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Thanks: W.S. Merwin’s Ode to Defiant Gratitude
In a world that often feels like it's running on a deficit of kindness, where headlines are a litany of conflict and our personal lives can be shadowed by quiet, aching loneliness, the simple act of giving thanks can feel almost radical. It’s not the easy, reflexive gratitude for a sunny day or a promotion, but something far deeper and more defiant—a conscious choice to praise existence itself, even when the evidence seems stacked against it.This is the territory explored by the late poet W. S.Merwin in his profound and deceptively simple poem “Thanks,” and it’s a sentiment that resonates with a piercing clarity in our current moment. We live in what you might call blamethirsty times, where the dominant cultural mode is often critique, dissection, and assigning fault.There’s a place for that, of course, for holding power to account and seeking justice. But when that becomes the only language we speak, something essential withers.To pause in the midst of the chaos, the heartbreak, the witness to both grand genocides and the small, casual cruelties of daily life, and to utter a word of thanks—that is an act of courage. It’s a form of resistance against the pull toward cynicism and mere survival.It’s insisting on the beautiful without ever denying the brokenness that surrounds it. I was reminded of this potent force recently, not in a grand philosophical treatise, but in a quiet, almost unbearably beautiful artist’s book by Rachel Hébert, a tactile object that feels like a prayer held in your hands.Her “Book of Thanks” operates in the same spiritual vein as Merwin’s work, turning gratitude from a passive feeling into an active, creative practice. It speaks to a truth I’ve heard in countless conversations with people from all walks of life: that our capacity for gratitude isn’t diminished by hardship, but is often forged within it.Think of the person who, after a profound loss, finds themselves achingly grateful for the memory of a shared laugh. Or the community that, in the aftermath of a disaster, builds solidarity around a simple shared meal.This isn’t about Pollyannaish denial; it’s about a clear-eyed recognition that life, in all its terrifying fragility, is also a gift. None of it had to be.This breath, this particular slant of light through the window, this connection with another person—none of it was guaranteed. To bless something simply for being, as Merwin’s poem implores us to do, is to engage with the fundamental miracle of existence.It’s a perspective deeply rooted in certain spiritual and philosophical traditions, from Buddhist mindfulness to the Christian concept of grace, but you don’t need a doctrine to feel its pull. In my interviews, I’ve found it’s often those who have stared into the abyss—the hospice worker, the veteran, the survivor—who articulate this kind of gratitude with the most startling clarity.
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#Rachel Hébert
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