Honoring Gratitude, Truth, and Reciprocity by April Thanhauser
“On this day of gratitude, we gather to honor both the light of togetherness and the shadow of history, holding space for remembrance and reciprocity.”
Embracing Gratitude Amid Complex History
In the midst of our U.S. consumer culture, it's remarkable that we still set aside a day simply called Thanksgiving. How poignant this day is—filled with both light and shadow. It reminds us to embrace gratitude, while also stirring the discomfort of knowing that much of the Thanksgiving story we learned as children was simply not true. Many of us were told a myth about “The First Thanksgiving”—an idyllic scene where Pilgrims sat at a picnic table, gratefully partaking in the bounty shared by their “Indian friends.” Yet we now know the broader story holds a legacy of treachery and genocide, leaving many to mark this third Thursday in November as a day of mourning. While I deeply honor this day as a time of mourning for many, I also choose to celebrate Thanksgiving with gratitude for both the season and the opportunity to gather with loved ones.
Cooking, Gathering, and the Stories We Share
Thanksgiving brings us a day to gather as family, with the beautiful simplicity of preparing and enjoying good food together. For many, it’s a chance to reconnect with loved ones. My extended family, scattered across the Northeast, reunites each year with a shared commitment, knowing that, deep down, these gatherings are part of our human fabric. While we may have long forgotten the hunting, foraging, and harvesting roots of such celebrations, the pull to gather remains.
In our family, we bring together flavors from diverse roots (who first thought of mixing marshmallows with sweet potatoes, or adding lemon meringue pie and pineapple cranberry sauce to our New England spread of pumpkins and apples?). Among all the dishes, my favorite might be Cloe’s mushroom gravy—an essential addition that makes everything it touches even more delicious.
Rituals and Reflections: Embracing Tradition with Meaning
Just before the meal, we observe an unusual family tradition invented by my children when they were young. Those not busy in the kitchen head outdoors, often barefoot, only to come back as “starving children,” knocking at the door and asking for a place at the feast. We welcome them in. This ritual feels like an echo of something deep within—a nod to the ancestors who may have emigrated, not for “religious freedom,” but to escape hunger. How many of us carry this ancient drive to nourish, and how can we, as a society, respond to those hungry at our own doors?
At our table, we give thanks—though quickly, mindful of the little ones’ attention spans. We express gratitude to the sources of our feast: sun, rain, Earth, seeds, plants, animals, and the many hands that helped bring it to us. In that moment, we remember our ancestors, offering a toast to the beloved ones no longer with us. The meal may not be serene—there are highchairs to wrangle, spills, laughter—but everyone leaves with both body and spirit fed, carrying an invisible fullness that will last until next year.
Walking Together: Time for Reflection and Reciprocity
In the days following, we resist the shopping frenzy. Instead, we walk through forests or along seashores, marveling at lichens, kelp, seabirds, eagles, and owls. Here, too, we are grateful for the wild beings we share the Earth with.
This time together is a slow, reflective release that allows us to consider reciprocity: What can we, who have been nourished so richly, offer back?
Giving Back: Honoring What We’ve Received
Then, after the weekend’s consumerism comes a day now known as Giving Tuesday. How beautiful is this reminder to pause and give back? We’re called to contribute what we can—money, service, love—to the organizations that champion what we value most.
Yet, in truth, the call to reciprocity is with us always. Many of us offer small gestures throughout the year: a whispered prayer over breakfast, a bowl of food for Nature spirits, suet for the birds, or simply our compost pile to nurture the tiny lives within it. We extend care to our kin, both close and distant.
A note from ONE
“Since 1970, Indigenous people & their allies have gathered at noon on Cole's Hill in Plymouth to commemorate a National Day of Mourning on the US Thanksgiving holiday.” To read more from United American Indians of New England about last year’s Day of Mourning in Plymouth, click here. This year’s Day of Mourning will be in Plymouth at noon on Thursday, November 28.
We also welcome you to draw inspiration from Bioneers’ guide to Decolonizing Thanksgiving.
April Thanhauser lives in a forested area of Vermont where she engages in and teaches Communing with Plants. A practitioner of reflexology and Plant Spirit Healing, she is especially devoted to healing through limpias; spiritual bathing with plants. She is also a storyteller and puppeteer who delights in the cooperative making of community celebrations and ceremonies in honor of the natural world.
In ONE, she welcomes the opportunity to work for the resurgence of our human awareness of the sacred in Nature and our rededication to the interconnectedness of all beings
