The Sprint of a Bowl of Rice

by dffr3042 on 2009-12-03 13:28:53

When I was young, I often went to cut firewood outside the mountain with my sister. My father always walked very fast, and I could only run in front of him with a slightly shorter扁担(on shoulders). When we returned, I had to carry the firewood and fight with branches. My sister still walked very fast, but I couldn't keep up with her. Whenever I stopped to rest for a while, I would never be able to catch up with her after that. So, my father always had to turn back to fetch me. My father often said: "You can't even carry a big bundle of firewood, and you can't keep up even when you run. If everyone is like you, perhaps there won't even be a bowl of rice to eat in the wild." Back then, I thought running and eating were related.

At that time, when we went to the field to harvest rice or pull seedlings, we had to work very fast; otherwise, we would "fall behind". Whether it was harvesting rice or planting rice, you had to work together with others. Speaking of planting rice, each person had their own row. One row connected to another. If the person pulling the first row couldn't keep up, those behind wouldn't be able to surpass, forcing those ahead to speed up. Similarly, if your speed couldn't match others, when others finished planting, you hadn't finished yet, which also meant "falling behind". In the countryside, "falling behind" was a very disgraceful thing, indicating that your movements were clumsy and not flexible. Naturally, such people wouldn't receive praise from others. Therefore, I often worked desperately hard to cut and plant. As a result, the seedlings I planted were neatly arranged. However, the villagers still joked with me, saying: "You may be good at wielding a pen, but if you do farm work, you might not even be able to compete for food."

From the small-scale farming I did as a child, I realized its complexity. It wasn't just simple physical labor, but also a combination of strength, speed, and skill. Eating a meal wasn't an easy thing to do.

In primary school, by chance, I became interested in writing and submitting articles. A teacher at the time said that to achieve results, it wasn't difficult, as long as I kept writing. That was indeed true. There were far fewer people who wrote better than me at school. Unfortunately, they didn't take their strengths seriously, whereas I was different. I wrote tirelessly, practiced relentlessly, and it was this simple method that allowed me to have a thick collection of works by graduation. I didn't expect that this collection would help me secure a small opportunity. When others were struggling with farm work, feeling frustrated and complaining, I was quickly hired by a media outlet. The recruiter told me that there were two reasons why I was hired: first, I met the basic requirements for this industry, and more importantly, from my thick collection of works, it was evident that I was someone who constantly strived behind the scenes. Being accepted by this city, I knew I would at least have a warm bowl of rice.

Sometimes, I feel that success is that simple: act more, think longer; not the best, but the most diligent; not the fastest runner, but the one who runs the hardest, continuously without stopping.

Originally, life might be like this: from the start, you commit to striving forward. Perhaps only by constantly striving can you discover the scenery ahead sooner and find a sip of water to quench your thirst and a bowl of rice to fill your stomach in this fiercely competitive, even cruel, society.

Article source: http://www.luoliaow.info