I have a bunch of instant drinks at home – red dates, goji berries, milk, chrysanthemum, sanqi flowers, honey, you name it. This year, I discovered aojiru, a powdered barley leaf drink. I’m not in it for the health benefits; it just tastes good, kind of like matcha. It’s great with milk and oatmeal for breakfast. I had two brands: one was pure barley leaf powder, the other had matcha, sugar, and other additives. It tasted bland, and I wasn’t a fan.
The other day, I finished the bland one. I was secretly relieved, thinking, “I won’t buy that again.” But then it hit me – why did I power through the bad one first?
It’s a bit complicated. I first noticed this habit in elementary school. My mom sometimes picked me up for lunch since my school was nearby. We’d grab a quick lunchbox. I loved meat; a chicken drumstick made my day. My mom’s coworker noticed I always ate the other food first, saving the drumstick for last. She said, “Your son is a pessimist. He saves the best for last.” That was the first time I realized not everyone thinks like me.
In school, this was a good thing. My parents and teachers saw me as disciplined, finishing homework before playing. I’d sneak out of bed to play games, but never before homework was done. I’m not sure I loved studying, but it worked.
But this approach isn’t always a hit. Take my grandparents. They have a storage room full of things their kids gave them – clothes, kitchenware, you name it. They won’t use anything new until the old stuff breaks, which drives everyone nuts. Thankfully, they’ve loosened up, taking more time to enjoy life.
That lady’s “pessimist” comment wasn’t quite right. You could call it optimism, depending on your focus. So, what’s the real difference between sooner or later? It’s about worldview, two ways of seeing the world, leading to two strategies: gathering and sowing. Gatherers are past-oriented. They see a static world where every bit used is a loss, so they hoard to reach goals. Sowers are present-oriented. They see a dynamic world where consumption fuels gain.
Sounds cliché, right? Like “carpe diem”? But it’s easy to misjudge yourself. I thought I was a sower because I’m easygoing. But the aojiru made me rethink. I have this habit of keeping things just so. If I move something, I put it back immediately. When cooking, I’ll grab the salt, use it, and put it back – repeatedly. I even did something ridiculous: I started washing the egg-beating bowl while the egg was cooking. The heat was too high, and the egg burned. This weird quirk shows I instinctively prefer the existing order, a static worldview.
Even with cooking, if I keep reaching for salt, the spice rack needs rearranging. Changing the environment takes effort, disrupting the familiar. That’s sowing – using energy and prior effort to create efficiency. Sowers use existing resources to make today the best, rather than hoarding the best.
Back to the aojiru. It’s a small thing. I could’ve saved or tossed the bad one. What’s the upside of the good aojiru? One thing: after tasting something good, your sense of “good” sharpens. That improved perception is a gain.