Gratitude Grit

Rising Like a Phoenix in a World on Fire

As I reflect on what could be most beneficial to offer the world, some light during these times of darkness, I’m especially aware of the complexities that can emerge around holidays like July 4th. On the surface, Fourth of July is a holiday of parades, fireworks, potato salad, and maybe an epic dirt bike or mountain bike ride. Yet just beneath that surface is a web of complex history that often gets pushed into the shadows.

This holiday is about freedom from a king who exploited his “friends” in the colonies. And it is also inseparable from the genocide and land theft of Indigenous peoples, the rampant clear-cutting of old-growth forests, the near extinction of animals like the American Bison, and the enslavement of humans stolen from another continent. We can celebrate the courage of the revolutionaries, David facing the Goliath of Great Britain, while also holding space for the grief and trauma of colonization, environmental destruction, and slavery. All of this history lives on today.

When I reflect on all of this, I feel gratitude that I have learned through a lot of mentorship and practice how to be accountable to my own history and to face the history of my ancestors. Terry Real’s words live on in me:

“Family dysfunction rolls down from generation to generation like a fire in the woods, taking down everything in its path until one person in one generation has the courage to turn and face the flames. That person brings peace to their ancestors and spares the children that follow.”

I hold that this is true not just for families, but for communities, cultures, nations, and humanity at large. Dysfunction keeps rolling until courageous humans face the flames.
I believe I am a phoenix, and I can burn and burn again while rising up stronger than before. Like Glennon Doyle says:

“The fire of pain won’t consume me. I can burn and burn and live. I can live on fire. I am fireproof.”

I can continue to face the flames because I’ve developed the skills and practices to do so and I know I’m not alone. I’m part of a greater web of courageous souls speaking truth and making amends.

One of the practices that helps me stay grounded, accountable, and courageous in facing painful, sometimes horrifying truths, both in my work and in confronting my own internalized racism, classicism, abelism, and more is gratitude. Gratitude is a close cousin to joy. When life feels overwhelming, gratitude helps me find resilience and grit.

Research is catching up to what many of us already know deep down: gratitude isn’t just about being a good person, it’s a powerful practice that’s good for our nervous system and our brains.

Shawn Achor’s research on gratitude is especially compelling. He’s shown that practicing gratitude can rewire our brains, increasing happiness and optimism. His studies found that people who wrote down three things they were grateful for each day, for just 21 days, reported significantly higher levels of well-being and lower levels of stress and depression. Gratitude, Achor explains, helps shift our focus away from threats and our negativity bias and opens up access to higher-level thinking, creativity, and connection.

I see this in my work with couples. I often begin sessions by inviting them to pause and reflect on recent moments of connection. This helps counteract the tendency toward negative sentiment override. Social media and the news only reinforce those negative neural pathways. We don’t need to work any harder to strengthen our negativity bias, (thank you ancestors for a necessary but not always helpful survival mechanism).

What we do need is to intentionally practice gratitude, which elevates us and grounds us at the same time.

This was reiterated for me recently after an outdoor counseling intensive, a new offering in my private practice that I’m deeply grateful to share. There’s something about being in nature that is profoundly healing, and I feel immense gratitude to have nature as my co-therapist.

View from the tail on the traditional lands of the Ute and Cheyenne.

After the session, I hopped on my bike and hit a nearby trail. The shaded biking areas were packed, so I opted for a quieter, sunnier open space. It was hot, almost unbearably so. If I’d been on my acoustic bike, I might have gotten heat exhaustion, like I have in the past. But this time, I was on my e-bike and I felt a surge of gratitude.

Gratitude for the breeze I could create. For the trail. For the childcare that made the ride possible. For the stunning views of Red Rocks Amphitheater. For my partner who introduced me to mountain biking. And for the Indigenous people who were the original stewards of this land.

When I reached the top, I took in the view and let it sink in. Then I rode down, shouting out sounds of glee, letting the trail carry me like my own personal roller coaster. I felt so deeply alive, and gratitude just poured out of me.

Gratitude isn’t about pretending everything’s okay.
There are still relationships and adulting to tend to, boundaries to set, and accountability to hold. And like Terry Real reminds us, we’re most effective at holding others accountable when we remember love.

When I’m rooted in gratitude, I can stay connected to the inherent worth in all life, even when things are hard. I can find empathy more easily, whether it’s for a grasshopper my son is excitedly carrying around (who clearly wants to go back outside), or for a couple trying to navigate the dark night of their marriage. Gratitude grounds me and also expands me, like the roots and branches of a tree.

One moment that brought about deep reflection on this topic for me was the first time I read Thich Nhat Hanh’s poem “Please Call Me by My True Names.” It jolted my worldview deeply and profoundly. The poem is a fierce and tender reminder of our deep interconnectedness , and the courage it takes to keep our hearts open even in the face of suffering and injustice.

When I pair the spiritual concept of compassion with the science of gratitude, I remember this:
Gratitude isn’t just a feeling.
It’s a way of perceiving and being, and as Shawn Achor’s research shows, a way of rewiring our brains toward resilience, connection, and joy.

So as we move into this holiday weekend, I invite you to tap into your own gratitude. Not as a spiritual bypass or distraction but as a practice to support your wellness and your capacity to face the flames holding you, your relationship, your family, your community, or your nation back.

Gratitude can bring us the energy and groundedness to fully send it on our bikes, in our lives, and in the world.