Heres a piece of wisdom Ive learned from the most spiritual guy on earth, my metaphysical hero of sorts, Mike Leach: you, and you alone are responsible for your happiness.
No one person, place, or thing can do the job for you.
I remember how relieved I was the first time he said that to me as if my fate didnt depend on picking the winning lotto number, or right relationship, or proper career, or on growing up in the perfect nuclear family where two stable, profanity-free parents would gather their emotionally nurtured, well-adjusted offspring around a cozy fire to discuss Homers the Iliad and the Odyssey that I could be happy even in the midst of dysfunction.
Yah!
Because there are lots of that where I live.
But the second part of this adage requires substantial perspiration and a love relationship with dirt. Because you have to dig deep, burrow into the compartments of your soul, and meet who is there. If shes standing there naked with sagging breasts and a butt full of cellulitewith a pathetic vocabulary and low SAT scoresyou have to accept and love her anyway. I remind myself to go in, not out at least 67 times a day, because my first inclination is always to grab for something to make me happy. Its easier to collect than to dig. But at the end of the day, youre sitting in the midst of a bunch of crap that youve amassed, feeling empty with one more job to do: de-cluttering.
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