No More Frustration: The Thorns of Opportunity...Part II

May 26


James Smith

James Smith

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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,No More Frustration: The Thorns of Opportunity...Part II Articles 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.