Life is a dirty business.

The phrase “blood, sweat and tears” hasn’t been relegated to cliche status for no reason. It’s overused, frankly, because we’ve discovered it to be all too true.

Think of it like a pile of oranges on your kitchen counter. You have a thirst for a glass of freshly-squeezed, and so you pull out the juicer and get to work. After an afternoon of haranguing every drop from the (bloody) pulp, you’re left with an itty-bitty half-glass of OJ to show for it. And a trash bag full of garbage, a messy countertop and super sticky fingers. That’s a whole lot of work and a huge mess for a little bit a juice.

Seems to me life is 90% messy struggle, with 10% sweet goodness. If you’re lucky. Hardly makes it worthwhile to spend so much time and energy trying to squeeze out something enjoyable, right?

Unless the quarter cup of sweetness at the end wasn’t supposed to be the only goal.

What if we’re meant to savor the juicing as much as the juice? What if we’re to drink in the smell of orange peel, the feel of our muscles tensing, the process of transforming fruit to liquid? What if the getting dirty part tasted just as sweet as the juice?

Which is why I’m trying to be less focused on filling the glass…

…and more enamored with the feel of the squeeze.