What I Learned From 100 Thanks in 100 Days

Thank you India.

Thank you providence.

Thank you disillusionment.

Thank you nothingness.

Thank you clarity.

Thank you, thank you silence.

— Alanis Morissette

I turned 50 on October 1st. In celebration of that milestone, I wrote 100 thank you notes in 100 days. Notes took the form of actual notes I sent in the mail, email, Facebook direct messages, and tweets. A certain divine randomness determined how the thank you was sent. I wrote notes to mentors and family members. I wrote notes to politicians and journalists. I wrote notes to creatives and artists. I wrote notes to leaders of all description. I wrote notes to people who have made a difference in my life, on a personal level, and to those who have a more global impact on our world. The 100 in 100 idea came to my over the summer time when thinking through exactly how I want to celebrate my 50th birthday. The idea to do a specific thing for a specific amount of time has been peppered across my experience for years. Much has been written about what is learned when we focus directly on specific actions or goals. (“Six weeks to a XXX.” My year doing XXX.” “The XXX Project.”) I have practiced gratitude, intentionally, for years — lists, yoga, thank you notes, interviews, meditation, readings, writing, even teaching. My 100 in 100 project was an extension of that work.

What My 100 in 100 Project Taught Me

Simply Start

Even for someone who considers herself to be a pretty grateful person, it was hard to simply start. I sat down in July and started a spread sheet of names. The first 25 rolled from my finger tips. I wrote those notes. After the first 50, I started to feel discouraged (I had so many left to write and the clock was ticking on my 100 day goal.) until I started to hear back from people. I had been clear with myself that I was not writing to receive a response (and certainly, the majority of notes did not receive responses.) The responses I did receive were beautiful and heartfelt and golden. Many remarked about how they needed to hear that their work matters, and that the note came the exact perfect moment. Many shared their memories of how our time together had been special to them. Some even reflected on taking the note as an invitation to be more grateful in their lives. By simply starting, I received such a beautiful birthday gift.

Gratitude as Antidote

I write a lot about gratitude. I read a lot about gratitude. I talk a lot about gratitude. Gratitude has become my North Star during times when it is really easy to spiral into fear, doubt, and despair. Genuine gratitude — the deep down, fierce, relentless, muscular, “You will not steal my joy.” kind of gratitude changes things. If gratitude were a drug, no dosage would be too much. Gratitude makes mountains climbable, enemies forgivable, problems solvable, peace findable, and love possible. Writing 100 notes in 100 days allowed me to quickly feel gratitude’s power and force. In the face of all that is, for 100 days, I focused on something big, wonderful, expansive, and real.

Don’t Be Bashful or Stingy or Afraid to Thank Others

I was embarrassed of my project at first. The noisy critic in my head yelled, “People will think you are weird.” “None of this really matters anyway. Look at the mess of the world!” “You have so many more important things to do.” I quieted those thoughts repeatedly as I wrote the thank you notes. I gave the thoughts a hug and got on about the business of writing. Those thoughts were part of the ebb and flow of the what-is-this-all-really-about-anyway process. In retrospect, I understood gratitude matters. It matters in the way that water and sunlight matter to a plant, yeast matters to a loaf of bread, thread matters to a garment. Each note mattered.

The Global is Personal, and the Personal is Global

I sent notes to people I know and people I don’t. I sent notes to people who had a direct impact on my life and to people who are changing my world. A beautiful internal conversation took place as I wrote. Both when I was writing to someone I knew and when I was writing to someone I did not, the intention to offer support was the same, the actions for which I was grateful were clear, and the distinction between the personal and global faded. Thank you lifted up the good. Thank you was a prayer of strength. Thank you was an act of love. I would not have predicted, going in to the project, that the personal and global had much in common. I often feel like I lead a very small life compared to others who set the world on fire with love daily. Connecting with others, all others, makes the personal global. Connecting, through a simple thank you, made me feel less powerless and alone. Connecting ignited faith and hope.

Thankful for Everyone and Everything

I have had a few big failures in my life. Jobs that have not worked out. Relationships that have broken down. Plans that have gone sideways. Several of my thank you notes were written to people who were part of those challenging experiences. The concept of being thankful for everyone and everything, rather than just for the obviously wonderful, takes context and understanding. It takes excavating shame. It takes facing fear. It takes thinking about life as an opportunity to create, grow, and build. Connecting with a few of the people who had front row seats to my less than stellar moments shone new light on gratitude. A few years ago, I taught writing to writers who were incarcerated at a federal prison. (You can read about that experience here.) We reflected on being grateful for everyone and everything in that class. We wrestled with big questions about forgiveness, redemption, goodness, and love. I was forever changed by those conversations. Perhaps that is why I chose to put fear and shame aside and reach out during the 100 days. I’ll call those notes, “Big question notes.” The responses to big question notes were like salve on old wounds — reassuring, comforting, and kind. Even the silences, the big question notes to which I received no response, were an opportunity to create soft space in my heart and peace amidst middle of the night, shoulda-coulda, woulda, “I am the worst” memories. Big question notes were not easy to write, but they were worth every minute of butterflies in my stomach, questions lingering in my mind, and tears in my eyes. They helped me get in touch with the pain of it all, and perhaps heal a little bit. They helped me understand the ebb and flow of life’s wholeness — both the “good” and the “bad.” They gave me a minute to reflect on how I have grown and what I have learned.

We Have Gratitude Muscles

I have known for years that practicing gratitude builds my gratitude muscles. (Writing big question notes was certainly a workout, in that sense.) Like getting my miles in makes me a better runner, making it to my mat regularly makes me a better yogi, cooking a dish several times makes me a better cook, practicing gratitude makes me a more grateful person. By extension, being a more grateful person opens me to taking an extra second before I react, maintaining a more positive outlook, in general, and creating more peace in my life. Grateful living is not easy. It is not a fixed, mountaintop, nervanaesque state. It takes regular weighing and judging and breathing. It takes the hard work of building, rather than simply burning it all down. That is where the muscles come in. That is where our strength lies.

Gratitude at 50

I know a few things for sure about gratitude after all the letter writing. Gratitude is a window into a truer, more authentic life. Gratitude is powerful as it multiplies, embraces, reminds, and inspires. Gratitude is meant to be shared, sung, shouted, whispered, written, and celebrated. Simply understood, gratitude allows us to think about the past and create a sweeter, more abundant future.