I knew a guy whose first words, every morning before his feet hit the bedside floor, were Thank you Thank you Thank you.
I should’ve asked him what he was grateful for, back when he was sitting next to me in his underwear.
We were watching a Miami Heat game in his hotel room. I don’t remember the city, but his daughter, Skye, was there, too. We all were in town speaking at a weekend conference, and he was the event headliner. Skye and I had dropped by his room to say goodnight, and he invited us in to watch the second half of the game.
There would only be a few of these times left, but we didn’t know that then.
When you’re young, you don’t think you’ll get old.
Wayne Dyer was already there, which he joked about a lot. His body was starting to give out, after 70 years of hard living on the planet, but his spirit was strong.
And that’s what he gave, generously, over and over and over, through written and spoken words, random acts of kindness, resources, and opportunities.
I think I know what he was grateful for every morning.
A new day, another chance.
Thank you Thank you Thank you.
This day should be every day.