Gratitude, Coffee, and A Little Dog Hair

Every fall, I try to take a minute to think about what I’m grateful for. Not in the “everything is perfect and I meditate at sunrise” kind of way - more like, “wow, that was chaotic, but somehow I’m still standing and there’s coffee” kind of way.

This year, I’m grateful for so much - starting with all of you. You show up for yourselves (and your sore backs, frazzled nerves, and random mystery aches) and let me stick needles in you. That’s trust. And it never stops amazing me how acupuncture can shift things - pain, stress, sleep, mood - all in one peaceful hour.

I’m also grateful for the laughter that fills the clinic: the “can you needle my motivation?” requests, the “I swear I wasn’t stressed before I got here” confessions, “Can you put more of those happy balls in my ears?” and the post-acupuncture bliss-face that makes it look like you just floated back from another dimension. Those little moments remind me how much joy lives inside the work I do.

And then there’s my other world - the animal one. Between patients, I’ve found myself knee-deep (sometimes literally) in rescue life. I’m grateful for the dogs and cats who remind me what resilience looks like - the ones who’ve been through hell but still wag, purr, or nudge for affection. Every time I help a foster heal, it feels like acupuncture for my own heart. It’s messy, it’s emotional, it’s often covered in fur…but it’s also the purest reminder of why I believe in healing at all.

Outside of needles and fur, I’m grateful for small things that keep me balanced: slow mornings, dog walks, kitten snuggles, early 90s toyotas, friends who make me laugh at life’s weirdness, and coffee - lots of coffee.

Gratitude doesn’t erase the hard stuff, but it softens it. It helps me see the goodness in the middle of the chaos - in the clinic, at home, and in every tail wag or deep sigh from a patient (human or otherwise).

So this season, I hope you find your version of that. Whatever fills your cup - or curls up in your lap - hold it close.

With gratitude (and a little dog hair),

Cortnae