Funny how small things always manage to kickstart the brain into ponderous musings on the nature of life.

Recently, one of my coworkers passed around that little catalog that you get when you’re in elementary school. You know the one. The kind with all sorts of holiday doodads, kitchenware, household decorations, candles, etc. My coworker was playing the role of good mama and passed this sucker around to everyone in the office. Naturally, everyone being a reasonably good person bought something, not wanting to sleight such a cute kid.

So, seeing as how I had just recently gotten my own place, I decided to look for some swag for the cradle. I say “cradle” because it’s not quite a “crib,” yet. I think to officially be dubbed a “crib,” some “honeys” are required. And since the catalog didn’t offer any of those cute little honey bear bottles, it shall stay as a cradle until there is some sort of honey-esque interjection.

Anyway, I came across a Bonsai tree, and thought it’d be nice to get some life into the cradle. I’ve always had a certain affinity for plant life and botanical types, so I figured, “why not?” The one hitch to it all… the little sucker had to be planted. Sonuva…

Now, I have no experience whatsoever in caring for plants, animals, myself, or living things in general. That said, I knew this was gonna be a challenge. I mean, me not only having to take care of a living thing, but having to practically birth it? You’d have a better chance of finding honesty in the Bush Administration. Nevertheless, determined to at least give it a shot, I ordered the sucker. And about four to eight weeks later, my order came. When I opened the package, I was given maybe half-a-dozen seeds, soil and a small pot. I wasn’t even given anything to put under the pot. Seeing as how there’s a hole to sop up excess water, I was forced to nab an ashtray from my parents’ place.

The directions were brutally simple and painfully ambiguous: “place seeds about one inch apart, water regularly.” How regularly, motherfucker? What, like once a day, twice a day, hourly? Define regularly, you fuckwit piece of paper!

You can almost foresee a disaster in the making as you read this, right? Well, I stuck it out and watered this tiny pot of soil daily. Just enough to keep it good and moist. I have no botanical experience whatsoever as I mentioned, so I just kinda made sure it was a regular thing in my daily diet of to-do’s. After more than a month, I had all but given up hope on this sucker ever sprouting.

Then one day just a week or so ago, I noticed two small green tendrils emerging from the soil. Whu…? You mean to tell me that I actually succeeded in caring for a plant? And not for nothing, but my mother is a gardener of the alpha variety, so she knew I was up against a wall with this thing, and told me point blank that I had wasted my money in buying them. I was beginning to believe her, too, until I saw it blossom with my own two eyes.

In honor of the classic Karate Kid, series (pre-Hilary Swank, of course), I named my beloved Bonsai-in-progress “Miyagi.” Perhaps it was fate that just one day after he sprouted, Pat Morita passed away. I’m happy to report that little Miyagi continues to grow noticeably each day.

Where am I goin’ with this? I’ll tell you where.

It’s taken me a page and a half worth of writing to rip a page from my life as an illustrative metaphor that pace is essential to the life we lead, people. Now little Miyagi, he had to grow at his own pace in spite of his father’s impatience and ignorance as to the inner workings of plant life. He couldn’t be rushed, no matter how much water or sunlight he received, and at the end of the day, I feel much better in knowing that I’m able to watch him grow from seed to sprout to proud Bonsai when I could’ve just gone to Costco or any generic Asian kiosk in the mall and bought a full-grown Bonsai.

The equation here is simple, my pretties… the more steady the pace, the better the quality of your life. If the pace is accelerated, the likelihood of disaster is amplified. We lose sight of this quite frequently in life due to the nature of the society in which we live, because our culture doesn’t permit a steady pace. Everything has to be expedited: faster, more efficient, able to process quicker, etc. We move so fast, naturally our lives feel empty, less than complete, like we’re missing something. It’s because we’re not moving at a healthy pace, plain and simple.

I have noticed that within the context of my job, when I am rushed to get things in on short deadlines, more often than not mistakes are made. I would say that no compromises should be made for timeliness, but it’s par for the course around my office that I’m not the only one making such errors when pressed that way. Having said that, I don’t believe there should be a trade-off between accuracy and punctuality, but the saying does apply: “You can have it done fast, or you can have it done right.”

Pick one.

I’ve also come to realize that my pacing with my workouts has slowed and become more intent, more focused. And yeah, I’ve noticed results. That focus also applies to meditation, a highly enriching practice that requires one to keep the pace slow… to not get caught up in the high impact world in which we live. Needless to say this is another practice that I have adopted and grown to love.

Moreover, I feel that my pace in terms of relationships has improved dramatically. Following my last relationship, I’ve slowed things down considerably, taken a good amount of time to and for myself, and just enjoyed life without having to endure the pressures of having to be with someone. And for what it’s worth, I’ve felt better over the last four-plus months than I have in ages.

Imagine that, huh?

This is the thing: no matter how hard we push, no matter how badly we want something, we cannot force it to happen. If we attempt such a feat, we ultimately push whatever it is we want to the brink of ruin, because either we will have gone too far and pushed it to its limit, or once we attain it, it simply won’t seem as special as we had hoped. That’s because we yearned for it and worked for it so hard that when we get a half-assed end result, it’s extremely dissatisfying.

No, my friends… it is better for us to keep the pace of ourselves and our lives as moderate and controlled as possible. This is how the battle is won, and it’s taken me 25 years to come to that conclusion. Maybe I’m a little late in the game as far as coming to terms with it, but I operate at my own steady pace, and better to learn now than not learn at all.

I’m sure lots of this sounds like Zen mumbo jumbo, but trust me when I tell you, the quality of my life has improved tenfold, and the fact remains that whatever it is I’m working for will come in time. That’s not to say I shouldn’t work for it, but in keeping the pace at a comfortable level, it will come to me in time.

I’d imagine the same holds for you. Just watch.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.