You can't enjoy a life you don't work your ass off for.
Period.
The movies, the ones that show the women who shop and lunch and waft around beautifully decorated homes, gingery running a manicured finger across freshly dusted wood tables, those movies are fantasies. The worst part? The fantasy not only isn't real, but our pursuit of it or belief that it even exists is causing us untold restlessness, unhappiness and discontent.
That's really it...discontent. The belief that if only we didn't have to work so hard, if only we could relax and enjoy the fruits of our labor, we would be happy.
But we seem to want to enjoy the fruits of our non-labor.
The enjoying part, we seem to misunderstand, is a small sliver of the pie. It's tiny in comparison to the amount of work we must do to eek out those moments of joy. The rest of the time, the best we can hope for is that the work we're doing brings us some measure of comfort, satisfaction and, if we're lucky, stimulation. But to think that we could possibly enjoy life without heaping doses of hard work?
Where did we buy that load of crazy?
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