You can have flaws, be anxious and even be angry, but don’t forget that your life is the greatest business in the world. Only you can stop it from failure. You are appreciated, admired and loved by many. Remember that being happy is not having a sky without storms, a road without accidents, a job without effort, relationships without disappointments.

“Being happy is to stop feeling a victim and become the author of your own destiny. It’s going through deserts, but being able to find an oasis deep in your soul. It’s to thank God every morning for the miracle of life. It’s kissing your children, cuddling your parents, having poetic moments with your friends, even when they hurt us.

“To be happy is to let live the creature that lives in each of us, free, joyful and simple. It’s having maturity to be able to say: “I made mistakes”. Having the courage to say “I’m sorry”. It’s having a sensitivity to say “I need you”. Is having the ability to say “I love you”. May your life become a garden of opportunities for happiness… that in spring I can be a lover of joy and in winter a lover of wisdom.

“And when you make a mistake, start over. Because only then will you fall in love with life. You will find that being happy doesn’t mean having a perfect life. But she uses tears to irrigate tolerance. Use your defeats to train your patience.

“Use your mistakes with the serenity of the sculptor. Use pain to tune into pleasure. Use obstacles to open the windows of intelligence. Never give up … Above all, never give up on the people that love you. Never give up on happiness, because life is an amazing show.

~Pope Francis

inquiry for today~ where is abundance in your day?

it’s all so simple, but not easy…..

Eight o’clock, no later

You light the lamps,

The big one by the large window,

The small one on your desk.

They are not to see by—

It’s still twilight out over the sand,

The scrub oaks and cranberries.

Even the small birds have not settled

For sleep yet, out of the reach

Of prowling foxes. No,

You light the lamps because

You are alone in your small house

And the wicks sputtering gold

Are like two visitors with good stories

They will tell slowly, in soft voices,

While the air outside turns quietly

A grainy and luminous blue.

You wish it would never change—

But of course the darkness keeps

Its appointment. Each evening,

An inscrutable presence, it has the final word

Outside every door.

~Mary Oliver