What’s the difference between days? No, I don’t mean Monday/Tuesday-different, I mean the mood that visits them.

When one day is virtually identical to the next in many ways—the time one wakes, the feel of the bed, the light in the sky, the routines of the morning, the prospects ahead—how is it that one day feels so much different than the one that went before it?

Oh sure, the answer is obvious. Yet it isn’t. Mood, sure. The chemistries of the body. The barometric pressure. The ions stirred up by the wind. What we had for supper last night. The residual kick of a megavitamin. Who knows?

The critters sense a difference: In a house that is essentially the same from day to day, one day they are calm, on another they are restless, on another they’re sleeping all over me as if protecting me from spirits. How do we explain that?

Easy enough to tell ourselves that we summon our moods to us; that we have the power to change them. A tougher thing, to sit in wonder at the Is that is and observe it with a will to nothing less than to let be. It is a verboten self-indulgence to do so. It is a luxury and a curiosity. It is both silly and profound even to wonder about it.

But why, exactly, we are closer to the Universe on some days than on others…why there are days (and I’m not quite there) that the veils are peeled away…you got me. I am powerless to make it happen—it happens when it will. If I knew how to work it, I’d have finished this book by now.

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