We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude. – Cynthia Ozick
When was the last time you truly stopped to appreciate something simple—something so ordinary, it usually blends into the background of your busy life?
The other day, I found myself on a desperate quest for a mango. Not just any mango—a perfectly ripe, juicy, tropical dream of a mango. I wandered up and down the aisles of the store like I was on some sort of fruit pilgrimage. But no matter where I looked, there wasn’t a mango in sight. The injustice! How could they do this to me? Didn’t they know I had mentally committed to eating mango slices while binge-watching shows I’d already seen a hundred times?
As I stood there, dramatically staring at the empty fruit display, I began to reflect. Why wasn’t there a mango? Who had failed me? Was it the farmer? The picker? The truck driver? The person who stocks the shelves? Suddenly, I realized how much work it takes to get one mango into my hands. There’s a whole invisible assembly line of people who made it possible for me to stand in that store and complain about its absence.
The farmer, waking up before dawn to nurture the trees. The picker, climbing under the blazing sun to collect the fruit. The truck driver, navigating highways and bad weather to deliver it. The stocker, who probably deals with customers asking questions like, “Are these bananas organic?” when they’re clearly labeled. And here I was, frustrated over one missing mango.
It hit me: I don’t just take mangoes for granted—I take people for granted. How often do we pause to think about the work behind the things we enjoy? From the person who brewed your morning coffee to the team that maintains the roads you drive on, so many people contribute to the little joys and conveniences in our lives, and we rarely notice.
Then I started thinking even deeper. If I take mangoes and people for granted, what else am I overlooking? That’s when it struck me: the breath. The thing that’s been keeping me alive since the day I was born, and I barely notice it. We only think about breathing when it’s labored, rapid, or—let’s be real—when we’re out of shape after climbing two flights of stairs. But it’s always there, silently sustaining us.
Breath is life. It’s the anchor in the storm, the rhythm of our existence, and we hardly ever stop to appreciate it. And just like the mango, the breath is a gift—a reminder that even the simplest things are miraculous.
So, as I continue my mango-less day, I’ll leave you with this:
Who are the people in your life that you might be taking for granted?
What small, everyday things bring you joy or comfort that you rarely stop to appreciate?
How can you start noticing and valuing the “invisible” gifts that sustain you, like your breath?
Let’s take a moment to appreciate it all—before we’re standing in a grocery store aisle, existentially spiraling over a piece of fruit.
