Yesterday, while filming upcoming Ramadan episodes, a casual conversation turned into an unexpected mirror. We were speaking about work, about life priorities, about our non-negotiables. Health. Travel. Freedom to choose how we live. One person looked at me and said, “At least you can travel abroad.” That sentence stayed with me longer than the cameras did.
It struck me how easily we overlook what once felt like a dream. The ability to travel, to board a plane, to experience another country, to have a passport that moves — these are privileges many quietly pray for. Yet when something painful happens in our lives, our minds zoom in on the wound. Gratitude fades into the background. We begin narrating life from the lens of what is missing instead of what is present.
Psychologically, this tendency is not random. The brain is wired with what researchers call a negativity bias. From an evolutionary perspective, the human mind scans for threats to keep us safe. The amygdala becomes highly responsive to stress, disappointment, and perceived danger. Cortisol levels rise when we dwell on problems, reinforcing the emotional weight of those thoughts. Over time, repeated focus on pain strengthens neural pathways associated with stress and dissatisfaction. The brain becomes efficient at spotting what is wrong.
Gratitude, however, activates a different chemical landscape. When we consciously notice blessings, the prefrontal cortex becomes more engaged, helping regulate emotional responses. Dopamine and serotonin, neurotransmitters linked to well-being and motivation, increase when we reflect on positive experiences. Oxytocin, the bonding hormone, can rise when gratitude is expressed toward others. The brain literally begins to rewire through repetition. Neuroplasticity allows gratitude to become not just a spiritual virtue but a trained mental habit.
Islamic tradition speaks deeply about this human tendency. The Qur’an reminds us, “If you are grateful, I will surely increase you” (Surah Ibrahim 14:7). Gratitude is not presented merely as politeness. It is framed as a gateway to expansion, barakah, and inner peace. In another verse, Allah says, “Indeed, mankind is ungrateful to his Lord” (Surah Al-‘Adiyat 100:6), acknowledging how quickly we forget. This forgetfulness is part of the human condition. The spiritual discipline lies in remembering.
Ramadan itself is an invitation into that remembrance. Fasting sharpens awareness of what we normally consume without thought: water, food, comfort, time. When hunger is felt, the smallest sip becomes sacred. When exhaustion appears, health becomes visible. The deprivation is temporary, yet the lesson is permanent. What we routinely experience is not guaranteed.
Pain has a way of narrowing vision. One unresolved issue can overshadow ten functioning areas of life. A conflict can eclipse stability. A delay can mask abundance. This narrowing is understandable, yet it is incomplete. We might carry one problem while simultaneously living inside countless blessings. Both realities can exist at the same time.
That moment on set reminded me that gratitude requires intention. It is easy to be thankful when life is smooth. The real growth happens when appreciation coexists with difficulty. When the mind begins to spiral toward what is lacking, there is power in gently redirecting it. Not by denying pain, not by minimizing struggle, but by widening perspective.
Travel, health, freedom, opportunities to work, the ability to speak, to create, to connect — these are not small things. Someone somewhere is praying for what we casually mention in conversation. Awareness changes everything. When we consciously acknowledge what we have, our biology shifts, our mood shifts, our faith deepens.
Perhaps the lesson is simple. Count blessings as intentionally as counting problems. Train the mind to see what is already present. Let gratitude become a discipline, not a reaction. In doing so, the heart softens, the brain recalibrates, and life begins to feel fuller — not because circumstances changed overnight, but because perspective did.
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