste in literature, set a new goal. Cross off something on your bucket list—and then add three new things to it.

Maybe even become a college professor specializing in Victorian literature.

I keep a journal, plus I have a daily diary that I like to enter the little things in, like when the meadowlarks return each spring or when the first geese begin their annual migration in the fall. My current daily diary actually ends on January 1, 2017. On the first day of this new year, I turned to that page and wrote this, “My new life looks nothing like it did one year ago today (written on January 1, 2016).”

And while I don’t know quite yet what that will mean or how I might want to manifest it, I do know this: truer words were never spoken.

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Monday, December 21, 2015

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend… when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that’s present — love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature and personal pursuits that bring us pleasure — the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience Heaven on earth.” Sarah Ban Breathnach

Many years ago, I set out to plan a small but thoughtfully laid out garden in the front of my house. As you know, I’m a project manager by profession, so I approached this project in the same way as I tackled a multi-million dollar, multi-year technology infusion project: I evaluated my “current state” (the patch of brown waiting to be brought to life), I envisioned my “future state” (the beautifully crafted blooms that would flower year after year), and, most importantly, I developed my game plan for achieving my final solution that would no doubt one day be featured in Better Homes and Gardens (Western States edition).

I began by researching the best plants to include in my garden. I learned how to amend the soil; how to lay out everything in such a way as to take advantage of sunlight, runoff, and wind; and how to ensure that there would be adequate space between the plants to allow each one to spread out and up (all the while being sure not to plant anything on the dragon’s back, at least from a flowering feng shui perspective).

And so I excitedly bought all of my exhaustively researched plants, and I lovingly and thoughtfully placed each one according to the landscape blueprint I had equally lovingly and thoughtfully drawn up, every detail considered, every place on the dragon’s back plotted out. Now, all I had to do was sit back and marvel as my plans—and my plants—bore fruit and blossomed.

Even the most novice of gardeners knows that these things take time. There is an ebb and flow to the seasons; things grow and mature in their own time. Which means that, at least for the first couple of seasons, the garden might look a bit sparse. But, in time, everything will fill in exactly as planned.

As I said, I’m a planner, and a good one. I was confident that I had taken everything into account when I planned my project. And so I was willing to be patient and let things unfold as they were meant to.

Only, as it turned out, I had overlooked one factor that would ultimately spell disaster.

And that one factor was my husband.

Patience was not in his vocabulary. He thought the garden looked “too sparse,” and he was not willing to wait for it to fill in. He wanted what he wanted now (which, as it turned out, was his approach to pretty much everything, but that’s another story). So one day, unbeknownst to me (and while I was at work), he stopped by the local nursery and, explained this dire predicament to one of the salespeople. He then came home with what he was told would be the perfect addition to the garden, one that would fill in those artfully planned empty spaces quickly.

Which turned out to be Kentucky Bluegrass seed.

He happily spread that pernicious offender EVERYWHERE in my artfully planned garden. A former minor league baseball player with a wicked throwing arm, he applied himself with the precision of an outfielder gunning down the runner racing to steal home from third base. Nothing was left to chance—and no empty space was left untilled and unseeded.

How proud he was to show me the fruits of his labor when I got home. Not the brightest bulb, he didn’t realize for some time that I wasn’t exactly pleased with his effort. And so, for once, he decided to be patient and assured me that I would be happy with the results if I would just give it “a little time.”

(In truth, he was patiently waiting to tell me, “I told you so.”)

Sure enough, we did not have long to wait. The very next spring, my garden began to take shape. At least, I think it did. I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t see my little buds pushing up to sunlight because they were swallowed up by the JUNGLE of Kentucky Bluegrass that seemed to spring forth overnight.

And year after year, while some of my plants failed, and others seemed to thrive, I could always count on one thing that would never fail and would always thrive in my garden: That (insert various expletives here) Kentucky Bluegrass.

In time, I decided to once and for all eradicate my garden of all pernicious weeds, failures, and seasonal flops. I also eradicated my husband. (Told you so.)

But the one thing I’ve never been able to rid my garden of is that lousy bluegrass. Which in the spirit of the holidays, I came to think of as The Gift That Keeps On Giving.

Every spring, when I see that bluegrass come to life (actually, it’s really more like the zombie plant in my garden because nothing can kill it and it’s the only thing that seems to stay green year-round), I’m reminded of my life BKB and AGKH: Before Kentucky Bluegrass and After Garden-Killing Husband. My life—like my thoughtfully and carefully planned garden—looks nothing like the landscape blueprint I thought my life would be those many years ago.

Marcel Proust said, “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”

And while I curse that bluegrass every spring, I also make a conscious choice to think of it as the best possible Gift That Keeps On Giving that I’ve ever received. It reminds me of many things: of how things can change when we least expect it; how our best laid plans can go awry; how what might at first seem to be the worst thing that could happen might, in time, turn out to be one of the best things.

