Failure rips through me like heart burn. It is the spice of life, the painful devouring of positivity. I know I am successful when all is calm, when peace decends. When I am not in a state of denial or avoidance. When I can acknowledge how things are going, without that stiffening and urge to hide under something.
If failure is a spice that burns, success is a perfect mug of tea. A sweet mug of honeyed, milky vanilla tea. It soothes and warms like an unexpected hug. A delicious settling of positive outcome. Breath that in, rest easy, in the warm knowing that you have done good.