I’m not talking about “throw your hands up to Jesus” faith. You can have that or not, I don’t really care—that’s up to you.
I’m talking about faith in yourself. In the person next to you. In your loved ones. In what you’re doing here. In your life.
Faith that if things are bad, they’ll get better. Faith that if you work hard, dreams will come true. Faith that love is out there, waiting for you in so many ways—you just have to open your eyes.
You look over your shoulder all the time. You expect the worse. You prepare for the letdown. And so the dark dreams come to pass. Your life feels hollow and dry and interspersed only with random points of happiness. Joy eludes you and seems always to sit in other people’s pockets.
The kettlebell is too much, the pull-up bar is too high, there are too many muscle-ups in the workout. You’re not a gymnast after all, right?
You can feel this way.You can be this way. It’s probably valid.
Life isn’t perfect.
- The bar is heavy, but I’m going to lift it.
- The pull-up bar is too high, but I can get there.
- The other guy got this promotion, but I’m getting the next one.
- That spot on the x-ray? F**k it: I can beat that.
- She left me? Yeah, there are other fish in the sea.
I‘m here. I’m strong. And I’m not going anywhere. I got faith.
Your life. Your choice. Your ending is happy or sad, your life is happy or sad, your day is happy or sad — depending not on the circumstances in it, but on how you view things.
So don’t come to me with your stories of woe. Don’t come to me with your self-pity and your Poor Me Syndrome. Come to me with your victories of the spirit, with your smiles and joy. Same breeds same.
With every breath and every thought, you decide what you want more of.