If You Can Find Joy Pulling Weeds, Imagine What Else You’ve Been Missing
Enjoy the Process Series
Nobody wakes up on Saturday morning thinking:
You know what would make today incredible? Pulling weeds.
And yet, that may be exactly why pulling weeds is such a good lesson in joy.
Because it's ordinary.
Repetitive.
Usually something we look outside, notice needs to be done, and immediately add to the mental category of chores I need to get through.
But what if you didn't?
What if you walked outside with an entirely different intention?
I'm going to enjoy this.
It sounds almost too simple.
But that decision can change far more than the weeds.
You’ve Already Started the Experience Before You Begin
Think about what happens when you look outside and see a garden that needs attention.
Ugh, look at all those weeds.
I really don't feel like doing this.
This is going to take forever.
I need to get this over with.
You haven't even put on your gardening gloves yet, and you've already told yourself exactly what kind of afternoon you're going to have.
An unpleasant one.
We do this constantly.
We don't simply experience what we're doing. We narrate it while we're doing it.
And that internal conversation matters.
So what happens if you deliberately change the conversation?
I'm going outside for a while.
It feels beautiful out here.
I'm going to have some fun with this.
Let's see what I find.
I'm going to enjoy the process.
Same garden.
Same weeds.
Very different beginning.
Make the Weeds Interesting
Once you stop thinking of weeds simply as things that need to disappear, they can become surprisingly entertaining.
Look at them.
Really look at them.
They're weird.
Some are tiny and delicate. Others seem determined to take ownership of your entire yard. Some have flowers. Some have thorns. Some have roots so enormous you can't believe they were hiding underneath that little plant.
Which one has the longest root?
Which is the strangest?
Can you pull that giant one out with the entire root intact?
What's the smallest weed you can find?
Which one seems to have traveled halfway across the yard overnight?
Suddenly you're not simply pulling weeds.
You're investigating.
You're hunting.
You're playing.
Give yourself a ridiculous challenge.
Let's see how many I can pull before this song ends.
Try to get ten perfect roots in a row.
Find the most outrageous weed in the garden.
None of this is important.
And that's exactly what makes it fun.
Adults have a remarkable tendency to remove play from things simply because we're old enough to call them chores.
Put some of it back.
Look Up From the Weeds
And while you're down there searching for your next victim, something else starts happening.
You notice where you are.
Maybe the roses are blooming.
Maybe a hummingbird suddenly appears.
A butterfly lands nearby.
There's a tiny iridescent bug crawling across a leaf that you've never noticed before.
The breeze moves through the trees.
You smell the soil.
You feel the warmth of the sun on your shoulders.
Maybe you stop for a minute just to admire the yard you've been working so hard to improve.
These things were there whether you noticed them or not.
But now you're not racing past them because you've decided the only purpose of this hour is to finish pulling weeds.
You're letting yourself enjoy where the task has taken you.
Talk Yourself Into Enjoying It
We talk ourselves out of enjoyment all the time.
I hate yard work.
I'm so tired of doing this.
Look how much I still have left.
I'll be happy when I'm finished.
Say those things repeatedly and, unsurprisingly, you're probably not going to have a wonderful afternoon.
So try something else.
This actually feels pretty good.
Look how much better that area looks.
I'm taking care of something I love.
I'm enjoying being outside.
That was an incredibly satisfying weed to pull.
And perhaps the simplest:
I'm having a good time.
There's something almost rebellious about deciding to enjoy something you've always categorized as unpleasant.
You aren't lying to yourself.
You're directing your attention toward the parts of the experience that actually do feel good—and giving those parts more room.
Joy Likes a Little Help
Choosing joy doesn't mean sitting around waiting for your mind to manufacture it.
Help it along.
Put on music you love.
Bring something cold to drink.
Wear your favorite floppy sun hat.
Get the comfortable gardening gloves.
Take your shoes off afterward and walk barefoot through the grass.
Invite the dog outside with you.
Stop occasionally and admire what you've accomplished.
Make the experience pleasurable on purpose.
We do this naturally when something is considered special.
We choose the restaurant with the beautiful patio. We make the vacation playlist. We order the drink with the little umbrella. We plan what we'll wear. We photograph the sunset.
We participate in creating our enjoyment.
Why should ordinary life receive less imagination?
You Don't Have to Win at Weeding
There's another way we drain the enjoyment out of ordinary things:
We turn them into races.
How quickly can I finish this?
How much can I get done?
I have to finish the whole yard today.
Suddenly the objective isn't enjoying the afternoon.
It's defeating the garden.
But what happens if you don't make efficiency the goal?
Pull a few weeds.
Look at the flowers.
Go investigate that butterfly.
Pull some more.
Stand up and admire the patch you just cleared.
Drink your iced tea.
Change the song.
Maybe you finish everything.
Maybe you don't.
A successful afternoon doesn't always have to be measured by how much you accomplished.
Sometimes a perfectly legitimate measure is:
Did I enjoy myself while I was doing it?
Now Imagine It Isn't About Weeds
Because, of course, it isn't.
Pulling weeds is simply a wonderfully ordinary example.
If you can deliberately create enjoyment while doing something as mundane as pulling weeds, what else have you dismissed too quickly?
Folding laundry.
Grocery shopping.
Washing the car.
Cleaning the kitchen.
Cooking dinner.
Walking the dog.
Organizing a closet.
Running errands.
Waiting for an appointment.
Standing in line.
Maybe you've been approaching some of these moments with a story already attached:
Boring.
Annoying.
Waste of time.
Just get it done.
And maybe the activity isn't entirely responsible for the way it feels.
Perhaps you've been bringing some of that experience with you.
Which means you can bring something else.
Humor.
Curiosity.
Music.
Play.
Appreciation.
Imagination.
A little silliness.
A better conversation with yourself.
And, most importantly, the decision that you are allowed to enjoy yourself before everything is finished.
How Much Ordinary Life Have We Underestimated?
We spend an enormous amount of our lives doing ordinary things.
Far more time than we spend celebrating birthdays, traveling somewhere spectacular, reaching major goals or sitting beside a beautiful pool on vacation.
So if happiness is something we reserve for extraordinary circumstances, we're limiting ourselves to a remarkably small number of opportunities to experience it.
But if you become good at creating little pockets of joy in ordinary moments?
The landscape of your life begins to look very different.
There are suddenly opportunities everywhere.
Not because every chore is secretly wonderful.
Not because you have to pretend you love everything you do.
But because you have more influence over the experience than you may realize.
You can add something.
You can notice something.
You can play.
You can laugh.
You can change the conversation you're having with yourself.
You can decide:
I'm already here. Why not enjoy it?
Maybe the Weeds Were Never the Point
The next time you see something mundane waiting to be done, notice the story that appears first.
Then try giving yourself a different one.
Don't wait until the task becomes enjoyable.
Participate in making it enjoyable.
Because if you can create joy while pulling weeds, imagine how many other supposedly mundane pieces of your life you've underestimated.
Maybe there is far more joy available in an ordinary day than you've been giving it credit for.
You just have to stop saving all of it for the extraordinary ones.
Enjoy the process,
Tamara