Simple Growth

In a party I went to recently, I engaged in a fun practice in that household, high stakes (loser eats the dreaded wasabi-roll) crick-crack-crock (rock-scissors-paper) gambling.

I am a simple man and this kind of game appeals to me. Or at the very least, I was called that, and once provoked, had to of course win the game in compelling fashion, thus forcing my unfortunate opponent to eat the piece of Japanese history, forever engraved in the hearts of all who were there.

The idea is basic, best out of three, winner doesn’t have to eat the wasabi roll. It looks just like a cucumber roll, and as the name suggests, wasabi is instead in the middle.

The taste…? I wouldn’t know, because I won. Despite the jokes the recipient made of the roll’s good texture, flavor and quality of make, I don’t imagine it tasted very good.

Funny how not too long ago, I would never have dared to participate in such a game. I would have thought a million things. Probably along the lines of: What if I lose? What if I end up eating it, and spitting it out? What if I end up throwing up and making a mess in the party?

How will you ever know, the way that circumstances go?

It’s always going to hit you by surprise —Blue Rodeo

To play this kind of game, for someone who grew up in an environment of siblings where everyone had a super strong immune system, never got sick, and perhaps, for example, lived in a family where their natural foods (like Indian pickles) were much harsher than wasabi, the level of courage they need to play such a game is basically nonexistent.

In contrast, someone who grew up in a family where everybody was sick all the time, or even if they weren’t, were complaining all the time about how worried they were about eating the wrong foods, bacteria that they thought they picked up from touching a subway station seat and the fiercest of their diet consisted of a quarter teaspoon of chilli on their bowl of rice noodle, the stakes would be much higher.

In the first scenario, there is no risk. The family members have done this kind of activity a million times over and at the end of the day, this kind of contest is simply forgotten about and played off as just another fun event.

In the second scenario, the individual who has for the first time participated in this contest, win or lose, would learn a lot more about themselves, feel an incredibly energy rush and it would be such an eye opening experience that perhaps they wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. It would be something of a miracle to them.

When you look back at everything you’ve done, where do you find the most growth? What were the circumstances that gave you maturity?

I’m willing to bet that it was an encounter that you would deem a miracle. Perhaps you wouldn’t use that exact word, but you should be able to pick out a memorable time or two where you were able to say, yes, that was a good lesson learned there!

When I look back upon my own miracles, I can recall thousands of moments, so many times that somehow stayed forever in my memories as something that shone brighter than all the others. And it’s funny to me, no matter how many times I recall these miracles, I get an ever increasing deeper feeling of gratefulness, knowing that without these opportunities, I wouldn’t be the (simple) man I am today.

When I began this article, I recall how I was called a “simple man” before the wasabi contest. The way it was said was in a slightly mocking, very humorous manner. I loved it. It was perfect and set up for great laughs and good cheer for everyone involved.

At the same time, I feel that the same words, said in another way, to be called a “simple man” is one of the greatest compliments one could ever hope to receive.

Only a happy person can afford to be simple. A complicated man is often found striving, and usually not too efficiently. For example, you will often see a lot of “complicated” people reinventing the wheel when there is already a better way in place. A simple person gets from point A to point B faster and gets more things done. Sure, this usually involves putting trust in systems that exist that are not perfect, but that’s part of the fun. And in the end, it’s the simple person that creates the most value, for themselves, and for others.

Connect me on Facebook | Twitter | Google + | LinkedIn