I live every day as if it were my first – and the results surprised me | Emma Beddington

RBy putting ways to promote joy last week (I know, most of us would be content to wake up without fear of persistent, but why not dream from time to time?), I was captivated by the memorist and survivor of Suleika Jaouad cancer, live every day as if it was your first. When Jaouad’s leukemia returned last year, sympathizers urged her to live every day as if it was his last, but the pressure of carp Every second of each damn diem let her feel panicked and exhausted. Instead, she cultivated a feeling of curiosity and freshly hatched play, which she said helped.

I loved this, but I doubted the feasibility – can you really convince your tired and cynical self to feel a joyful astonishment? I tried to live yesterday as if it was my first; Not like a real newborn (with a red face, which cries frequently, completely incompetent – I am already all that), but with a childhood wonder. I managed to be captivated by my banana breakfast – excellent design and color – and even more with the magic elixir that does not make me hate everyone (coffee).

Then, I opened the mailbox with Christmas storage anticipation levels: the card of a window cleaner and an HMRC letter on the manufacturing of digital tax! After lunch, confronted with our dishwasher to open each time I try to close it, I tried to cultivate curiosity rather than rage: does this useful wonder have its reasons? What could they be? I was not wiser but slightly quieter.

Living a dental hygienist meeting as if it was my first proven more difficult: my body remembered that it was not my first hook and humiliation rodeo, whatever my brain has tried to say it. But a feeling of playful discovery helped, in a way. I distracted myself in advance, passing through an astonishment with wide -eyed eyes through work heads in the brochure of the waiting room. Then, on the chair, I went, childish, to the strangeness carrying cold gravelly stuff making my molars explode, my tongue which is accidentally sucked in the spit and what I chose to say was the “intensely interesting sensation” of the elimination of the manual plate.

I would not call it a joy, exactly, but it was absolutely less an ordeal. Jaouad is right: a feeling of wonder can be, well, wonderful.