Freedom - Part 2

Last week, I wrote about the freedom that comes from doing the things we know we need to do — without waiting for motivation, inspiration, or the right celestial bodies to align. (Read Part 1 here.)

But what if there were a shortcut to all that repetition and to listening to the whiny voice in your head?

I know that:

1. There is always a shortcut 2. I need to figure out whether the shortcut is worth the payoff 3. The shortcuts I eventually pick are always worth the payoff

Let's start with the problem: There is a thing you need to do, but you don't want to do it. There is endless negotiation and, quite frankly, you can't be bothered.

Let's take being a vegetarian. The plan is to save all the animals from a terrible fate. Good plan. Problem is, you really like chicken wings.

The just-do-it over and over again will work. Eventually, you will get there. But it might be like Sisyphus and the boulder. Exhausting.

The shortcut? To choose to be happy about it.

I live in London now. I can complain about the weather, or use it as an excuse to buy all manner of rain gear: large yellow golf umbrella, funky wellies, even a borg-lined raincoat.

And every day I get to use my fantastic umbrella, I am grateful that I live in London and even for the rain. I have this strange joy in this truly "miserable" weather.

"When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change." (Wayne Dyer)

This is the trick — and it works. Every time.

It works because, by operating in this way, you unblock the part of yourself responsible for joy. And when that joy is present, going to the gym, ferrying the kids around, and even cleaning the drains, don't feel like a chore. You're just happy and you do these things happily.

You don't need the rain to stop. You don't even need to pretend you like rain.

You just need to find a way to enjoy it.

I get to take my oldest to her D of E expedition — and spend time with the teenager who is usually in her room. I get to write patient reports — because someone has trusted me to make sense of what's happening to them. I get to live in glorious London — even with the rain.

Nothing has changed, except the person doing it — and that's the shortcut.

Not avoiding the thing, not finding some clever way around it, not waiting until you magically become the sort of person who enjoys doing everything that's good for them.

You make a decision to be happy.

So don't spend all that energy wishing the rain would stop. Go and buy a ridiculously large yellow umbrella.

Either way, it's still raining.