Gratitude Had Wings This Morning

I was reading a friend's blog posting about gratitude when I was interrupted by an eagle looming out of the mist enshrouded lake ice. I grabbed my Nikon, slapped on a 300mm lens and took stealthy steps towards the lake's edge. Three sounds captured my attention on my way there. I could hear the optimistic voices of geese; their calls to head northbound echoing underneath a nearby bridge. On the deck of the bridge, a man's whistle cut through the fog as he took his spirited morning walk. Between the whistles and the honks I heard only the sound of silence.

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How was your morning commute?

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I came back inside my home and finished reading about gratitude, then I started to think about gratitude. I realized that I was awash in it from the moment my head left my pillow. Sometimes I forget that I'm bathing in a vibrant existence and it's something for which I should be grateful (props to my wife). On this Friday morning during the precipitous month of April, I thank Gair Maxwell for reminding me, and many others, to think about the co-mingling of gratitude and success.

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Perhaps the first words out of our collective mouths, every morning when we wake up, should be a resounding, throw your fist in the air "Yes!" Or perhaps a happy whistle is in order (careful though, not everyone loves a whistler).

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Sometimes gratitude has wings. Sometimes gratitude is foggy. Sometimes gratitude is silent. Though we don't always spend our lives running around saying 'thank you' to those who we love and admire, we should give it more thought. A cross cultural hug or two wouldn't hurt either.

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My gratitude was mostly unshared this morning, at least until I pressed the 'Publish Post' button and shared my thoughts will all of my readers (thank you both). It's not completely true that my gratitude was unshared, I think the whistler on the bridge was grateful to live in Cambridge-Narrows too.