Reflect upon your present blessings of which every man has many -

Hear the voice of Charles Dickens, the great chronicler of human sorrow and human hope, who declared: “Reflect upon your present blessings of which every man has many—not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.” This is no idle counsel, but the wisdom of one who walked among the poor and the broken, who saw misery in the streets of London, yet who still found reason to kindle light in the hearts of his readers. He teaches us that though suffering is universal, so too are blessings, and that the noble path is to fix the mind not on what has been lost, but on what remains.

The origin of these words lies in Dickens’s lifelong concern for the struggles of ordinary men and women. He himself knew hardship as a child, sent to work in a blacking factory while his family languished in debtors’ prison. He could easily have drowned in bitterness, dwelling forever on his past misfortunes. Yet out of his trials he forged a vision: to see the dignity of human beings even in suffering, and to show that gratitude and love can grow in the most barren soil. His quote reflects this creed—that though life deals wounds to all, one can still choose to contemplate the light rather than the shadow.

History is rich with those who embodied this truth. Consider Helen Keller, who, blind and deaf from infancy, endured trials few can imagine. Her misfortunes were immense, yet she did not live in their shadow. She gave her gaze, though it was inward, to her blessings—the patience of her teacher, the miracle of language, the chance to inspire others. Through this reflection she transformed herself from a symbol of pity into a beacon of strength for generations. Her life illustrates precisely what Dickens urged: to direct the mind toward what gives life, not what drains it.

So too in the ancient world. The Stoic philosopher Epictetus was born a slave, his body broken by cruelty, yet he declared himself free, for no man could chain his mind. He accepted his misfortunes as the lot of all men, but he gave his energy to what he still possessed: the freedom of thought, the power of virtue, the capacity for wisdom. In turning his heart toward his present blessings, he gained peace even in bondage, a peace kings themselves often failed to find.

The emotional power of Dickens’s words lies in their universality. All men have some misfortunes, he reminds us—none walk through life unscarred. But equally, every man has many blessings. To choose which to dwell upon is to choose the quality of one’s soul. To brood over wrongs is to live in chains of memory; to reflect upon blessings is to walk in freedom, carrying gratitude as a lamp against the darkness.

The lesson for us is clear: train the mind in gratitude. Each day, pause and name the blessings you yet hold—your breath, your health, your loved ones, your opportunities, your very chance to rise again tomorrow. Do not deny your pain, but do not enthrone it. Let your gaze fall more often upon the gifts than upon the wounds, and you will discover strength and joy even in hardship. Gratitude does not erase misfortune, but it renders it powerless to rule your life.

So let your practice be this: when bitterness rises, answer it with remembrance of blessings. When sorrow whispers of the past, answer with gratitude for the present. And when you are tempted to measure your life by what has been taken, measure it instead by what still remains, and by what yet may be given. For as Dickens teaches, the noble spirit is not the one who never suffers, but the one who turns his gaze toward blessings, and by doing so, becomes a blessing to others.