It is not possible for you to follow the trail of blessings any more than it is to follow the trail of what you interpret as non-blessing. It is simpler and better to just accept all as blessing. Simpler and better to simply change your concept of blessing. Change your definition. Consider all happenings as blessings. Make no discrimination. When you fall down, let it be as great a blessing as when you rise.
There is much that does not resemble blessing to you, but that is because you are so involved with yourself as person more than Being. If you had not body and those you love did not have bodies and those you do not love did not have bodies, you would see from another vantage altogether. All the snags you presently see would not be there. All the accumulations of thought would not be there. All the impressions, all the preferred and all the unpreferred would not be there. What difference would anything make when you are aware of your immersion in the Absolute? What difference would anything make when you see the Big Picture? And what is the Big Picture that you would see?
You would see how everything fits, not later, but now. You would see ephemerality for what it is. You would no longer expect the ephemeral to be eternal. You would know Eternal better than you know the palm of your hand. You would be immersed in Oneness from which there is no distance and no dispersal and no absent-mindedness. There would be no imagined departure from Oneness. There would be no difference in anything. Nothing would matter. You would see matter as nothing. You would see that the physical was some kind of fantastic measure through which to see the Absolute. It was a nonexistent yardstick that you held up.
In physical life, you see contrast and you see comparison. You see a line between Earth and Heaven where there is none, but you see it. You see Many-ness when there is only Oneness. And, let's face it, you enjoy the Manyness. Don't be embarrassed that you do. You enjoy the soap operas and the mysteries and the comedies and all the short stories. You enjoy the fiction, and why not? What is it there for but to be enjoyed?
You ride by life as a passenger in a train that watches the scenery of life, and the passenger projects himself into the scenery he passes by. His fingers cannot touch the fence posts he sees, but he sees himself there nevertheless. He sees other fictions of himself, and he forgets that he is on a train passing through the terrain but not of it.
He likes being in the middle of things. He likes the action of believing he is a mere Human Being. I capitalize Human Being but he writes it with small letters because he doesn't quite accept that he is Divine Being. He has been looking out the train window so much, he doesn't seem himself. He merely sees his reflection in the window and he merely sees his reflection through and beyond the window and he doesn't see himself. He doesn't know that he is merely looking upon something. He thinks he is truly an actor there, and he plays his part to the hilt.
And he is so engaged with the drama that he forgets the Designer of it all, he forgets he is watcher, he thinks he is activist, he thinks he is living that which he only sees from his eyes, he forgets he is behind his eyes, he forgets he is more than what he sees, he forgets in order to remember.