It’s eleven-fifteen in the morning, and I woke up with a crick in my neck. Consequently, I’m getting a slow start to what promises to be a long day. Every so often I’m stopping whatever I’m doing to stretch, trying to work out the kinks. I’m house sitting for some friends, and when I first got up, I stood in their hallway, reached my arms out wide on an angle, and rolled my neck around. As my arms fell to my sides, one of my friends’ dogs came over and pressed her wet nose against my fingers–as if to say, “I see you have a free hand there.” It was the sweetest thing, this moment of–connection.

Currently I’m listening to an album by Carter Sampson, a local red-dirt/folk artist from Fayetteville. I met Carter when I interviewed her for a magazine many, many years ago. She’s fabulous, and for whatever reason, her music is the perfect thing on this slow-start, crick-in-my-neck, overcast Saturday morning. It’s funny how the right lyrics show up at the right time. Last night I cried like a child while writing yesterday’s post. Today I feel lighter. I have the biggest smile on my face. As Carter says, “I washed myself in the water, and now I’m finally free.”

Yesterday while my friend was in traffic court and I was stuck in their car because their alarm system kept going off every time I took their key out of the ignition, I read another chapter in The Tools by Phil Stutz and Barry Michaels, a self-help book I mentioned a couple days ago. The chapter dealt with gratitude, which the authors present as the go-to tool or solution for what they call “the cloud,” that dark thing that surrounds you every time you begin to worry, obsess, or stress about whatever.

You know–THE CLOUD–There’s not enough money, nobody likes me, and I probably have cancer.

Of course, gratitude is not a novel concept, but I love the way Stutz and Michaels present it–as that which CUTS THROUGH the cloud and reconnects you to something bigger than yourself. I like this idea–that being grateful isn’t just a “good-feeling” thing to do, but is also something powerful that quickly bypasses the dark cloud of worry. Because God knows WORRYING and OBSESSING about my problems has NEVER made my day any brighter. But even in this moment if I simply think about my nephews, I’m overcome with warmth and the feeling that life is all right. Because of them, it’s enough just to be here–overcast day, crick in my neck, and all. I’m reminded that I’m part of life, that life is good, and that life mysteriously works out.

The authors of The Tools say that gratitude is something you have to practice in order for it to have a powerful, lasting effect. In my experience, this is how worry works too. In other words, it’s a habit. And whereas being grateful does require diligence, it doesn’t have to be complicated. Just start with five things, five simple things that open your heart (even a little). For me–today–I’m grateful for a place to sleep at night, my friends’ dog and her wet nose, Carter Sampson and her music, my nephews, and my body, which not only lets me experience all the things I love, but also allows me to stretch, to cry, to smile.