Sometimes I feel slighted by life. So much so that I want to punish life for its insolence. I imagine figuring out life’s secrets and exposing them to the world.
But then I start feeling sorry for life. Maybe life is doing its best. Perhaps life is providing all it can for me, but I’ve been too self-centered and immature, so I overreact and complain about all the alleged bad things, and miss all the good things. Maybe I’m ungrateful for the adventure life is providing me. So now, instead of feeling angry at life, I feel like an inconsiderate jerk.
Then I try to make it up to life by doing what I can to cultivate enjoyment, showing life that I’m appreciative of the effort it must have taken to create all this. I have a lot to make up for.