I was so frustrated.
I was trying to book a flight for my brother from Nice to Los Angeles.
He was coming to Provence for a visit — for our middle brother’s birthday — and while we’d arranged his flight here, we hadn’t yet booked the flight home. As the date got closer, I started to feel that anxious time-pressure voice: “You need to figure this out now.”
So, in a fit of stress, I sat down to look at flights. I opened airline sites, scanned dates, flipped through tabs. Within minutes, I caught myself thinking: “I feel bad now. This isn’t the time.”
I closed the phone. Walked away.
But like a clever hunter, the stress circled back.
Late that night, sitting in bed, I thought: “I’ll just take care of this before sleep.”
Wrong move, buddy.
I swiped through the tabs I’d opened earlier and locked on a flight that looked familiar. Without slowing down, I bought it.
Screenshot. Sent it to my brother in LA.
And then, staring at the screenshot, my stomach dropped.
I’d booked the wrong dates. His return flight cut his trip short by three whole days. He’d overlap in Provence for less than 24 hours with the brother whose birthday we were gathering to celebrate.
I felt so dumb.
The spiral began:
“How could you miss that detail?”
“They’ll never let you refund it.”
“Why do you keep wasting money like this? Careless. Stupid.”
My chest got tight. Thoughts spun faster. I knew “feel good now” was supposed to be the answer, but it felt like a runaway train.
Bless my partner — she suggested I check for a refund anyway. I grumbled, convinced it was hopeless. But I looked. And there it was: 24-hour cancellation, no fee.
Saved… or so I thought.
Because even with that little relief, the stress-pattern was still running. My inner voice said: “Just get this over with.”
So I dragged myself out of bed, opened the laptop, found another flight, triple-checked the dates, entered my card, hit purchase.
Finally. Done.
Except the next morning, I woke up to an email: “Your credit card denied the transaction. Please try again.”
And here came the spiral again.
“This is like banging my head against a wall.”
“Why is the universe fighting me on this?”
“What am I doing wrong?”
And of course, once the mind starts, it doesn’t stop with flights. Suddenly it’s dredging up every other worry it can find: writing career, health, finances, relationships.
That’s the power of focus — what we focus on expands.
But then I remembered the second commandment of bliss: Thou Shalt Dwell in the Imaginal Palace.
I asked myself: If I had a trillion dollars and hundreds of helpers, how would I feel about this?
The answer came instantly: This is nothing. A minor inconvenience. It’ll resolve easily. In ten years, the only thing I’ll remember is how amazing it was to celebrate my brother’s birthday in Provence.
Relief. My chest softened.
Then I remembered the sixth commandment of bliss: Thou Shalt Speak Only from the Dream.
So I chose to speak and act from the timeline where everything had already worked out.
And in that timeline, I even realized: “This is a perfect story to write about.”
A real-life case study of how stress spirals when I ignore my own advice — and how quickly things change when I return to feeling good now.
You’re reading the result.
And wouldn’t you know it? When I fixed my billing address, the flight went through easily. Blair from the booking agency even sent me a kind, supportive email offering help.
What did I learn?
Feeling bad now doesn’t work. It just spirals into more stress.
Feeling good now does work. It opens up solutions, opportunities, and ease.
From now on, action will always be preceded by feeling good.
Especially when it feels urgent.
Because feeling good first is always the better way.
Feel good now.
It really works.
— Jack
P.S. If you want to know all 10 rules I follow to feel good every day — and align with the frequency of my dream timeline? Download The 10 Commandments of Bliss. It’s free, short and full of light.