So, as this year comes to an end, and you open your gifts this week, what gifts have you received that will keep on giving—and what gifts can YOU give to others so that you, too, will be a charming gardener?

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!

Monday, December 7, 2015

Inside (Looking) Out

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” Harper Lee, “To Kill A Mockingbird”

I got a copy of my sister’s death certificate yesterday. Near the bottom, in box 25, “Immediate Cause,” there was space for up to four causes of death, preceded by this explanation: “Conditions if any which gave rise to immediate cause stating the underlying cause last.” Unfortunately, although not surprisingly, all four lines had an entry.

The first three were Cardiopulmonary Arrest, Acute Respiratory Failure, Severe Pulmonary Hypertension. No surprises here; Colleen had been diagnosed with Emphysema many years ago, and Severe Pulmonary Hypertension is often a result of this condition.

Then I noticed the last one, the one that the death certificate described as the underlying cause: Obesity-hypoventilation Syndrome. And I thought, “So, there it is, Colleen, you were right. Once again, it all comes down to your weight.”

Anne Lamott said, “Everyone is walking around as an advertisement for who he or she is.”

This bothers me. I want to argue with it, but I can’t. My own experience, and more importantly, that of my family, won’t allow me to.

Colleen used to joke about how people perceived her. You see, not only was she obese, she also had just two teeth. She’d say, “I know what people are thinking when they look at me: backwoods hillbilly who married her first cousin.” She also joked about her former cocaine use. She used to say, “It figures—everyone else who used cocaine looked like swizzle sticks, but what happened to me? I was probably the only overweight cocaine user on the planet.” (I would try to comfort her by pointing out that I was probably the only person who owned overweight GSDs in Colorado. Somehow, I don’t think this took much of the sting—or the stigma—away.)

When my oldest sister (now also passed) was in the middle of job hunting, she asked me to help her write her resume, which was very impressive, and cover letter. Job hunting is an experience that I know from recent personal experience is difficult in the best of circumstances.

As we were finishing up, she asked me this question: “Should I mention something about how I look in my cover letter?” This puzzled me. We all know the unwritten rules of writing resumes when you are “of a certain age”: never mention your age, when you graduated from college, your martial status, how many children you have—all of these can be off-putting to a hiring manager. But I hadn’t even thought about this before, and so I asked her why.

“Because whenever I get an actual face-to-face interview,” she replied matter of factly, “They take one look at me and I know I won’t get the job, no matter how qualified I am. So maybe I could mention that, despite my physical appearance, I’m capable, loyal, and dependable. And I’m healthy, no matter what they might think about how I look.”

You see, my sister was all of these things and more: capable, loyal, dependable, brilliant, beautiful—and she weighed over 300 pounds.

As it turned out, she didn’t include this in her cover letter, but she also didn’t get a face-to-face interview, so perhaps it would have been a moot point.

But I don’t think so. In fact, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have gotten the job.

Everyone has heard this well-worn statement by George Orwell (and its countless renderings for every condition under the sun), “I'm fat, but I'm thin inside... there's a thin man inside every fat man.”

I never asked either of my sisters whether they had thin alter egos. Whether it bothered them that what they were on the inside—kind, compassionate, gentle, forgiving—didn’t match what people chose to see on the outside. That, in fact, most people dismissed them entirely, or, even more reprehensible but still noticeable, that people were repelled by them.

I mean, think about it: you’re on a plane getting ready to depart. There’s an empty seat next to you—and a very large person coming down the aisle. Quick—what’s your first thought? “Please, oh please, don’t sit here.” It’s a common reaction. I’d be lying if I said I never had that thought myself.

But I’d also be lying if I didn’t point out how obvious our “don’t sit here” aversion is to the very large person coming down the aisle.

I know—because, like my sisters, I used to be one of those very large people, too.

“There are things visible and invisible,” Rumer Godden said.

It’s so easy to size someone up just by looking at what is visible—their size, their age, their gender, their height, the color of their hair. And maybe, for some, the outside matches the inside, their thin person has escaped and is now visible to the world.

But I suspect that, for most of us, there is something invisible inside each of us that has not yet been allowed to be seen. And what might it take for us to look past the visible in order to catch even a glimpse of what might be just below the surface, but so much more real.

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Anticipation Is A Double-Edged Sword

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “Expecting is the greatest impediment to living. In anticipation of tomorrow, it loses today.” Seneca

At this time of year, people spend a lot of time focusing on the future. What resolutions should I make for the coming year? What changes do I need to make in my health care enrollment for next year? How much money will I owe, or might I get back, when I file my taxes next year? What might the new year bring me? What might Santa bring me?

I certainly understand this “what’s next?” perspective.

Right now, I, too, am looking at several possibilities that might or will come to pass in the next several months.

It started when one of my psychic advisers told me that I would be facing a number of “significant crossroads” in the first three months of 2016.

Next, my health insurance expired yesterday, so I’m researching health exchanges to find affordable (I use this term skeptically) options for 2016.

