We are always waiting for uncomfortable things to end

Our last retreat was walking and camping on Dartmoor. You can imagine my disbelief when a yellow weather warning was announced. 50 mile an hour winds and all day heavy rain. For a split second I considered cancelling.

Until I remembered my ongoing practise of smiling into discomfort.

You see, we're so often waiting for uncomfortable things to end and when we can handle discomfort we can really handle anything.

Discomfort is really the only thing that holds us back. In my case discomfort, of being seen or getting it wrong, stops me marketing a business. Discomfort of running that extra kilometre stops me getting fitter. Discomfort of seeing my children in discomfort robs them of their resilience. Avoiding discomfort holds us back and keeps us small.

Much of my personal development work since founding my first company 15 years ago — and realising how uncomfortable I am with discomfort — has been i) to get familiar with discomfort ii) not wait for it to end and iii) even smile into discomfort.

I've discovered that smiling into discomfort is a remarkably easy thing to do. During my morning meditations I hold a stress position for what seems like an impossibly long time. I hold the discomfort and smile into it. The mere act of smiling instead of wincing completely reverses my sense of the experience.

Try it. I can send you some audios to practise with.

The retreat was uncomfortable at times. The wind was 50 mile an hour and the rain didn't let up until the evening. We walked head first into that wind and rain for seven hours for 20 kilometres over intensely beautiful and deeply inhospitable land.

Not once did I say "if only we had better weather," or "such a shame the rain is so heavy." We buckled up, smiled into discomfort, and walked.

In the discomfort things really start to open up. We become more vulnerable; we become more honest; we're more in touch with our emotions. The discomfort actually helps us get out of our heads and into our bodies. This is exactly why I build my men's retreats around discomfort instead of comfort — and it's the same principle behind the 1:1 life coaching work I do with men.

Ask the men who were there if they'd have wanted better weather. You tell me:

"I haven't felt like this in years." "I felt more connected with my family when I got back." "This cut to the core of me way more than I thought it would."

Next time something is uncomfortable, smile — and see what a difference it makes.