Voice Memo to Sarah, 7:43 AM:

"I am grateful for Phil freaking Collins. Because when I was waking up and still lying in bed, I was watching an interview with him on the Graham Norton show that I think was within the last year. I just LOVE this resurgence of Phil Collins because I have always loved him, but there was a period of time where it really wasn't cool to still love Phil Collins, and it just helps things a lot that he's made such a comeback. [laugh out loud] Now it's like you can say proudly that you love Phil Collins. I'm kidding, but not really. That's also what's so cool about being in your mid-forties. I told Ben recently there's nothing like being in your 40s. It's just unbelievable. You really, really know yourself in your 40s. You just know who you are. So you can navigate life so differently because you don't have that fleeting sense of self. And it's just yummy."

Life has this funny way of bringing back exactly what you need, exactly when you need it. Like Sarah. One random Instagram DM, and suddenly I have this ride-or-die soul sister back in my life, the kind of friendship I'd been longing for without even realizing it. 

We were so close in high school and college, but life- as it does with many friendships - took us in different directions and we lost touch.

Now our days are strung together with voice memos. She's there when I'm making coffee, driving around town, and getting ready in the morning. She's there when I'm having an existential crisis in the bathroom, or when I've just discovered the perfect meme at 2 AM her time.

Our lives are braided together through these little audio snippets, these pieces of our hearts and minds we send (grateful for technology) across the time zones.

Sarah and I decided to start a daily gratitude practice recently. The first thing I do upon waking is grab my phone and send her a message full of yawns and gratitude. I just immediately start riffing. What comes up is what gets expressed.

This morning I awoke earlier than usual and wasn't ready to get up and be fully alive and conscious, but didn't want to go back to sleep either. You know that sweet place. So, I quasi watched an interview of Phil Collins on the Graham Norton show.

Phil shared his humor, humility, reflection, and the solid little factoid that he didn't want to be the lead singer of Genesis, but they couldn't find anyone that fit the bill after Peter Gabriel.

I could feel the sentiment of gratitude Phil had for his life, despite having some sorrow about all that he missed while his kids were growing up.

Phil's gratitude sat right next to his sadness, and somehow neither canceled out the other. That's what makes me think gratitude isn't just a feeling - it's a pathway.

I think it may be the case that gratitude is the bridge we must construct to get ourselves from despair to hope.

It's something I see people do all the time in conversation. It's a beautiful, seemingly-inherent feature of a human to find the positive; the silver lining.

You hear it in how people talk about hard times:

• "Well, if I hadn't lost that job, I never would have started my own business."
• Or "That breakup was brutal, but it taught me what I really want in a relationship."
• Even in the smallest moments - "At least the traffic gave me time to finish my audiobook."

We're constantly building these tiny bridges, sometimes without even realizing it.

Like we're hard-wired to search for that glimmer of light, that thread of meaning in the mess.

It seems to me that what's happening when we're finding those silver linings can be illustrated using the PHIL method for building a bridge out of gratitude:

P - Pause to notice the tiny gifts: the warmth of morning coffee, the way sunlight hits your window, the sound of your dog's gentle snoring

H - Honor where you are: acknowledge the pain, the struggle, the messy reality of this moment

I - Inventory the good: start small, really small - like "my lungs are breathing" small

L - Light. It. Up: take that tiny spark of gratitude and let it catch fire, illuminate the whole damn room, make it impossible to see anything but the glow

Without a bridge, we'll eventually make our way out of despair. Surely, eventually, something outside of us will happen to make us feel the yummy.

My thought is, why wait? Why not cause that effect instead of waiting to become the effect? If we can build a bridge Phil Collins-style and get to the desired end more expeditiously, I say let's do that.

Things that start inside of us - even if seemingly Against All Odds - will take form in our outer world. Gratitude may not sell love songs, but it's the language of the Universe.