You know, I was playing the new NBA 2K25 the other night, and something funny happened. I wasn’t just grinding through the career mode to upgrade my player’s stats. I found myself actually stopping to watch the in-game TV show segments. That’s right—the fake sports talk show that pops up between games. In most sports games, these bits are painfully awkward, the kind of thing you mash the ‘skip’ button to avoid. I’ve done it a thousand times in Madden or MLB The Show. But here, the hosts were genuinely funny, their debate on ranking the league’s historical dynasties was smart, and the whole thing was fully animated and voiced with real charm. I didn’t skip it. It added a layer of joy to the experience I wasn’t even looking for. It got me thinking about how we attract joy and abundance into our lives. We often treat it like a grueling career mode, all grinding and no fun, when sometimes, the good fortune we seek is hiding in the moments we’re usually in too much of a hurry to skip. Attracting more joy isn’t about a single magical transaction; it’s about a series of practical, almost playful shifts in our daily routine. It’s about tuning into the channel where the good stuff is already playing, instead of constantly flipping past it.

Think about that blend the 2K25 show gets right: a welcome mix of mirth and analysis. That’s the sweet spot. We can’t just analyze our way to happiness with spreadsheets and five-year plans, nor can we just wish for it without any grounded action. It’s the combination that works. So, how do we apply that? The first step is shockingly simple, yet we resist it fiercely: curate your inputs. Your mind is like that in-game TV channel. If you’re constantly consuming news feeds filled with outrage, or scrolling through social media highlight reels that make you feel inadequate, you’re programming your own brain for anxiety and scarcity. I made a rule for myself last year: no news or social media for the first hour of my day. Instead, I might listen to a funny podcast or read a few pages of a novel. This small change didn’t solve my problems, but it changed the background music of my mind from a tense thriller soundtrack to something a bit more lighthearted. It’s estimated that the average person consumes over 74 gigabytes of data daily—a number that’s probably wrong but feels terrifyingly true. You have to be the producer of your own mental show. Choose content that blends a little mirth with the analysis.

This leads directly to the second step: actively look for the ‘highlight reel’ in your own life. The hosts in the game jump around the league to discuss scores and highlights. We need to do the same for ourselves, but with a crucial twist. We’re terrible at this. We fixate on our failures—the missed shots, the turnovers of our day. But what about the small assists? The nice pass of a compliment you gave a coworker? The three-pointer you nailed by finally clearing out your email inbox? I started keeping what I call a “Win Log.” It’s not a full-blown journal, just a note on my phone where I jot down two or three tiny victories or pleasant moments before bed. Something as simple as “made a great cup of coffee this morning” or “had a genuinely productive 25-minute focus session.” This isn’t about arrogance; it’s about training your brain to scan for and record the good stuff. Over time, this builds an internal library of evidence that your life isn’t all bad news and lowlights. You start to believe in your own capacity for good fortune because you’ve got the receipts.

Now, step three is where we borrow that “in-universe” idea. Create a compelling narrative for yourself. In the game, the TV show exists within the universe of my career, making it feel cohesive and real. Our lives often feel fragmented—work me, home me, social me. But what’s the overarching story? Are you the resilient hero learning from setbacks? The curious explorer gathering new experiences? I decided my current narrative is “the builder.” Every action, from a tough work project to choosing to call an old friend, is framed as laying a brick for a future I want. This narrative shift is powerful. It turns mundane tasks into meaningful plot points and challenges into necessary conflicts that the hero must overcome. It makes the journey itself compelling, not just the destination. You stop asking “Why is this happening to me?” and start asking “How does this fit into my story?” This subtle reframe is a magnet for resilience, which is a cornerstone of abundance.

Of course, none of this works without step four: embracing the cringe. The game’s developers knew that in-game TV shows are “reliably cringeworthy.” They leaned into it, but with higher quality—better writing, real animation. We have to do the same. Putting yourself out there, trying a new habit, telling someone you appreciate them—it can feel awkward. That initial attempt at meditation might feel silly. That first draft of a side-project idea might be embarrassing. I used to avoid writing because my first sentences were always terrible. But what if, like the NBA 2K25 team, you commit more resources to it? You animate it with more practice, you voice it with more confidence. You accept the initial cringe as part of the process. Most people abandon their path to joy at the first sign of awkwardness. The ones who attract lasting abundance are the ones who befriend the awkward phase and keep going until it becomes, if not seamless, then at least entertaining in its own right.

Finally, step five is the ultimate unlock: find what you don’t want to skip. In a world screaming for our attention, joy is often found in what holds it freely. I don’t skip those TV segments in 2K25 because they offer value on my terms—fun and a dash of basketball lore. What are the things in your life you don’t want to skip? Maybe it’s a weekly call with a certain friend, your morning walk, or losing yourself in a hobby for an hour. Protect those things ferociously. They are not distractions from your productivity; they are the source code of your happiness. They recharge you in a way that makes you more effective everywhere else. I’ve found that when I schedule my week, I now block out time for these “non-skippables” first, before the meetings and chores. It signals to my own brain that my joy is a priority, not an afterthought. This simple act of prioritization is perhaps the most practical step of all. It moves attraction from a concept to a calendar event. So start there. Look for your version of that in-game TV show—the thing that blends a little mirth with your reality—and just don’t skip it. Your happy fortune might just be waiting in that pause.