Nothing evokes impatient dread like a “required reading” component of a class, conference, or job, even for avid readers. Maybe it’s the idea of personal choice, past insufferable reading, or a combination of both, but when the situation presented itself recently, I procrastinated for as long as possible (that can be the subject of another blog). Having another person regard the book negatively didn’t help either.
When I finally resigned myself to begin the arduous task of reading it—on a plane, no less—I was pleasantly surprised. The author/researcher/professor/psychologist who wrote it tackled the psychology of happiness, including the elements of our own happiness we have control over and those we don’t. On the surface, it’d be easy to scoff at the notion there’s a psychiatry to happiness; however, as Dr. Martin Seligman, in Authentic Happiness points out, why would studying the science of happiness be any different than studying the science of depression? The hope of preventing, rather than overcoming, depression seems a more advantageous pursuit. Mesmerizing! I believe I’ll read on.
Which leads me to share a practice initiated by a student of Dr. Seligman in his Positive Psychology class called “Gratitude Night.” The point of the exercise involved bringing a person to class who was integral to the student’s life and who had not been properly thanked. Students prepared—over several weeks—a statement explaining the person’s significance to his or her life. When the unsuspecting person came to the class, the student delivered the speech. Everyone in the room experienced a shared, giving moment, none more than the student and honoree. As Seligman would share, Gratitude Night became the most memorable day of the semester.
We all have people throughout our lives who enable us to be better. For these college students to not only have the chance to thank their patrons, but learn the practice at a young age begs duplication. The act doesn’t have to be a public one, though. Seligman describes a suitable exercise for all of his readers:
“Select one important person from your past who has made a major, positive difference in your life and to whom you have never fully expressed your thanks (Do not confound this selection with newfound romantic love or with the possibility of future gain). Write a testimonial just long enough to cover one laminated page. Take your time composing this; my students and I found ourselves taking several weeks, composing on buses and as we fell asleep at night. Invite that person to your home or travel to that person’s home. It is important that you do this face to face, not in writing or on the phone. Do not tell the person the purpose of the visit in advance: as simple “I just want to see you” will suffice. Wine and cheese (the event for the class included these) won’t matter, but bring a laminated version of your testimonial as a gift. When all settles down, read your testimonial slowly, with expression, and with eye contact. Then, let the other person react unhurriedly. Reminisce together about the concrete events that made this person so important to you. (If you are so moved, please do send me a copy at seligman@psych.upenn.edu).”
While all of us don’t particularly enjoy writing, the opportunity to thank those who took a chance on us, or showed us the way, or just treated us with grace seems one worth taking. The beauty of writing, anyway, remains in its heartfelt sincerity; the length of the words or complexity of form is of little consequence. This exercise requires only that—a true understanding and appreciation of the person you’re thanking.
When I taught high school seniors to write thank you cards, I’d tell them to pretend the addressee was sitting next to them, and they’re having a comfortable conversation, sharing how they’d used the gift or what it enabled them to do. If needed, write the note out on another piece of paper, making sure to get the tone intended. The whole point is to allow the receiver to feel your gratitude. Such a simple gesture, thanking someone, yet the experience proves joyful for both parties.
I haven’t finished reading Seligman’s book, but I will—and I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it. Who doesn’t want to be happier?
Quote:
“What we see depends mainly on what we look for.” John Lubbock
Designs on Life 