I keep telling myself to slow down, but I don’t. Even while sliding down life’s slippery septuagenarian slope, I still find myself in a state of hurriedness most of the time.
How haste harms is a lesson I should have learned years ago, when my hobby was fishing. I had a small boat and motor, a pole, a paddle, and bait box. On the lake, rat race gave way to snail pace, and I had fun, whether the fish bit or not.
Then one day, I noticed other anglers with large, fast boats, racks of rods, fish finders, and trolling motors. They skittered around like water bugs in a puddle. If fishing was slow in one spot, they sped to another.
I succumbed to temptation, bought a big boat, loaded it with accessories, and began racing from one end of the lake to the other, never slowing down to enjoy my hobby. Fishing became stressful, a water-borne rat race.
I longed for my little boat, the one I could tie to a tree, and fish for hours, listening to the waves’ gentle lap, buzzing insects, and chirping birds … becoming one with nature.
I began another hobby, gardening, and vowed not to ruin it with unnecessary bells-and-whistles accessories, and by not hurrying.
All life is learning, and gardens are ideal classrooms. Gardeners soon learn that their hobby is a metaphor for life, where they experience contentment, frustration, disappointment, joy, hard work and relaxation.
A conscientious gardener is an artist whose medium is the proper mix of soil, water, sunshine, and living things. Like all artists, he learns that worthwhile creations don’t come easy. He learns to arrange priorities and to concentrate on one task at a time, rather than flitting in several directions at once.
As his skills increase, a gardener learns that by breaking big jobs down into smaller, more manageable parts, he can achieve the desired result with a minimum of frustration and counterproductive effort.
When a gardener fully grasps the parallels between gardening and life, he realizes that a well-tended garden, like a well-tended life, nurtures his mental and emotional wellbeing, which in turn provides strength of spirit, enabling him to cope with life’s heartaches, sorrows, pain, and disappointments.
The plants a gardener nurtures help him to grow in his understanding of the glory, power, majesty, and creativity of the Gardener of the Universe.
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At day’s end, the gardening artist turns from his palette, gazes at his work with an approving eye, and is satisfied with his steadily improving craftsmanship. With a deep sense of accomplishment, he can look back on a day well spent and gain a clear understanding of what poet Robert Service meant in the last stanza of his poem, “Each Day A Life”:
O that all Life were but a Day,
Sunny and sweet and sane!
And that at Even I might say:
“I sleep to wake again.”
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
I keep telling myself to slow down, but I don’t. Even while sliding down life’s slippery septuagenarian slope, I still find myself in a state of hurriedness most of the time.
How haste harms is a lesson I should have learned years ago, when my hobby was fishing. I had a small boat and motor, a pole, a paddle, and bait box. On the lake, rat race gave way to snail pace, and I had fun, whether the fish bit or not. 
