I have this theory. If you're going to live in gratitude, where you really take the time to appreciate this existence, you have to strive for some sense of satisfaction. Don't get me wrong, part of being human is allowing for the opportunity to make some home improvements on the old psyche.
I'm not saying that trying to "do you" isn't an incredibly rewarding and positive process. What I'm saying is that we... I... all of us can't really grasp the innate beauty of life if we are unable to find ourselves satisfied with the one we're currently living.
I'll be the first to admit that sometimes I tend to feel a little sorry for myself. This is also perfectly human. Sometimes I have to remind myself to put my little bummers in the grand scheme of everything that's happening. I need perspective.
I've realized that in fixating on a particular issue, I'm ignoring this superb state of being, this fantastic world, in which I actively participate. Because even though I have this nagging little demon doing jumping jacks in my brain and poking little demon-y fingers at the back of my eyeballs (though that could be allergies), I have an innumerable number of "somethings" on which to focus my gratitude.
The sun might shine. A breeze might blow. I may spend time with the people I love, and think about some others. Maybe I'll make some music. I'll write. I'll get a hardy helping of daily nutrients in the form of something delicious. And, all of that, the little things I do today or any day, are enough to remind me that I'm satisfied with my own private version of weird and wonderful living.
So, have I squashed my disappointment like the big blue bug it is? Not entirely. But in admitting that I'm letting it wreck my overall sensation of appreciation, my "must love" approach to breathing, I can at least feel like I'm getting somewhere. And movement in any direction is always something to be grateful for.