Dissatisfaction as a Growth Factor
Usually, life presents its opportunities in three stages: the I could stage, the I should stage, and the I must stage.
The I could stage comes naturally when everything feels good, when life runs smoothly, and our creative powers are free to be used constructively. In these periods, we feel inspired. We feel that we could do so much. New ideas come naturally.
And they are big, significant, life-changing. The ones we have been waiting for our whole lives.
They keep coming, and we feel good about ourselves. We feel alive. We transform these ideas into dreams, talk about them, make plans. We are at our peak.
And yet, one significant factor is missing: action.
There is no strong motivational force pushing us from dreaming into doing. This is quite understandable. We feel good. There is no external pressure, no urgent reason to change anything. We are in our private paradise.
It feels like an endless summer.
Opportunities to improve this paradise are there, of course. But why hurry? It will last forever.
Won’t it?
Eventually, circumstances change. Summer comes to an end, and autumn is around the corner.
Paradise begins to lose some of its lure. Things suddenly feel a little different. As if something should change. As if we should finally start moving from ideas towards action.
But the ideas that once felt so great and so alive, the ones we gladly shared with everybody, have become misty and distant. What once inspired us now starts to feel like a burden.
“Everything is still alright. It is just a bad phase,” the inner voice says.
“Relax. You are doing great. Good days are coming back. You deserve them. It is the law of attraction. What you have been thinking about will certainly come into existence.”
So we relax. Or at least we try.
Meanwhile, the inner pressure grows.
Slowly but surely, autumn turns into winter. Suddenly, it is cold. Empty. Dark.
The pressure is immense. We do not feel like ourselves anymore. There is a sense of meaninglessness. We do not want to get out of bed.
And somewhere beneath all of it is one persistent thought: We should start that project.
If only we felt better. If only that old impulse returned—the one we felt a few months ago. Then we would immediately put all our energy and heart into it.
And sometimes, in the middle of those cold and dark winter days, the sun suddenly appears. The sky is clear, deep blue, beautiful. We feel full of energy again.
One voice says:
“Now. Use the chance. Start the project.”
But another voice answers:
“No. Let’s enjoy this beautiful weather. These days are rare. When the bad weather returns, then we will work.”
And the moment slips away. A few days later, we feel bad again. Helpless. Hopeless. The burden becomes heavier.
It is like a dark shadow sitting on our shoulders, following us day and night.
By then, we know. We have to do it. There is no way out. Every attempt to escape only creates more suffering, more misery, more pressure.
And finally, we start.
It is difficult. The ideas are no longer clear. Motivation is low. The work feels stressful, heavy, oppressive. But now we know that we have to endure. Otherwise, something worse awaits.
And we curse ourselves. Why did we wait so long? Why did we not start in summer, when everything was easy, when we were full of energy and ideas?
But there is no way back. So we endure. Small steps. Then slightly bigger ones.
Walking through snow is hard, but the warm days are coming. Spring is around the corner.
The birds begin to chirp. The sun stays longer in the sky. The snow starts melting. Our steps become lighter, bigger, more confident.
The goal becomes clearer. We feel good again. Creativity begins to flow.
Now we are moving. Now we are productive. We are in our prime.
And then comes another dangerous thought: “Now I can rest a little. I deserve it.”
We slip away. The clouds return. The rain comes back. A reminder. It is not over yet.
So we gather ourselves and begin the final sprint. No more slipping away. No more unnecessary resting. Let’s finish it. Let’s be done with it.
And soon, summer is around the corner again. Everything feels great. The project is finished. New ideas are arriving. Good ones. Exciting ones.
But who would bother now? We have just finished something major. Let’s rest a little bit…
Sounds relatable? I know.
We create our own paradise, but we also create our own hell.
We are the blacksmiths of our destiny, and opportunities are around us constantly. Yet it is remarkably easy to fall into the illusion that we have plenty of time. That we can delay. That the right opportunity will somehow remain available until we finally feel ready.
But by delaying good opportunities, we often invite misery.
And perhaps misery is not always there to destroy us. Perhaps sometimes it is there to bring us back on track.
To remind us that there are things we need to finish, accomplish, experience, or do.
Our responsibility. Our karma and dharma. Our duty.
This is how we naturally grow and learn: by doing, by experiencing, by moving through life rather than endlessly thinking about it.
We are all instruments of the Lord, and when we refuse to play His song, we suffer.
Either we swim with the flow of life or against it.
And when it hurts, perhaps the message is simple: Change direction.
Use your dissatisfaction to grow.
Use your pain to heal.
God puts only as much upon your back as you can carry. Not more.
It is there for your own good, for your own growth.
Learn to transform.
