I am not afraid to say that I believe I am one of the luckiest people in the world.
Well, OK. I am afraid.
In fact, the concept kind of freaks me out.
The thoughts that race through my head are: Why me? Whatever did I do to deserve such a huge amount of blissful blessings? And, perhaps more importantly, when is the other shoe going to drop, in the manifestation of some calamity? Will my luck run out? Will my fortune change course? (For a while there I believed it had. I don’t wish hopelessness on anyone.)
I've decided that I have a choice. I can torture myself with the thoughts in the paragraph above. Take in my luck and react to it with panic, with a sense that I might lose everything I have at any moment (which is always possible). And in doing so, successfully jeopardize the delight derived in what is bestowed on me.
But, wouldn’t this be the clear opposite of gratitude? In other words, wouldn’t this diminish me, make me an ungrateful person?
Or, (gasp) I can assume that there is a reason I have what I do, and that someone somewhere determined that I deserve it. (To whom it may concern: thank you.)
That I believe every being on the planet deserves abundance and good fortune, so why should I be the exception?
So today (and every day) I make the decision to not allow myself to be stressed by what life gives me. Instead, I will let this enormous feeling of gratitude that I carry with me wash over me, in a ritual at least as frequent as my twice-daily shower.
And relish every gift that comes my way, and honor the bestower by doing so with a thankful, awed, open heart.