I’m on a deposit list for a new GSD puppy that, with luck and a successful breeding, will be born sometime in February. And I’ve been on this list for over a year, so talk about anticipation!

I have my annual trip to Hawaii coming up at the end of January, so it’s time to finish making my remaining travel arrangements. (I don’t know about you, but I so miss the days when I could just call my father, who lived in Hawaii, tell him what time to pick me up at the airport, and board the next flight leaving for Oahu! Twenty-one day advance purchase? I remember when all you needed was about 21 minutes.)

Since I lived on a combination of unemployment benefits and taxable withdrawals from my IRA for most of this year, I’ve already run my taxes for 2016 to see how much I’m going to owe the IRS come April.

And, last but not least, I have been watching my email like a hawk since yesterday in anticipation of an announcement (no details can be shared right now) that will make a significant difference in how I live my life in the coming year.

So to say that, for today, I’m living in the future much more than in the present moment would be an understatement. So to what degree am I squandering the treasures of this moment in exchange for what may or may not occur in the future?

Now, I’m the first to admit that anticipation is a double-edged sword.

Samuel Smiles said, “An intense anticipation itself transforms possibility into reality; our desires being often but precursors of the things which we are capable of performing.”

This makes sense to me. After all, many of the things on the horizon for me are all about what I believe I am capable of, and I’m looking forward to the possibility of a new reality.

And let’s not forget one of the books I published this year, “Getting What You Wish For: A Short and Sweet Guide to Manifesting the Sweet Life”; this book focuses on how to activate the Law of Attraction and place into vibrational escrow the things you want to have, do, or be in your life. Caroline Kepnes described this best when she said, “And I will never again underestimate the power of anticipation. There is no better boost in the present than an invitation into the future.”

And so I precariously balance on that double-edge sword of anticipation and expectation: trying to be conscious of the blessings of the moment so that I don’t squander today while, at the same time, inviting a future that will manifest my desires.

(Not to mention, anticipating the joy of puppy kisses!)

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

3x5 Full of Gratitude

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.” William Arthur Ward

I don’t know about you, but among the many things I’m grateful for are tools. Duct tape and an electric screwdriver are a homeowner’s best friend. A set of diamond drill bits are among this girl’s best friends. And, don’t even get me started on how much I love my Sawzall—no overgrown tree on my property is safe!

So whenever I start something new—a new job, a new book, a new DIY project—I look for the appropriate tools that will help me succeed.

We all know the saying, “Use the right tool for the right job.” Thomas Carlyle even went so far as to declare, “Man is a tool-using animal. Without tools, he is nothing. With tools, he is all.”

Look out Home Depot, here I come!

When I embarked on my sobriety journey, I approached this “project” in the same way: I looked for the tools I could use that would help me get sober and, more importantly, stay sober. Because, after all, what’s the point of building a barn only to have it fall down (or get locked in—see my previous blog about that debacle) because I used the wrong tools?

One of the most effective tools in the sobriety toolkit that I was handed was the Gratitude List.

“The greatest enemies of us alcoholics are resentment, jealousy, envy, frustration, and fear. When [these feelings] come, stop and count your blessings.” The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

A few weeks ago, I shared with you that, when I first got sober, these “greatest enemies” were the only feelings I recognized. So I knew right away that I would need a really powerful tool in my spiritual toolkit if I was going to have any hope at getting and staying sober. And that tool was the Gratitude List.

But exactly why is a Gratitude List so important?

Because when you are in the midst of emotionally paralyzing, negative feelings, you literally can’t think clearly. On the other hand, when you are in the midst of gratitude, you literally can’t conceive of negative emotions, let alone feel them. Or, as M.J. Ryan succinctly put it, “Whenever we are appreciative, we are filled with a sense of well-being and swept up by the feeling of joy.”

Now, because negative feelings can cloud clear thinking, recovering alcoholics are encouraged (actually, my AA sponsor DEMANDED) that we take the time to actually write down what we were most grateful for on a 3x5 card and keep the card with us at all times. That way, whenever the negative thoughts and emotions threatened our serenity or our sobriety, we could pull out that little card, read over everything we had written down, and remind ourselves of the many blessings we did have as a result of just not taking that one drink again.

And so I dutifully wrote down the things I was grateful for, and I kept my 3x5 index card always at the ready—and believe me, I pulled that little lifesaving tool out of my spiritual toolkit dozens of times in the first year of my sobriety, and lots of time since then.

Gratitude shifts your focus from what your life lacks to the abundance that is already present. In addition, behavioral and psychological research has shown that giving thanks makes people happier and more resilient, strengthens relationships, improves health, and reduces stress.

Wow—all that from one little 3x5 card? What’s not to be grateful for?

William A. Ward said, “God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say ‘thank you?’”

On this Thanksgiving, do you think about what you are thankful for only on this one day? Or, does your practice of gratitude extend beyond a single day? And how might practicing gratitude and giving thanks for everything transform your “common days into thanksgivings” each and every day?

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!