My best days used to drive me insane. One day I’d lose myself in the golden bliss of a perfection–nothing could phase me. Then the next I’d step on a tack straight from bed, bump my shin on the coffee table, spill coffee from said table on my groin, and curse and scream at minor inconveniences for the rest of the day. Like an r-tard.
If I could be high on gratitude and joy on any given day, what exactly was stopping me from doing it every day? After I asked this question, I started taking notes on all of my days to find out. And I began to see a pattern emerge: