I like comfort. I like good food, drink, and relaxation.
Most of the time I feel like I’d have no problem doing nothing.
But there’s no substitute for purpose. Doing hard shit is the persistent, dogged, explorer in all of us. And I’m not sure there’s any substitute for flexing that muscle either.
One of my self-critiques is that I don’t have the discipline to stick to tough goals. One brief scan of who I am and what I do, and it becomes clear that’s not entirely true. But I do think there is value in developing perseverance.
At the end of the day, will we let ourselves stop short when it gets really hard or will we conquer the midgets in our mind that tell us stopping is OK?
We can’t overuse practicality to buffer doing the hard shit that gives us purpose, engages a better version of ourselves and ultimately creates ripple effects of can-do.
We shouldn’t avoid doing hard shit because it gets uncomfortable sometimes.
Doing hard shit is a privilege.
Hard shit proves WE can do it.