Gratitude Is an Act of Rebellion

By Scotty, Tradesman, Artist, and Professional Life-Ponderer

I had a day that hit like a perfect build—clean, strong, electric. After 18 months of a work situation that sucked the soul out of me, I got through it. Done. And I’m grateful. Not just “that’s nice” grateful, but the kind that makes you want to high-five the universe. Gratitude’s no fuzzy feeling—it’s a choice, a rebellion against the debt of a lie. That lie? The one that says money, status, or a perfect life is what matters. It’s a debt that weighs you down, chaining you to facades while truth—gratitude for what’s real—sets you free. As a guy who’s crisscrossed this country swinging a hammer, I’m here to preach the gospel of giving thanks.

Life’s a mystery, served with “why am I even here?” We’ve all stared at a job site or an empty bank account, wondering the point. Americans chase money like it’s the truth, but it’s often a lie piling up debt on your soul. Some stack cash; others, like me, stack hours. Mike saw my worn boots and said, “Scotty, man, you’ve been everywhere, you must make a lot of money.” I laughed. “Ohh, Mike, listen, dude, I’m really good at working hard, making money, not so much, you know.” That’s me—grind master, bank account apprentice, free from the lie that cash equals worth.

I’m a tradesman with an artist’s soul, a Grateful Dead heart. My path’s a mix of laying pipe and chasing vibes. I run a crew that’s a band of truth-tellers: a welder who’s part scientist, two carpenters who frame like it’s their religion, a master laminator who makes surfaces sing, a CNC machinist carving precision, and Aaron, my go-to electrician-carpenter who can do anything. Then there’s Sandy, a woman who nails anything artistic and welds when our main guy’s out. They’re my gratitude in action—living true, not chasing lies. I’m thankful for their hustle, their realness.

My welder’s a metallurgist wizard; watching him or Sandy spark up is like Jerry Garcia riffing—pure art. Aaron wires buildings and builds cabinets like it’s nothing. The carpenters and laminator bring grit, the machinist high-tech edge. They don’t buy the lie that work’s just a paycheck—they build with truth, and that’s why I’m grateful. The debt of a lie would have them chasing corporate gigs or Instagram clout, but they show up, real, making the job site hum.

The grind’s not pretty. I’m not married, and relationships? I’m better at welding pipes than hearts. But even on rough days, gratitude pulls me through—a job site sunrise, a beer with the boys, the fact I’m still swinging. Gratitude’s a muscle: work it, it grows. Most folks flex complaints, trapped in the lie of what’s missing—bigger house, fatter paycheck. They’re blind to the roof, the sandwich, the heartbeat. Shake off that debt, people. Truth is, you’ve got plenty to thank the universe for.

Here’s my unhinged-uncle-at-Thanksgiving moment: I’m grateful for the Grateful Dead. As a kid, I thought they were tie-dye hippies. Now? They were truth-livers, dodging the lie of chasing paychecks for moments of joy. Kids preach “work-life balance,” and I’m like, “I’d balance, but bills tip the scales.” If I had a trust fund, I’d be a Deadhead, strumming and munching mangoes. But I’m a tradesman, so I work—my crew and I show up, free from the debt of pretending we’re something we’re not. Work’s purpose, and I’m grateful for it.

Now, my wild pitch: let’s make America grateful again, free from the debt of a lie. Not fake “thoughts and prayers” grateful, but real—thanking God, friends, the coffee guy. Back in the day, a 25-year-old tradesman could marry, buy a house, have a kid, afford a vacation. Life was affordable, not a lie promising “work harder for less.” Now, I’m hustling to pay bills, like most. Let’s make hard work—like my crew’s grind—mean a good life, not scraping by. Bring back thriving on one income, cheap burgers, naturally affordable food.

I’m no guru. I’m a guy chasing weird paths, backed by a crew that makes me look good. Gratitude’s the antidote to the debt of a lie—thanking my welder, Aaron, Sandy, the team for their truth. It’s thanking the bartender, the sunrise. It’s being a good friend, a good American, living real. Look at your dented life and say

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