There was a time in life when I was sad most days. It is a happy circumstance that that’s no more. Also, one that makes me proud. Being happy takes a shit ton of work and exercise. Practice. Daily focus, commitment. It doesn’t just happen, is what I’ve learned.

Whenever others treat their happiness (or lack thereof) as a random occurrence, I cringe. If there is not a clue of an effort to bend their own mind into a happier, healthier and more productive direction, then I’ve found it hard to listen to folks explain all the things wrong in their lives. Because yeah, I haven’t seen it, and I surely haven’t felt it all. So how would I know?

Well. The idea that there could at any one time be a moment where there’s really nothing we could do about it just seems fucking bollocks. To me. Who would want to believe that? Even if it was true. There is value to our thoughts, and they affect our physiology, our mental state, and point-blank our reality in more ways than we notice. How damn well could it not?

But then what the hell do I know.