Earlier this year a friend of mine tried to articulate contrasting feelings which, it seemed to me, were rooted in her perceived lack of identity since the birth of her child. One thing above all struck me as she sobbed her way through our meeting: she felt that she should have been grateful for all she had and yet could not come to terms with the potent sense of inadequacy that had permeated her days since the euphoria of the first few months had petered out.

Over the past few years, we have witnessed a publishing trend that churns out countless guides which promise to reveal us secrets to happiness, wealth, health, in all their combinations thereof.

However, that which claims to reveal a great secret is often either presenting common sense re-packaged by a stellar marketing strategy or leaving us painfully aware that there is no secret after all and that we knew this stuff backwards anyway.

Gratitude, positive thinking, attraction, prosperity, secrets, powers are all terms that scream for our attention from bookshelves everywhere. While it is now unfashionable to call oneself Christian, Muslim, Hindu or whatever, throngs of devotees are out there putting thoughts to the universe, talking of manifesting and of intentions, of materialising a whole raft of things, while somewhere else forward-thinking authors are already penning books for those who are not manifesting enough, quickly enough, often enough.

Yet this movement rooted in the law of attraction discounts the true power we enjoy as individuals: free will channeled through action.

It is not the mere thinking about the job, the house, the holiday, the lawn or the cruise that will materialise them out of the blue sky; it is our actions towards the goal that turn possibility into reality.

The staunchest supporters of this pseudo-science claim that people who die in natural disasters, wars, terrorist attacks must all have been on the same thought frequency (as Byrne states in The Secret) and yet this is an insult to intelligence. To suggest that people encounter grievances because their thoughts have summonsed them is Medieval hocus pocus that values denial of reality above acknowledgment of, and response to, it. Hardship turns up at our door uninvited and unannounced, breaking bread with bad people and with good people too.

It’s called life.

This artificial dichotomy between gratefulness and adversity would be more effectively addressed if we allowed ourselves to admit to weakness and fear, and if we accepted, rather than implicitly denied, that we are human beings, not transmission masts beaming subliminal messages into the sky. This does not logically translate into a lack a spine and stamina or into bleak paranoia which holds hands with depression.

Pure gratitude, the one for which we need no thank you journals, no happiness diaries, no fake checkes, no marketing gizmos, is the one that allows us to embrace our selves when we need it the most; when, stripped bare of everything else, our sense of self remains intact, sustained by the realization that life may not come wrapped up with a bow but is still a gift.

It is now near impossible to state facts in certain circles without being accused of being negative or of being told that we should learn a lesson from it. However, there is a fundamental difference between negativity and factuality: the former thrives on skepticism and denial (and lingers), while the latter acknowledges reality, usually sits on it for a while and then moves on.

It is the forced movement of gratefulness that is rooted in denial. When we disconnect from our feelings in favour of a mantra that has no correlation with our emotional state, we are more likely to amplify our sense of inadequacy. I find Julia Cameron’s persuasion about anger (from The Artist’s Way) more likely to help us get back on our feet when all else has fallen to pieces: ‘

Anger is to be respected.

Why? Because anger is a map. Anger points the way, not just the finger. [...] We are meant to use anger as fuel to take the actions we need to move where our anger points us’. In other words, if you accept the pain, it cannot hurt you. This is radically different from claiming that I can bend a spoon with my thoughts. I have no doubts I will bend a spoon, but I’d rather use my hands.

What are your thoughts? Do you think we’re being short-changed by gratefulness? I’d love to hear your perspectives.

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Stephanella Walsh has defined the constituents of our creative identity for her workshops and eCourses. She writes about the creative process at The Creative Identity, tweets as @stephanellaw, has a degree in English and has completed a PhD in critical theory and cultural studies. She is the author of the forthcoming Slaughter is the Best Medicine and lives in Manchester, England.

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During my travels over the years, I’ve stayed at wonderful hotels, not so wonderful hotels, encountered a mosaic of interesting individuals and captured stories that will remain with me forever. But very few places have felt like “home” – the place where you can kick off your shoes, hang out with a few books and chill.

