No More Frustration: The Thorns of Opportunity - Part II
The quest for the ultimate victory. In part one I shared with you how not knowing what you
don't know, much like the "thorny" gardener, can rob you of
your time, and keep you from enjoying and living the life
you want. You also learned how a seemingly accidental event can
instantly change your life, as you experience the magic of
an "ah ha" moment. Do you ever find yourself saying "Why bother!" or asking
"What's the point?" I mean you put in the time and effort
only to end up with a result you don't like or worse yet, a
result you know others won't like. How many projects have you left incomplete, simply because
you didn't like the results? Read on and learn why the frustration of incomplete
projects doesn't have to happen. In this story you will learn that perfection often has
little to do with being perfect. Today I am going to tell you about the third field of roses
and how the gardener of that field tended to the 1000's of
rose bushes in the third field. Much like the "thorny" gardener, the third gardener was
constantly clipping buds from the rose bushes. Working from sun up to sun down it took every ounce of
energy the third gardener had to clip the 1000's of rose
buds. Weeds were constantly a distraction. There was never enough time to tend to both the rose buds
and the weeds. Still, the gardener tried. So, why is it that the third gardener was clipping the rose
buds? Unlike the "thorny" gardener the third gardener was
well aware of the bud's purpose and very much wanted the
rose to bloom. In fact the third gardener focused every waking moment on
making sure the rose bloom had every opportunity to bloom
to perfection. You see the third gardener was not focused on the thorny
bush nor was the gardener inspired by the possibility of a
field filled with 1000's of colorful blooms. The third gardener, the "perfect" gardener, was not focused
on having a field of roses. The "perfect bloom" was the
focus of the "perfect gardener." With all of the "perfect" gardener's effort it was still
true, more often than not, that the field was filled with
nothing but thorny bushes, without a single bloom. If the "perfect" gardener" wasn't examining a bush and
clipping it's buds, the gardener was tending to the weeds. On many occasions you could find the "perfect" gardener
digging up a rose bush to make room for a new and improved
rose bush. You see, only the best rose bush could produce
the perfect bloom. After all the "perfect bloom," was the "perfect" gardener's
dream. To even be considered as a contender the bloom must have a
certain shape, quality of color, the right number of
pedals, and that one of a kind and alluring fragrance. The "perfect bloom" started with the "perfect bud." The
"perfect" gardener was always asking, "Could this bud
produce the perfect rose? Few buds survived being clipped. As life would have it, in a forgotten part of the field; in
an area where the soil was riddled with rocks and was dry
more often than not, stood a thorny bush. This bush was different and it was not easily seen. The
little bush was surrounded and nearly smothered by the many
weeds. Still, without the attention and care of the "perfect"
gardener the rose bush in the forgotten part of the field,
would grow. Stunted by the limits of it's environment the little bush
was easily missed as it continued to grow. That is until
that one special moment, that special morning when the bush
would produce a single bloom. It was a morning like every other for the "perfect"
gardener. While bending over to clip a bud the morning breeze changed
direction and with the changing breeze the "perfect"
gardener was suddenly able to notice a fragrance so perfect
and sweet. The fragrance was captivating. Immediately without a clip the "perfect" gardener stood in
surprise. As the gardener scanned the field of thorny
bushes, the gardener quickly realized, there was not a
single bloom to be seen. Franticly the gardener began to search the field for the
source of the alluring fragrance. The "perfect" gardener went from corner to corner, and even
zigged and zagged across the field of thorny bushes and
still not a bloom was to be seen. At wits end, and the gardener's frustration peaked a break
was needed. The gardener move quickly away from the field. As luck would have it, once again, the morning breeze would
change direction. The alluring fragrance would have the gardener change
direction and eagerly begin to survey the surrounding areas
of the field. The anticipation of finding the source of
such a fragrance was almost to much to bear. To the gardener's left, near a pile of discarded rose
bushes, and hidden amongst the weeds was a color that
seemed out of place, a color that didn't seem to belong. Moving quickly to see, the morning breeze would confirm the
gardener was en route to the source of the captivating
fragrance. Breaking into a full stride the gardener moved
toward the clump of weeds. Once the gardener was upon the clump of weeds, the rose,
the "perfect bloom," was now plain to see. Quickly pushing
the weeds away, the gardener kneeled to take in the
magnificence of the perfect bloom. As the "perfect" gardener held the perfect bloom a question
came to mind; "how?" How could such a perfect rose bloom be
found on such a bush? In fact the rose bush was more like a short crooked twig
with many thorns and a few leaves. Standing slowly the gardener looked in disbelief. It was
difficult to know how a bush, which was thrown away, could
survive as it did. The morning had come and gone as the gardener now looked at
the field of thorns. The questions were many. All the
work, and all the time, how could this be? The gardener would spend the next few mornings amongst the
weeds enjoying the perfection of such a bloom. As the perfect bloom began to fade the gardener asked "what
is next?" With a smile the once "perfect" gardener started
tending the weeds. No longer would the gardener hurry to clip the buds, no
longer would the gardener hurry to examine a bush, and no
longer would the gardener discard a bush. This season the gardener's heart would fill with joy as the
field of thorns became a field of blooms. No longer would the gardener wait for such a perfect bloom. The once "perfect" gardener could now see the perfection
in each of the many blooms. The perfection the gardener once tried so hard to create
now was easy to see. James Smith
Email - article0020002@alifeofpossibility.com
Web - http://www.alifeofpossibility.com?article0020002
Phone - 405.521.8609
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