No, I'm not talking about bowel function for once...

Instead, I'm reading a book titled "The Geography of Bliss" by Eric Weiner that is simultaneously amusing and fascinating. The basic premise of the book is that author travels around the world to see how different countries find happiness. On his visit to Iceland, Weiner gets talking about how unhappy experiences are relevant to happy ones, especially in terms of art/writing/etc.

Crap plays an important role in the art world. In fact, it plays exactly the same role as it does in the farming world. It's fertilizer. The crap allows the good stuff to grow. You can't have one without the other. Now, to be sure, you don't want to see crap framed at an art gallery, any more than you want to see a pound of fertilizer sitting in the produce section of your local grocery store. But still, crap is important.

Crap, really, is important to life. I didn't start to deal with my anxiety and food and depression issues until they turned from a slightly sour bottle of milk that you could push to the back of the fridge and ignore to a grand, stinking compost heap. We all have these compost heaps in our lives. It's a matter of deciding whether you're going to let them sit there and attract rats, or use them to fertilize your life.

It's not about making the crap "worth it," because, hey, it's crap. It's about taking something that would otherwise go to waste (ie, the really bad times) and using it to help grow the good.