How Waiting for Perfect Conditions Steals Today's Joy

We trap ourselves in an endless waiting room—postponing joy until the stars align, until we land that dream job, buy that perfect house, meet that ideal partner, or finally stick to the “right” diet. We tell ourselves a seductive lie: that happiness is a destination we’ll reach once everything falls into place. We daydream about some magical future where all our ducks are in a row and joy will simply arrive, unbidden and complete.

But here’s the paradox: that perfect moment never arrives. Life may improve in countless ways, yet the flawless scenario we’ve constructed in our minds remains a mirage, forever shimmering on the horizon, always one step beyond our grasp. And so we stand frozen, watching joy parade past us like a carnival we’re too busy planning for to actually attend.

Here’s the paradox within the paradox: joy isn’t hiding in some distant tomorrow—it’s woven into the fabric of today, threaded through even our most difficult chapters. We don’t need perfect conditions to find it; we need only the willingness to look. Yet while we wait for life to improve, we forget to practice the very art we’ll need: the gentle discipline of noticing beauty in ordinary moments, of finding light in unexpected places, of letting gratitude bloom in cracked soil.

Time slips through our fingers like water while we stand guard at the gates of “someday,” only to turn around and discover years scattered behind us like fallen leaves.

Yet even when we turn toward joy, life has a way of throwing obstacles in our path. Daily demands pile up like storm clouds, and suddenly we’re caught in a downpour of deadlines, obligations, and noise. The beautiful moments are still there—a stranger’s smile, sunlight through leaves, the warmth of morning coffee—but they’re like stars at noon: present but invisible. Stress builds its walls around us, brick by brick, until we’re living in a fortress that keeps out not just pain, but also wonder. And so we move through our days half-blind, passing by countless small miracles without ever knowing they were there.

True joy doesn’t live in what we own or accomplish—it lives in our ability to find light when everything feels dark. Money comes and goes, success fades, but when we learn to dance with life exactly as it is—storms, sunshine, and everything between—we discover a joy that nothing can take away.

I know this truth intimately—I lived the opposite for far too long. Back in Saskatoon, 2010 and 2011, when everything was falling apart, I made a fatal mistake: I told myself joy could wait. “First, fix your life,” I thought. “Then you can be happy.” But the fixing never came, and I just kept sinking.

Everything shifted in 2012 when life threw me north to the Yukon. I started teaching dance movement classes, and something cracked open inside me. I realized I’d been playing a rigged game—waiting for permission to feel joy from circumstances that might never change. So I stopped waiting. I chose joy anyway, right there in the middle of the mess.

And here’s what nobody tells you: my problems didn’t vanish the moment I decided to be happy. They were all still there, just as heavy, just as real. But joy changed everything else. It lit a small fire of hope, and that hope sparked something I’d forgotten I had—the energy to actually do something about my life. Within three years, I’d climbed out of that dark place. Not because I waited for the light, but because I learned to carry my own.

I want to show you a video I shot in the Yukon—just me, the wilderness, and a camera. Watch what happens when you stop fighting life and start moving with it. This is what joy looks like when you find it in the middle of everything, not at the end:

So here’s my challenge to you: Stop waiting. Stop telling yourself that joy is a reward you’ll earn once you’ve crossed enough finish lines. The truth? Those finish lines keep moving. There will always be one more thing to fix, one more goal to reach, one more reason to delay.

Start now. Not tomorrow. Not when things get easier. Now—in this imperfect, messy, beautiful moment. Look for joy in the cracks of your ordinary day. Find it in the steam rising from your morning cup. In the way light falls across your floor. In the breath moving through your lungs.

The present moment isn’t just good enough—it’s all we ever really have. And it’s waiting for you to finally show up.

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This winter, I brought to life something that has lived in my imagination for years—the first annual print edition of The Gurdeep Magazine. It features writing from other contributors alongside my own work. If you feel called to hold this warmth of printed words in your hands, visit Gurdeep.ca/magazine.

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