Hardly Working

I don’t believe in the value of hard-work. If I have to work hard for something, then frankly, I don’t want it. A gift is something received without expectation of payment. To me, everything in this life is a gift. I didn’t work hard to be born, it just happened. I didn’t work hard to grow up, I just got bigger. I don’t work hard for the things I have, I just do whatever comes naturally.

Working hard implies a sense of struggle: there’s a chance my efforts won’t pan out or maybe I don’t like what I’m doing. Nope. I do what I want and my effort is never wasted. But don’t external forces oftentimes prevent us from doing what we want to do? Well, either I do what I want, or I sit frustrated until circumstances change, or I accept the limitations.

There’s no compromise, I’m not delaying gratification for future gain. Whatever I’m doing now is what I want to be doing. In other words, if I’m doing something, I’ve committed whole-heatedly to it. It’s not required, I want to do it — it’s not work, it’s play. And in that sense, there’s nothing “hard” about it.

I simply don’t want to live in a world that requires me to struggle for survival. If stress and strain are necessary conditions, then this place is not worth my time. And think of it this way: if this is truly a gift, what a rude response to try and repay the giver. So I will partake of this present with full appreciation, thank you very much.

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