As you know, a good life is merely a succession of good days. A day is to a life as a sentence is to a story. The sane person will write into his or her day numerous passages that are innately pleasing. The morning constitutional; the garden reverie; the long soak in the tub; the bowl of ice cream with so many calories they have to be calculated with scientific notation. Many a day I find myself grinding away at work, lamenting a life in the cubicle, feeling trapped, wishing for some little spark of happiness, when suddenly I’ll realize I’m just one good cup of coffee away from being a Master of the Universe. Chemistry is the answer! You just have to find the right combination of molecules. Didn’t I read that once in a Dale Carnegie book? When in doubt, ingest something.
My advice is to always be yourself, your true self, your authentic self, even if that means being the kind of person who pretends to be someone else. Sometimes authenticity is just a costume we wear. It would be disingenuous to go through an entire day without trying to fool everyone. As an experiment you could spend an entire day speaking like Donald Duck, saying the same thing over and over: “This is who I am.”
In searching for these pleasurable mini-moments, you need to stay alert, eyes open, observing, being patient, letting the moment come to you. When that happens you have to let it unfold and flower. You must own the moment and can’t let other people distract you from it or tell you that it’s somehow not as good as THEIR silly little moment. Alternatively, you can manufacture a sublime moment from scratch, for example by stealing something. I’m not recommending this, just saying it can be done, that sometimes theft has its rewards, particularly if you have plausible deniability. Condiments at the coffee shop and the sandwich shop — they leave them out for anyone to take!!!
Yesterday I found in my left blazer pocket a packet of Sugar In the Raw heisted from Starbucks, and I thought: Come what may, I got this going for me. That was a nice moment, here in the land of cubicles.