Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud,but I walked numbly through the park, round and round, 40 times for 4 hoursjust wanting to make it through the day.There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got throughand the sky was so blue I couldn’t look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories,but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desktick tick tickme not making a soundand some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind,but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine.This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely waysbut you can not let it.I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use. the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness,thinking it will help but it only feeds the fireand I don't want to hurt myself anymore.I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me—little me. From nowhere at all. And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again. It will always be spring again.And there will always be a new day.

We are sometimes dragged into a pit of unhappiness by someone else’s opinion that we do not look happy.

happiness pleasure humor despair sadness pain heartache joy suffering joke sad grief humour funny broken-hearted torment sorrow contentment blue impression misery depression happy heartbroken hurting melancholy ecstasy satisfaction smiling unhappy humorous quotes agony face opinion opinions unhappiness satire miserable holes impressions enjoyment jokes cheerfulness tribulation euphoria faces aphorism quotations dejection depressed hilarious distress down delight well-being joyful bliss content satisfied desolation aphorisms blissful woe hole sunny lightheartedness exhilaration joyfulness merriment gloom euphoric woeful forlorn cheerful rapture anguish carefree despondency despondent delighted morose aphorist aphorists gloomy exuberance merry joyous lighthearted wretchedness gaiety on-top-of-the-world glee beatific elated despairing ecstatic chagrin mournful pleased gratified as-happy-as-a-clam beaming blissfulness blithe buoyant cheerless cheery chirpy contented dejected disconsolate dispirited doleful dolefulness down-at-the-mouth down-in-the-dumps down-in-the-mouth downcast downhearted elation exhilarated exultant gleeful gloominess glum glumness good-spirits grinning in-a-good-mood in-good-spirits in-seventh-heaven jocular jocund jollity jolly jovial joviality joyless jubilant jubilation jumping-for-joy long-faced low-spirits lugubrious malaise mournfulness on-a-high on-cloud-nine over-the-moon overjoyed pit pits radiant rapturous sorrowful the-blues thrilled tickled-pink transports-of-delight untroubled walking-on-air woebegone

Sometimes I wonder how much of our suffering we allow or impose on ourselves simply in search of our worthiness to accept our own respect and appreciation. I’d written before some years ago that we often cause suffering in another so that we can then love them, as in, “You have suffered for me, so I can love you now.” The eventual shock of realizing the sacrifice made for you destroys the walls of self-righteousness and protection. The suffering sacrifice of another creates the willingness and capacity to do the same. Finally, love and respect (respect is part of the body of love) come from the recognition of something else already given up for them.Within the individual, you or me, a similar process takes place toward oneself. It is as if we know some- where that we are not worthy of our own love or respect until we have earned the right to it, and that is mainly through some kind of suffering. That suffering may be generic, as in a life lived in which tragedy after tragedy accumulate, or it may be specific, as in the constant sacrifice of other easier things for a being or vision. Or, perhaps more correctly, it is either consciously chosen or not.

Contemplation is purer still, yet more sophisticated. This comes from a strongly developed base of concentration—basically, constancy—through any temptation, including altered states of consciousness, that leads one to meditation (effortless engagement), from which is born an intuitive connection to that which is being focused upon (often, the nature of being in the moment, which is the default “focus”). Some people can attain this state accidentally through some combination of surprising events, which is sometimes called revelation. Fewer still can cause this to happen intentionally, mainly because you have to surprise yourself to have it occur. In any case, it requires a real sense of the value of paradox. One leaves a single position behind (such as “I like this” or “I don’t like this”) and expands in comprehension to simultaneously experience its opposite as well. From there, one rises above the two through a creative burst of intuition, and looks down on them both. What you might call transcendence, although I prefer mildly amused.