As I left dinner Saturday, it was about an hour before sunset. There had been a brief rainstorm, but there was a sudden break in the clouds — and the sunlight danced over the glistening world around me.
In the wet sparkle of water and light, the colors were vivid and everything was beautiful, like a triumphant scene from a movie. The world around me felt gorgeous and perfect. In those moments, I was in love with this life on Earth.
And then my attention shifted to some rude and uncouth people near me. I looked over in the car seat next to me and saw the mail from the IRS which arrived Friday, demanding that I pay another $300. And I thought of walking into the house right after opening the letter — and finding Molly dead.
In that moment, life felt unhappy and solitary. It felt miserable.
As I drove toward home, I found myself trying to resolve the extremes which I had just felt. Is this world a lonely and miserable place that’s our personal hell? Or is it a beautiful and amazing place of ecstasy that’s a personal paradise.
And in a blinding flash, I realized that it’s both — and I realized it can’t be paradise unless we’ve also experienced it as a hell.

Happiness and success elude me unless I’m doing something I love
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