Good Life Project - Annoyed or Blessed? It’s a Matter of Choice

Episode Date: December 22, 2016

What if the “perceived imperfections, quirks or annoyances” that triggered you in other people were the very same things that, viewed differently, reminded you how blessed you were (and how great they were)? Today’s GLP Riff about a simple idea, a realization that so much of what bothers us in life is actually the very […]The post Annoyed or Blessed? It’s a Matter of Choice appeared first on Good LifeProject. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hey, it's Jonathan. One of the things that I've learned over the years is that a pretty significant part of our community are what I call conscious entrepreneurs. And what I mean by that is, it's folks who are founders, and that could be of business and organization, foundation, private practice, anything like that, that have three things in common. One is that you serve a genuine need. You really solve a problem and you deliver that and get paid for it. And so solving a problem and generating real profit is important to you. The second is that what you create actually serves as a true vehicle for the expression of your strengths, your values and beliefs and your voice. So it lets you step into your fullest potential. And the third is that there's something bigger happening here. You're part of something bigger, and you're serving some bigger need. And that's what I call a conscious business.

And we've created all sorts of experiences, programs, courses over the years designed to serve conscious business founders in a variety of ways. And amazing things have happened. We put pretty much everything on hiatus this year because we wanted to really deconstruct what we were doing and figure out how to bring more people together to serve them on a higher level. Because what we found is that not only do people need information and great advice and strategy and support, but there's a tremendous amount of isolation and loneliness for so many people who are in the business of founding conscious businesses. And we want to create a

true community. So we've been at work at this for the better part of the year. And I'm really excited to share that we are now live with this really powerful new experience. It's called the 108, and it is a conscious business collective. And if you want to know what that's all about, if you want to figure out whether it's in any way something that would be interesting for you, then you can either just click on the link in the show notes, or just head on over to goodlifeproject.com slash the 108. That's T-H-E and then the number 108. Check it out. See if it feels right to you. If it does, then awesome. And if not, then thank you for listening. Hey, it's Jonathan back with a Good Life Project riff for you. Today's is called Annoyed or Blessed? You Choose. And this

is actually an adaptation of a short essay that I wrote a chunk of years back. So I was watching Good Will Hunting with my wife the other night, and there was a part where Robin Williams' character, a worn out, sharp-witted, yet deeply intuitive and loving therapist named Sean. He's counseling the brilliant yet emotionally withdrawn Will Hunting. Sean's wife, we learned, passed two years earlier after an extended bout with cancer. And the following exchange ensues. Sean says, my wife used to fart when she was nervous she had all sorts of wonderful little idiosyncrasies she used to fart in her sleep i thought i'd share that with you one night it was so loud it woke the dog she woke up and went ah was that you and i didn't have the heart to tell her oh and will

responds she woke herself up and both characters begin to laugh uncontrollably. And it calms down and then Sean looks at Will and says, Ah, but Will, she's been dead for two years. And that's the shit I remember. Wonderful stuff, you know. Little things like that. Those are the things I miss most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I know about. That's what made her my wife. Oh, she had the goods on me, too. She knew all my little piccadillos. People call these things imperfections, but they're not. Ah, what's left of it. A scene that's been repeated upon an ebb and flow of

tattered couches along a winding road of apartments over the last nearly 25 years now. And as I lay there, I realized just how true William's line was. People call these things imperfections, but they're not. Ah, that's the good stuff. Thing is, most of us don't realize that rather than stowing away the foibles, eccentricities, and quirks of those closest to us as mounting ammunition for a fight yet to come, we have the choice to embrace them instead as signposts of how fortunate we are. So in my home, I'm outnumbered two to one. Every doorknob is adorned on some level with a growing collection of hair bands, scrunchies, hair ties,

tiebacks, twirly things, clips, twists, and more. It's a habit of convenience, I think. You never have to go far to find just the right hair management machinery. And for years, this used to bug me, like the toothpaste cap from the sitcoms. I'd get so annoyed. What's so difficult about taking the extra two seconds to put these things in a drawer somewhere? I remember a moment filled with pink and lavender striped hairband rage. I just couldn't take it anymore. Something had to be done. Nothing less than my manliness, my sense of respect and order was at stake, which is why I found it so odd to be laughing at my own

lunacy just seconds later. Because what had to be done was for me to stop being such a rigid ass, to take a deep breath and choose to look at this heinous adverse possession of doorknob real estate in another light. All around me, on every door, was a reminder, tangible, visible proof that I am not alone, that I am loved, that I have two beautiful women, my wife and daughter, to come home to every day, to play with in the mornings, and to lie with half asleep, drifting in and out of consciousness as we all watch TV together on the couch on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Instead of seeing this simple idiosyncrasy as some form of disrespect, laziness, insult or injury,

in that moment and with every glance at a fabric-laden doorknob since, I saw only proof that I am blessed. And though my daughter is only 15 now, I already dread the day I return home from that long car ride back from her first day at college, only to find the doorknobs woefully unadorned. Robin Williams' character was so right. People call these things imperfections, but they're not. Ah, that's the good stuff. If only we'd awaken to the notion that at any given time,

we can choose to view them as such. So that's today's short and sweet riff. Something to think about. How we choose to view those little things. It makes all the difference in the world. It makes all the difference in every moment. It makes our lives. I'm Jonathan Fields, signing off for Good Life Project.