There Is No Easy Way

A Culture of Quick Fixes

There is no easy way.

In a society accustomed to instant gratification, we’ve become deeply interested in quick fixes. We want solutions now. We want relief without discomfort. More than that, we want to optimize life — to streamline it, hack it, make it smoother and more efficient.

A culture trained on instant gratification starts craving shortcuts, hacks, and optimizations… even for things that were never meant to be rushed or “fixed.” And the tension between doing the real work versus finding the fastest relief feels especially sharp in motherhood and in our inner lives.

What the Body Knows

This morning, I went on my usual run along a nature trail — but today it was covered in four inches of snow. The added element made it incredibly hard. Each step required more effort, more attention, more resolve.

Somewhere in the middle of that run, it clicked.

This is what doing the right thing often feels like.

We know we need to move our bodies to be healthy. There’s no shortcut around that truth. You have to wake up, again and again, and put in the effort. If you don’t, there are consequences — not immediately, maybe not loudly, but eventually. There are no magic pills that replace movement. No hack that keeps the body strong without friction.

And yet, it’s human nature to look for the easiest solution — the path with the least resistance. That instinct doesn’t make you weak or lazy. It makes you human. All of humankind is wired this way.

The Temptation to Bypass the Work

Knowing this, we start searching for hacks. For shortcuts. For ways around the discomfort. And sure — there are tools, tricks, and workarounds.

But the real question is: are they actually worth it?

Is the reason something is hard because it’s wrong… or because it matters?

Nature and the Long Season

Nature seems to understand this better than we do.

My favorite parts of the year are the beginnings of each season. There’s relief in them. After a long, heavy summer, fall feels like an exhale. And the first snow of winter is magical — maybe even the first few.

But then… winter stretches on.

Nature doesn’t rush through it. It doesn’t try to optimize its way out. There’s no shortcut to spring. There are long, hard seasons — and then, eventually, relief.

The work happens inside the season.

Earned Relief

The harder you work, the sweeter the relief.

After a cold run in the snow — lungs burning, legs heavy — the warm shower feels almost sacred. Heat on tired muscles. Endorphins flooding the body. It’s not just relief. It’s earned.

The same is true in birth.

After a long pregnancy, that final push brings a relief that’s indescribable. And then comes the newborn phase. The first time, it’s disorienting — beautiful and overwhelming all at once. But by the second newborn, there’s a different kind of bliss. A trust rooted in experience. You know your body. You know the rhythm. You know that you will survive the hard parts because you already have.

Trusting the Process

That’s the point, I think.

Trusting the process.
Trusting the cycle.
Trusting the season.

Nature already knows this. Our bodies know it too. Winter doesn’t apologize for lasting. Pregnancy doesn’t rush itself. Healing unfolds in its own time — quietly, imperfectly, but faithfully.

Your body will heal.
Your heart will heal.

And working on yourself — even when it’s slow, even when it’s uncomfortable — will always result in something meaningful. Not optimized. Not hacked. But earned. And because of that, deeply real.

Choosing What Deserves Your Effort

Because if doing what matters is hard — and it is — then learning what truly matters becomes essential.

We only have so much energy. So much capacity to endure, to show up, to stay present through the long seasons. When everything feels important, everything becomes exhausting. But when you’re clear on your core values, your effort has a direction. Your energy stops scattering and starts aligning.

Meaningful work will always ask something of you. Growth will always carry friction. But when your actions are rooted in what you value most — your health, your family, your inner life — the effort feels purposeful instead of draining.

Hard doesn’t disappear… but it starts to make sense.