1 Thought:
There’s something special about ice cream churned by hand.
As a kid, I remember gathering with my family around a clunky old ice cream maker that lived in the recesses of our home. It was a big wood-sided bucket with a crank attached to the top, and the job of turning that crank was as unforgiving as it was endless. We’d take turns — the handle grinding under our hands, our arms aching, faces flushed from the summer heat. At some point, every single person begged for a break. But we stuck with it, knowing that the longer we cranked, the smoother and colder the reward; that and dad said keep churning.
When it was finally ready, that first spoonful didn’t just taste like vanilla or strawberry. It tasted like accomplishment. It tasted like family. It tasted like a little piece of summer that we had earned.
Compare that to a carton of store-bought ice cream. Sure, it’s convenient, sweet, and perfectly packaged. But it never hit the same way.
This story isn’t really about ice cream, though. It’s about eudaimonia, a word the ancient Greeks used to describe a kind of deep, flourishing happiness — a life of meaning and fulfillment that comes not from comfort or ease, but from striving toward something worthwhile. In today’s world, where convenience is king and instant gratification is everywhere, it’s easy to lose sight of the value of earned wins — of working for something with effort, intention, and care.
But it’s in those efforts, those long hikes and hand-cranked moments, that eudaimonia lives.
What Is Eudaimonia, Really?
To really understand the value of earned experiences, you first have to understand the concept of eudaimonia.
Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher, is most commonly associated with the term. He argued that the ultimate goal of human life isn’t pleasure, wealth, or honor, but eudaimonia — which can be roughly translated as “human flourishing” or “living well.” But it’s not just about feeling good. It’s about being good, and doing good — living in accordance with virtue, growing through effort, and fulfilling your potential.
Eudaimonia doesn’t come easily. It’s not something you can buy, borrow, or be handed. It’s cultivated — like a garden that requires watering, weeding, and attention over time. It often shows up disguised as hard work, long journeys, or uphill battles. But when it arrives, it’s deeply satisfying in a way that fleeting pleasures never are.
It’s the kind of joy you can’t fake — the kind that lingers long after the moment has passed.
The Problem with Handed Wins
We live in a world that’s obsessed with shortcuts. If there’s an easier way to do something, someone will find it. If there’s a way to get the reward without the work, someone will sell it.
And to be fair, convenience has its place. There’s nothing inherently wrong with making things easier or more accessible. But when it becomes the default — when we start expecting meaningful outcomes without meaningful effort — something gets lost.
Think about the difference between earning a win and being handed one. Whether it’s a trophy, a job, a compliment, or even something as simple as a bowl of ice cream, how we receive it shapes how we value it.
A win that you earn — through persistence, practice, sweat, or even struggle — carries a deeper weight. It’s not just a result; it’s a reflection of who you had to become to get there. It tells a story of growth. It builds resilience. It strengthens character.
A win that’s handed to you? It may feel good in the moment, but it often fades fast. There’s no grit behind it. No transformation. It’s like admiring a painting without knowing anything about the brushstrokes.
Ice Cream and Integrity
Back to that ice cream.
As a kid, I didn’t know what eudaimonia was. I just knew that the hand-churned stuff tasted different. Better. Like it mattered more.
Looking back, I realize that it wasn’t just about the flavor. It was about the process — the shared effort, the anticipation, the way we worked together toward a goal. That process made the outcome more meaningful. It wasn’t just dessert — it was a reward forged through time and toil.
This is the paradox of effort: it can be exhausting in the moment, but enriching in the long run. The very act of pushing ourselves — of choosing the harder path — creates a deeper connection to the outcome. The pain of the process often becomes part of the pleasure.
Compare that to a store-bought pint. Cold, sweet, forgettable. It fills you up, but it doesn’t fulfill you.
In this way, effort gives things integrity. It makes them more real. More yours.
The Hike to the Sunset
Here’s another way to think about it:
Imagine watching a sunset on TV. The colors are perfect. The camera angle is ideal. You’re sitting in your climate-controlled living room with snacks within reach. Easy, right?
Now imagine hiking up a steep trail for two hours — legs burning, sweat dripping, lungs heaving — just to see that same sunset in person. You reach the summit exhausted, but as the sky turns gold and pink and orange, something inside you shifts.
You earned that view. You didn’t just watch it — you witnessed it. You felt the air change. You saw the way the light touched the trees. You earned that stillness, that awe. You might have made a connection with whomever joined your journey even.
That’s the difference.
Eudaimonia is the second sunset.
It’s not about how impressive or dramatic the outcome is — it’s about the depth of your experience with it. When you put in the work, you’re not just earning a result. You’re earning a relationship with the moment. You’re becoming someone who can carry that moment forward.
Why This Matters Now More Than Ever
In an age of instant everything — from same-day delivery to social media fame — it’s easy to mistake speed for value. We’re told that the faster we get somewhere, the better. That struggle is a sign of failure, not growth.
But real, lasting fulfillment doesn’t come from skipping steps. It comes from embracing them. Even the hard ones.
In fact, it’s especially the hard ones.
Struggle shapes identity. Discipline breeds self-respect. Challenges call forth character. The moments when we want to quit — but don’t — are the moments when we grow into ourselves.
Handed wins can’t do that. They can’t teach us who we are, or what we’re capable of. They can’t give us the quiet pride of knowing we stuck with something even when it was tough.
Earned wins? They offer something deeper than pride. They offer purpose.
Living a Eudaimonic Life
So how do we pursue a life rooted in eudaimonia? How do we cultivate a life of earned, not handed, meaning?
Here are a few thoughts:
- Choose effort over ease — Not always, but often. When faced with two paths, try choosing the one that requires more of you. It may not offer immediate pleasure, but it will likely offer lasting value.
- Invest in process, not just outcome — Find joy in the work itself. The learning, the stumbling, the trying again. That’s where character is forged.
- Celebrate earned moments — Whether it’s finishing a big project, training for a marathon, or simply sticking to a difficult commitment, take time to reflect on what the effort meant — not just what it achieved.
- Teach it to others — If you have kids, friends, students, or colleagues, share the beauty of earned wins. Let them struggle sometimes. Let them discover the pride of finishing something they once thought they couldn’t.
- Seek sunsets, not screens — Go outside. Get uncomfortable. Sweat a little. Struggle a little. The view is better when you’ve worked for it.
Final Scoop
In the end, that old ice cream maker taught me more than I realized at the time. It taught me that joy isn’t just something we find — it’s something we make. That effort can be sweet. That family, work, and reward are often inseparable.
Most of all, it taught me that a life of meaning isn’t always easy — but it’s always worth it.
So crank the handle. Take the hike. Earn your wins.
Because in those moments, you’re not just making ice cream.
You’re making a life.
1 Quote:
” Happiness is not to be achieved at the command of emotional whims. Happiness is not he satisfaction of whatever irrational wishes you might blindly attempt to indulge…”
– Ayn Rand
1 Question:
What commitments have you made yourself either professionally or personally that you failed to follow through because it was too hard or progress wasn’t visible fast enough? If you hadn’t quit would the outcome have been worth the struggle? Then do it. Never too late to dig in and start again.
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