Best of all is it to preserve everything in a pure, still heart

"Best of all is it to preserve everything in a pure, still heart, and let there be for every pulse a thanksgiving, and for every breath a song." In this radiant declaration, Konrad von Gesner, the Renaissance scholar and naturalist, gives us a vision of life lived not in fragments, but in harmony. He reveals that true thanksgiving is not confined to a single day or a single act, but should beat with the pulse of our very being. To live rightly is to make each heartbeat an act of gratitude and each breath an offering of praise. This is thanksgiving elevated from ritual to rhythm, from practice to existence.

The origin of such wisdom is found in the spiritual traditions of both East and West, where sages long taught that the heart must be kept pure and still if one is to perceive truth. The ancients spoke of silence within, of cultivating calm against the storms of life, so that the soul might remain in harmony with God and nature. Gesner, living in an age of discovery and turbulence, saw that amidst knowledge, ambition, and struggle, the greatest treasure was still the heart at peace—unmoved by vanity, anchored in gratitude, radiant with song.

History shows us lives shaped by this truth. Consider Dietrich Bonhoeffer, centuries after Gesner, who even from a Nazi prison cell maintained a heart of thanksgiving. In his letters, he wrote not of despair but of gratitude—for friendship, for faith, for the very breath that sustained him. His every word was a testament that though the body may be bound, the heart that beats with thanksgiving remains free. This living out of Gesner’s teaching proves that gratitude can transform suffering into testimony, silence into song.

The image of "every pulse a thanksgiving" is deeply evocative. For our hearts beat ceaselessly, often unnoticed, sustaining us without demand. To make each beat an act of gratitude is to live in constant awareness of life’s gift. And "every breath a song" calls us to turn even the act of breathing into worship. The ancients would have called this the life of the mystic, but it is also the life of the wise—the one who sees no moment as trivial, no breath as wasted, but sanctifies all with gratitude.

Yet this teaching is not easy, for the world is loud, restless, and filled with distractions. To cultivate a still heart is to resist the pull of anger, fear, and greed. It is to master oneself so that the storms outside cannot enter within. In this discipline lies freedom: for when the heart is still, gratitude flows without ceasing, and joy arises not from possessions or circumstance, but from the awareness of life itself.

The lesson for future generations is this: guard your heart with vigilance, for it is the temple of thanksgiving. Do not wait for feasts or festivals to give thanks, but weave gratitude into the rhythm of your days. In sorrow, give thanks for strength; in joy, give thanks for love; in silence, let your breath itself be your song. A life lived this way becomes not only blessed but also a blessing to others, for a grateful heart radiates peace and draws others into its light.

And the practical action is this: begin each day with a moment of stillness. Place your hand upon your heart and remember that every beat is a gift. As you breathe, whisper words of thanks—for life, for love, for the chance to live another day. Carry this awareness into your work, into your conversations, into your trials. By doing so, you will transform the ordinary into the sacred, and you will live as Gesner envisioned: every pulse a thanksgiving, every breath a song.

Thus, his words endure as a hymn to the generations: gratitude is not an act but a way of being. The pure, still heart becomes the fountain of joy, the steady beat of thanks becomes the rhythm of life, and the breath itself, so often forgotten, becomes a ceaseless song offered to God and to the world.