Sometimes things are just broken. Maybe they’re broken at home, in your business, or in your habits and routines. Maybe, it’s a physical thing that’s broken, like your car, or your arm.
Maybe, your relationship is broken. Possibly, your relationship with yourself is on the rocks, too.
But we tend to fix things that are broken because we love them. We have an attachment to comfort, and even if something is bad for us, if it gives comfort, we’ll hang on until the very end. Comfort is hard to leave behind when there are so many struggles in life. We gravitate back to what we know, what feels okay - even if it’s not really okay. Even if it’s really just… broken.
Years ago, my partner and I bought a house with two acres. We desperately needed a riding lawn mower to be able to get through the thick weeds and crabgrass, but we were broke. A friend of a friend found us an old Murray 12 horse mower for $100. When I tell you this thing looked like it came out of a scrap pile when we bought it, I’m not joking.
But it DID cut grass. Slowly, painfully, and with a lot of preliminary work each time we used it. Hoses taped up here, mechanical parts being replaced with whatever we had around the house. Spray paint that didn’t match for the rusted out parts, and general “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing” type of fixes for the poor old thing.
It worked to cut grass, and for that we were thankful. But it took forever for each mowing. Three hours to finish the two acres, not counting another two or three hours to patch the thing up before we could even start. It was an entire day project to mow grass every single Saturday.
The grass HAD to be mowed every week. It was so thick, and the only way that poor old Murray mower was going to cut it was if it was fairly maintained. It was a total pain in the ass, but we had a rhythm - every Saturday, get up and start the yard work.
One Friday, my partner came home to tell me he was getting called away for a business trip. He’d be halfway across the country for at least three weeks, and as we discussed, I realized that our Saturday mowing adventures would be all up to me. The mowing part I could handle; but if something broke, as it often did, I’d be in a world of trouble. I had no mechanical knowledge, but I did have a bit of ingenuity. My partner and I combed over the mower one last time before he flew out. The consensus was that if the mower did break, it would likely be in the steering column. That steering column was actually an old 5-gallon bucket handle we’d engineered onto the thing so it would have the ability to turn a corner without the steering wheel coming off.
He said, “Just don’t make rough, hard turns with it and you’ll be just fine.” I trusted his words, and sent him off on his trip.
The very next weekend, the mowing was all up to me. I was dreading it, and all day that Saturday, I was out of sorts about the yard work, and decided to put it off until Sunday. It happened to be Easter Sunday, but I really didn’t have any other plans since my partner was out of town. I fueled up the old Murray, fired her up, and took off down the straightaway headed toward the back forty. So far so good - she was cutting grass like a champ.
But as I was getting close to making the turn up the corner lot, I got a bit nervous. Sometimes you just have that nagging feeling that something is about to go wrong. And sure enough…
I went to make a gentle turn around the corner lot, and the mower kept going forward….
I was headed right into the neighbor’s house! The steering wheel had officially broken.
I slammed on the brake, turned off the blades, and shut down the engine. The swear words coming out of my mouth were atrocious, and my fit pitching and tire kicking was apparently hilarious.
My neighbor, who had witnessed the whole thing came over, nearly doubled over in laughter, and asked if I was okay and if I needed help. I was a bit embarrassed, but really more furious than anything else. This damn mower was a thorn in my side, and now it had become a spectacle for the whole neighborhood!
My big-hearted neighbor and I wrestled that old Murray back to my garage, and in all my frustration, I had to figure out what to do. It was Easter Sunday - there wasn’t a small engine repair in a thousand miles that would be open. Even at that, it occurred to me that they probably wouldn’t touch it anyway, considering it was held together mostly by duct tape, rust, and dirt. Worse, I knew that if I didn’t get the yard cut, I’d have to hire a landscaping company to come bush hog my property by next week.
I wondered for a flat instant if I could buy another used mower - TODAY. And before I could erase the thought from my mind, I was searching Craigslist.
I found one. A really good, commercial grade mower - by a small engine repair shop, who took in old mowers and refurbished them. I called the number on the listing, and to my surprise, someone answered. I set up a time later in the afternoon to go check it out, and I bought it on the spot - with money we’d saved for vacation. I’d be finishing the grass in record time before dark, on Easter Sunday. I was elated, and a problem that had been such a problem for such a long time was finally solved. I wasn’t even mad about spending the money.
See, that’s the thing about problems and comfort zones.
Sometimes we recognize problems, but they don’t sit on top of the priority list. We learn how to manage those problems effectively, or stuff them down in our minds. The management of those problems becomes routine, even comforting because we know what to expect.
Each Saturday, we expected to work on that old Murray. Each Saturday, we expected the majority of the day to be spent on yard work. Each Saturday, we spent a handful of hours managing problems instead of solving problems.
We thought we were solving problems, but in reality, we were just perpetuating them.
Sometimes, things are just broken beyond repair. That old Murray was broken, and it was so obviously broken - yet we ignored it. We found comfort in the routine of knowing we could manage the brokenness, patch the hoses, and strap bucket handles to the steering wheel.
In reality, the “fix” was far easier than we knew, or even cared to explore.
We didn’t want to spend the money to buy a new mower.
We didn’t want the hassle of shopping for a new mower.
We didn’t really need a new mower per se, because the one we had still cut grass.
But we failed to see the bigger picture. The forest was obstructed by the innumerable amount of trees.
If you find yourself making excuses to remain in your comfort zone, here’s your wakeup call:
The minute the frustration and the problem management boils over is the time to make an immediate change. Don’t question it, don’t resist it, just take the leap. When you jump, the net will appear.
If you persist in just managing your problems because the familiarity is easier than the change, you can rest assured that the problem will eventually become so apparent and evident that you will be forced into change, and out of your comfort zone. It’s hard medicine to swallow sometimes, and other times, you’ll be kicking yourself for how easy the real solution appeared when you decided you’d had enough - because sometimes, things are just broken.
The Universe will work miracles for you, even on Easter Sunday… if you just commit to solving the real problem instead of managing the details for the sake of your comfort.
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