Practicing Thankfulness, Connection, and Care.
November often invites us to reflect on gratitude. We are encouraged to slow down, take stock of what we have, and appreciate the people and experiences that bring meaning to our lives. In yoga, gratitude can be a familiar part of our practice, whether it’s appreciating what our bodies can do, finding a moment of stillness in a busy day, or simply recognizing the opportunity to show up on our mats.
But what if gratitude also invites us to look beyond ourselves?
One of the things I appreciate most about yoga is that it offers more than a physical practice. It encourages us to pay attention: to our bodies, our breath, our relationships, and the world around us. And sometimes, paying attention means recognizing things we might otherwise take for granted, or questioning assumptions we’ve grown accustomed to accepting.
Gratitude is often framed as a personal practice, something we cultivate to feel happier, more grounded, or more content. And while there is real value in appreciating what we have, I sometimes wonder whether our emphasis on gratitude can also encourage us to overlook the circumstances that shape our lives. When we’re told to focus on the positive, do we sometimes feel pressure to dismiss our struggles, or to accept things as they are rather than imagine how they might be different?
Yoga offers us an opportunity to approach gratitude differently. Rather than asking us to ignore discomfort, the practice invites us to notice it with curiosity and compassion. We learn to sit with difficult sensations, acknowledge our limitations, and recognize that growth doesn’t always come from seeking comfort. Perhaps we can extend that same awareness beyond our mats.
When we arrive at the studio, for example, we might feel grateful for the warmth of the room, the kindness of a teacher, or the sense of community that comes from practicing alongside others. Yet our experience is also made possible by countless people and circumstances we may rarely stop to consider. The people who maintain our shared spaces. The teachers who make time for us. The communities that sustain us. Even the simple ability to carve out an hour for ourselves is something that isn’t equally available to everyone.
Time to rest, space to move, and opportunities to care for our bodies are shaped by far more than personal choices. Work schedules, financial resources, caregiving responsibilities, physical accessibility, and our broader social environments all influence who gets to experience these things and under what conditions.
Recognizing these differences doesn’t diminish our gratitude. If anything, it can deepen it.
Maybe gratitude, like yoga, is something we practice rather than something we perfect.
Yoga philosophy reminds us that we exist in relationship with others. Ahimsa, often understood as non-harming, invites us to practice compassion not only toward ourselves but also toward the people and world around us. Aparigraha, or non-grasping, asks us to reflect on our attachments and our relationship to what we possess. And seva, or selfless service, encourages us to consider how we might contribute to the wellbeing of others.
These ideas invite us to think about gratitude as something more than an internal feeling. If we’re grateful for the spaces where we feel safe, how might we help create that sense of safety for others? If we’re grateful for opportunities to rest and care for ourselves, how might we support others in accessing those same opportunities? And if we value the sense of belonging we find in our yoga community, what does it mean to extend that belonging beyond the studio walls?
As Thanksgiving approaches, I also think there is value in recognizing that gratitude doesn’t require us to overlook the complexities of our histories or the inequalities of our present. The holiday holds different meanings for different communities, including histories of displacement and dispossession that are often left out of familiar celebrations. We can appreciate moments of connection and generosity while remaining curious about whose stories are remembered, whose contributions are recognized, and whose experiences are overlooked.
Perhaps that’s one of the more meaningful lessons yoga offers us: the ability to hold multiple truths at once.
We can feel grateful for our own wellbeing while acknowledging that wellbeing is not equally accessible to everyone. We can appreciate our communities while asking how they might become more welcoming, equitable, and inclusive. And we can celebrate the good in our lives without turning away from the challenges that surround us.
Importantly, none of this means that every moment of gratitude must become an exercise in self-criticism or guilt. Gratitude shouldn’t be another thing we feel obligated to get right. Rather, it can be an invitation to approach our lives with greater awareness, humility, and generosity.
This November, perhaps we can take our gratitude a little further. Beyond noticing what we’re thankful for, we might ask ourselves: Who and what make these things possible? Whose contributions do I sometimes overlook? What circumstances allow me to experience the things I value? And how might I express my gratitude in ways that extend beyond myself?
Maybe gratitude, like yoga, is something we practice rather than something we perfect. And perhaps its greatest potential lies not simply in helping us appreciate the world as it is, but in inspiring us to care for the world as it could be.