I'm happy.

I know. I never thought I would type that sentence either. But even more than that when Parfait asked me how I was yesterday I was brave enough to even say it out loud, "I'm happy." I've been debating whether or not to even type this post. It seems that happiness is usually the death of blogs, who wants to read about being happy? Apparently you do, since you're reading this. Or you don't, because you couldn't even get through the first three sentences.

It's kind of hard for me to admit being happy. I fear that the moment I say it I'll discover that I wasn't actually happy, just tricking myself into thinking so, and everything will come crashing down. Or that I'll ask myself why I'm happy and then become unhappy when I can't think of any specific reason to be happy. But now I think that's stupid. I don't have any reason to be happy, I just am and that's that.

But I can tell you what's aided me in not being unhappy.

This book:



Seriously. If I had a highlighter with me while reading I'd practically be highlighting the entire book. I was a little skeptical when I started it and it's only been like two weeks but really, it's powerful. Go buy it or ask to borrow it from me when I'm finished. But don't ask me to paraphrase, I've tried that and I suck at it.

And look at that. It's popular, by an New York Times best selling author, spiritual, part of Oprah's book club, all reasons why I would have avoided it or at least hid the fact that I was reading it. But now none of that matters.