We are living in a time when information has never been more abundant and wisdom has rarely felt more scarce. Our devices shout in a hundred directions, our schedules pull at us, and our attention is scattered thin. Yet beneath all the noise, something quieter keeps tapping us on the shoulder – not a headline, not a trend, but a posture of the heart.
Gratitude.
To some, that word sounds like decoration — a soft emotion for holiday speeches and greeting cards. But that misses the point. Gratitude is not ornament; it is groundwork. It shapes how we see, how we relate, how we lead. Taken seriously, gratitude is a kind of intelligence with real consequences for the way we build our communities.
I have seen this up close in my work at Thanks-Giving Square, that small triangle of land in downtown Dallas where, more than 60 years ago, a group of business leaders made a bold bet. In the wake of painful division, they chose to create a monument not to a politician or a victory, but to a virtue. They believed gratitude had the power to help heal a city. Looking back, they were not being naïve. They were being practical.
Today, our fractures look different — political polarization, rising loneliness, dwindling trust — but the question is the same: How do we live well together? Once again, gratitude turns out to be not just a pleasant feeling, but a strategy. A way of paying attention. A way of moving through the world.
Opinion
The intelligence of gratitude begins with clarity, not comfort. Practicing gratitude is not pretending everything is fine. It is recognizing what is life-giving even when things are not. Gratitude shifts us from scarcity to abundance — not financial abundance, but the abundance of possibility. It reminds us that communities are rarely as broken as their headlines and that most problems have more helpers than villains. Gratitude sharpens our perception. It helps us see neighbors instead of strangers, solutions instead of stalemates. That is perceptual intelligence.
We live in a culture soaked in scarcity — not enough time, not enough attention, not enough bandwidth for compassion. Gratitude disrupts that mindset. It says, “I have enough to begin.” That simple conviction creates momentum. In civic life, as in personal life, nothing changes until people step in and participate. When we practice gratitude, we begin to see the world not as something to control, but as something entrusted to us — something to care for, nurture and heal. That sense of responsibility is civic intelligence.
Then there is relational intelligence — the kind gratitude cultivates almost without trying. Cicero was right when he said that gratitude is the parent of all virtues, not because it makes us polite, but because it makes us aware. A grateful mind remembers the people who steady us: teachers, mentors, co-workers, neighbors, and the unseen hands who keep a city functioning. When we recognize how interdependent we are, humility follows. Humility makes connection possible. And connection is the backbone of any thriving city.
For Dallas — a place with a big heart, big ambition, and its fair share of strain — this kind of relational intelligence is essential. Every time people gather, whether in a chapel, a cafeteria, or a community meeting, gratitude builds connective tissue. It quietly affirms a basic truth: We belong to one another, not because we think alike or worship alike, but because we share a common humanity and a shared place.
Gratitude also fuels creative intelligence. It turns our attention toward what is working — not what is perfect, but what is good — and from there, possibility expands. Culture does not shift because someone drafts a slogan. It shifts because ordinary people decide, bit by bit, to add their tile to the mosaic of the common good. Gratitude hands the pen back to us. We are not spectators in our cultural life. We are the authors. We have agency!
This is why gratitude can never remain only a private emotion. Gratitude is more than a feeling; it is a posture that asks something of us. It calls us to remember the gifts we have received — and then to become givers ourselves. Blessings are not meant to be hoarded. They flow outward into kindness, justice, hospitality and compassion. In a fractured world, that outward flow becomes a form of resistance – a quiet declaration that there is still goodness, still beauty, still hope.
The intelligence of gratitude is not abstract. It is practical. It lowers our defenses. It invites collaboration. It helps us imagine a community that is not only functional but generous, resilient, and hopeful. If we want a city — and a country — that is more compassionate, more trusting and more open to possibility, gratitude must become a public virtue, woven into the ordinary ways we meet, work, lead and live together.
As we step into a new year — 2026, with all its uncertainty, promise, and open doors — gratitude offers not just perspective but direction. It reminds us that renewal rarely comes from resolutions made in isolation, but from commitments lived out in community. If we can carry this posture into January and beyond — eyes attentive, hearts open, hands ready — we will do more than welcome a new year. We will help shape it.
Abundance and agency enable this work. There is enough to allow us all to be lifted. We have what we need to begin. We are more than capable. And it is up to us.
Shouldn’t we be grateful for that?
Kyle Ogden is president and CEO of the Thanks-Giving Foundation.