All mundane moments lying around have their
potential of happiness and joy. They are meaningless until you spot them. The
moment you dispel their anonymity with your caring look, they turn into a huge
treasure instantly, at least for the aesthetics-starved heart in the present
times.
To me happiness is when everything is
soaked in rain in the morning and the diligent newspaper boy hands you a copy
of dry newspaper. You feel like proclaiming him a champion and yourself a
lottery winner. You just grab your slightly damp copy—newsprint is so
soft that it soaks some moisture from the air itself, so the delivery boy
cannot help in this—like a prized possession.
Life is not about mountains of mighty
triumphs. It's about tiny molehills of such small pleasures. Learn to be happy
with scores of little, little strokes of luck that come your way on a daily
basis. Simple mathematics is: At the end of the day, the sum total of our
little fractions of luck is more than the big shitty stroke of bad luck.
Appreciate your tiny sinews of luck, for they constitute the rope of your
survival and sustenance. If not for them, things can go wrong in as many ways
as the vastness of this universe.
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