I used to think what separates the well from the afflicted is luck. But now I know it’s not that some people never stumble, never get sick, never hurt themselves, never get hurt by others. What separates the well from the afflicted is that the well never stop looking for the cure.

And additionally the well don’t look for one, magical, easy cure. They look for a million tiny ones, so that even if a day is a 99% failure, they’re guaranteed a 1% win.

I never forget the grace upon grace of getting to live in a place like this. But still and of course, I spend a lot of my life in that 1%. And its become important to me to cast aside the composition of something idyllic, and in its place own a more authentic reality. Mining life for every tiny cure, and stringing them together like a strand of paper lanterns in the dark.

Some of my recent tiny cures:

– My band of neighborhood elk, especially when they appeared at my bedroom window when I was sick, as if offering me their resilience and companionship
– The first breath of Teton air when stepping outside at night, crisp and endless
– Starting a fire on the first try
– When the sun comes out at 4 pm, just in time for me to walk on the river
– Finding two allergy friendly butternut squash soups at town eateries
– Getting a good horoscope in the Jackson Hole Daily
– When the little local bookstore has exactly one copy of the book I’m looking for
– When I learn something new at yoga
– Winter days warm enough to sit on a bench outside and talk on the phone for 2 hours
– When my clothes smell like my little pine dresser, and remind me how much I used to cherish that smell unpacking from a vacation here

Moment of Gratitude: So live pridefully in the 1%.  Because maybe when we add up all the tiny cures, they’re not so tiny after all.