The other day at ecstatic dance (a sober dance event with a DJ that’s about moving how you feel) I overheard someone telling his friend that he loves it, but stopped coming for a while. He said, “sometimes I deny myself the things that bring me the most joy.”

YES! WHY DO WE DO THAT?! Why do we resist things that feel good?

There’s the classic, “I always feel better after a workout, but I struggle to get to the gym.” This makes sense. Exercise is hard. But what about things with a lower barrier to entry that JUST FEEL GOOD?

Newton’s Law of Inertia says that an object at rest tends to stay at rest. (And an object in motion tends to stay in motion.) I think this explains why in the gym scenario, it helps to get up and put your shoes on. Now we’re in motion. 

The exact wording on Wikipedia is: “Every body continues in its state of rest…unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed upon it.” 

There has to be a significant enough force to change states. 

Okay. We want joy. Why isn’t that enough? Psychological inertia? If we’re sad, or bored, or numb, or angry, it takes a significant force to shift into something else. An object that’s sad tends to…stay sad?

Maybe there’s also fear - “what if it doesn’t work?” From inside an emotion, it seems like whatever’s happening will continue. 

Okay. Let’s introduce a force.

Maybe we go for something quick and dirty. Low barrier to entry, a guaranteed fix. Like the raw cookie dough my partner keeps buying even though I tell him not to because I don’t have the force to resist eating it. It doesn’t make me feel good long-term (or even medium-term), but it’s definitely going to taste good right now.

Sometimes cheap joy get us in motion and reminds us that the other kind of joy is possible. But usually, I just eat the cookie dough and feel gross.

I know that. You know that. So let’s address an opposing force at play here: self-sabotage. We all have an inner “fuck you.” A shadow. A little devil on our shoulder that wants to fuck shit up.

We want to feel good; our brain knows that cookie dough (or your cheap joy of choice) requires minimum force.

Then in comes the little devil saying, “you already feel like trash, eat the cookie dough.” An object that feels like trash tends to stay feeling like trash. 

Underneath the desire to feel good, we also have a trash feeling. The part of us holding onto guilt and shame. The part of us harboring a secret feeling that we don’t deserve happiness. That we’re the one person joy won’t work on. That we’re insignificant and bad and it doesn’t matter anyway. 

Mr. “fuck you” can use this internal inertia to strengthen his case. Then it takes even more force to overcome.

But the good news is, if we stay and dig deeper, underneath the trash feeling, there is an even deeper desire for everyone, including us, to be happy and at peace. Like an emotion sandwich: desire to be happy, desire to be sad, desire to be happy.

If we can tap into that, knowing we’re up against inertia, we have a better chance of mustering the required force to get back in motion.

An object dancing tends to stay dancing.

Right now, everything smells like smoke after a much needed smudging of the apartment. 

(If you’ve never burned sage to clear the vibes and don’t know what I’m talking about, hit me up and I will share this magic with you.)

Traveling for 44 days, I was without my toolkit for so long, I’d forgotten what a difference it makes. 

A room that felt heavy and sad five minutes ago (and a me that matched) now feels light and bright.

When I go back to Mexico in a couple days, I will not forget my essentials. Tarot cards, something to burn, a crystal or two, and my new Laughing Buddha.

I bought this little statue in Philadelphia Chinatown. He is shiny, warm gold, with the trim on his robe and his lips painted red. He has a big smile, a big round belly, and is carrying an overflowing basket of treasures.

When I saw him, I knew this was an energy I was missing.

I consider myself a minimalist (and a recovering control freak). I truly believe less is more, and that a simpler, less cluttered life, is a freer, more alive one. The more you have, the more you have to spend time, money and energy caring for. For example, I just cut all my hair off. I am no longer pouring my energy into it, worrying about how it looks, maintaining it and feeling the weight of it on my head.

I love living this way. There’s room for the people and things I really care about.

But this energy, too, can be out of balance. I’ve leaned a little too far in this direction. Pouring too much energy into stripping away and letting go.

Minimalism alone doesn’t force you to focus on what matters. You also have to let yourself enjoy the fruits. That’s what MAGNETIZES you to juicy, abundant deliciousness.

Being depressed for most of my life, growing up with money I didn’t earn, I didn’t feel like I deserved joy or richness. I was desperate to evict myself from entitlement, and ended up with deep unworthiness.

I was so afraid to be the excessiveness around me, I made myself excessively small.

But my Laughing Buddha isn’t worried about being too much, or having too much, or…anything. He’s just full. He radiates joy and abundance, and shares it generously.

That’s what I want. To be so full as to be effortlessly generous. Not to be empty because I’m afraid.

Thank you, little Buddha, for reminding me to be GOLD. Now, get in my backpack, we’re going to Mexico.