Things rarely turn out the way I expect them to. Unfortunately, this often means things aren't turning out the way I want them to, which hurts. This is part of dukka, the dissatisfaction and discomfort of existence. I gain, I lose, I celebrate, I suffer, I yearn, I grieve. The key to equanimity isn't to try and stop these feelings and experiences--that would be like trying to stop the waves from breaking against the shore. The key is to accept them, observe them without judgement. Sometimes that's easy. Most of the time it's not. But that's okay--you get to observe that, too.
That is what I am doing today: observing how deeply I want to control my feelings. Observing how easy it is to sink into negativity, and how assuming the worst about a situation is an attempt to protect myself.
People like to say that when God closes a door, she opens a window. But the truth is that doors and windows don't exist. They are made up of our expectations. They are the paths and opportunities we envision for our futures. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. But every so often I get to the point where it feels like God has locked the door and thrown away the key. When that happens, it helps to remember that there are no windows--there doesn't need to be, because there are no walls. There is only the vast open expanse of here. The infinity of now.