I arrived for the second time at Hacienda San Agustin de Callo on Thursday (I came for a day visit in July during my first trip to Ecuador).  Inside the hacienda’s majestic historic walls, there’s a special room – what’s known among the visitors and staff as ‘the living room’ – where numerous new and old books, plush sofas, an ever-roaring fire and pictures of the hacienda’s past bring the room alive. Give it character.

The room is just one of many of the unique aspects of Hacienda San Agustin – but likely my favorite.

Last night, like every night there, the guests gathered in the living room for pre-dinner cocktails. We were quite the mixed and matched crowd – a few visitors from Italy on a long holiday trip, one couple stopping by just for dinner and some friends of the owner, Mignon Plaza.  We all spoke different languages, but translated for each other along the way, managing to cover a range of topics – from the health care situation in the U.S. and to Ecuadorian President Correa’s political view to raising children and favorite artists.

Each night at the hacienda features different faces and conversations. For me, bands of energetic people and animated chats easily remind me of home – with four siblings, we grew up with friends coming in and out, music always playing and food always at the reads. My parents kept the door open for everyone – something my sister, brothers, close friends and I  remember fondly to this day.

Perhaps that’s my personal connection – the familiarity of the way of life – even if in design, the hacienda is geographically away from where I live. Those feelings of connection have followed me to Florence, where I lived for a summer, Buenos Aires, where I worked for two months and Chicago, where I lived happily for three years. There are many others, but these stand out to me the most.

But, despite Dorothy’s popular mantra, perhaps we are meant to have more than just one place that feels like home.

Are there places – near or far – that are your home away from home? Share in the comments and be sure to tell us where and why.

*The picture above is my own and is a snapshot of the hacienda living room coffee table books. Right next to the fireplace. Awesome.

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No better time to read a book about the American presidency than near the start of a new presidential era. American Wife is a story of the other side; the woman behind the man, living a life into which she was not elected.

Curtis Sittenfeld’s work develops a simple character: a young, single woman (Alice) with a great family and friends, but who has a hidden secret (don’t we all). Through a fairy-tale, whirlwind romance, she marries her seeming soul mate, a man with a prominent family history, yet he is always searching for ways to make his name.

Comfortable in her own skin, Alice is unsure of the new life into which she’s entered. They have a marriage similar to many; they experience their share of happiness and marital strife. Yet they have opposing politics and different views on what it means to live a fulfilling life.

But here’s the cool part: even as the wife of the President of the United States, Alice ultimately maintains her security, personal politics and life focus. Not unlike Jackie.

How many of us, whether in relationships, spurred by family dynamics or motivated by lofty ambitions, become chameleons and forget ourselves? I sure have. It’s human nature. But Alice handles all of the change and chaos that surrounds her with poise and grace.

But Is It That Easy?
That’s where my only critique comes in: is it that easy to not be extremely affected by our circumstances? To not adjust our core beliefs – even slightly – to fit in? To hold our graceful pose not matter what comes our way? Alice is a well-developed character, but I’m not convinced it’s that easy to stay 100% true to ourselves no matter what life throws our way.

I also believe that the book’s themes could just as easily be applied to women in various non U.S. cultures as well as women who are single. Finding one’s identity amidst circumstances, patriarchal norms and familial dynamics is not only for the married woman. History – and Herstory- is all the evidence we need.

That aside, I genuinely enjoyed this book so much that I left in the Caymans at the resort where I stayed, a result of my own core belief that good books should be shared. The resort also keeps a large library of books that visitors have left behind for others to read.

It’s a good thinking book. Less of a chick lit read than one might assume. Even for you men out there – if you’re  a voracious reader or a man committed to understanding the secret minds of women (c’mon, you know you are), you’ll enjoy this one.

Which leads me to the question I have for all of you: Is it our circumstances that shape us or do we shape our circumstances? Does who we become (or who we are) depend on how much money we have, what country we live in, our gender or other factors? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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