THE URGENCY ADDICTION: What nature can teach you about change
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This week I caught myself looking for weight-loss tablets online. The ingredients were a mystery, but the promise was clear: a quick fix. That same morning, I ordered a fresh coffee because I couldn鈥檛 be bothered to brew one. Our addiction to painless results is dangerous.
When did working for what we want become intolerable?
Like many people, I promised I鈥檇 be a new human in 2025. Didn鈥檛 happen. Then Chinese New Year offered a second chance. Still nothing. Then March 1 ... We鈥檙e three months into the year, and I鈥檓 clawing for shortcuts.
We鈥檙e obsessed with immediacy. Food arrives within 30 minutes. Dating apps promise connections with a swipe. Fitness programs flaunt 鈥14-day body transformations.鈥 This constant exposure to immediate gratification has twisted our sense of how change happens.
The philosopher Byung-Chul Han wrote that we鈥檝e created a world that 鈥渆liminates all forms of negativity, everything that creates distance or delay.鈥 I agree.
Perhaps this avoidance of the difficult speaks to something deeper. The aversion to suffering itself. Jordan Peterson talks about this.
鈥淭he successful among us sacrifice now for the future. The unsuccessful sacrifice the future for now.鈥 he said.
When we pursue immediate gratification, we鈥檙e swapping future development for momentary comfort. But 鈥渘o pain, no gain鈥 isn鈥檛 just a gym clich茅. It鈥檚 recognition that meaningful achievement requires temporary suffering. And here鈥檚 the irony. We鈥檙e drawn to stories of struggle and perseverance.
A life without struggle is like watching a film with all the good bits cut out. We鈥檙e so focused on end results that we鈥檝e forgotten the messy, uncomfortable middle is why we watch. We celebrate the entrepreneur who failed repeatedly before success, the athlete who overcame devastating injury, and the artist who spent decades quietly perfecting their craft. Every compelling film or book relies on conflict and hardship to engage us. We鈥檇 never sit through a story where characters had it easy.
Yet in our own lives, we鈥檙e constantly seeking to skip these scenes. We want the triumph without the trials and the victory without the battles. We crave easy success stories for ourselves while being bored by them in others.
Our culture鈥檚 promise of painless transformation isn鈥檛 just a lie. It鈥檚 a thief. It robs us of the essential process in which difficulty turns into growth. When we understand that suffering is necessary rather than optional, we stop seeing discomfort as an obstacle and start seeing it as the answer.
I live a stone鈥檚 throw from Fuxing Park on the Nanchang Road side. Its trees have stood bare for months. But I know what鈥檚 coming. In a few weeks, their branches will burst with delicate pink blossoms. No amount of wishing makes them bloom any sooner. Their refusal to budge got me thinking. The solution to our impatience is happening right in front of us. Nature shows a more natural way to transform.
Think how bamboo grows. For up to five years, it develops an extensive underground root system with no visible growth. Then it shoots up to 91 centimetres in a day. What looked like overnight success is really the result of years of invisible preparation.
Inside a chrysalis, a caterpillar doesn鈥檛 simply sprout wings. It dissolves almost completely before reconstructing cell by cell. What appears dormant from the outside is a profound change happening on the inside.
We all have our own transformation story. Four years ago, I submitted my first column to this publication. Reading it now makes me wince a little, not because it was bad, but because I can see how my writing has evolved. That growth didn鈥檛 happen overnight, because it couldn鈥檛. Each week of putting words on the page, receiving feedback, failing and trying again laid groundwork for what eventually emerged.
My experience in therapy follows a similar pattern. When I began addressing trauma and mental health issues, I wanted a quick fix. I considered drowning in medication, numbing with alcohol or anything to circumvent hard work. I鈥檝e learned that becoming my healthier self requires time and deep commitment. Changes don鈥檛 come in dramatic revelations but in small moments of insight that build week by week.
The paradox is that our impatience prevents the transformation we seek. If you break open a chrysalis to 鈥渉elp鈥 a caterpillar along, you鈥檒l destroy its metamorphosis. A writer who demands brilliance with every sentence produces nothing at all. Our demand for immediate evidence of change destroys the delicate work happening beneath the surface.
While we all wait for cherry blossoms to appear, I鈥檓 trying a different approach with my own aspirations. Less forcing, more allowing. Less demanding, more trusting. The trees don鈥檛 worry whether their blossoms will appear, they simply continue drawing nutrients, strengthening roots and preparing for inevitable spring. They understand what we鈥檝e forgotten: Change doesn鈥檛 happen because we demand it, but because we patiently create the conditions that allow it.
This isn鈥檛 to glorify unnecessary suffering or dismiss genuine innovations that make life easier. But there鈥檚 a difference between avoiding needless pain and skipping necessary growth. No more quick fixes, shortcuts or hollow promises.
Nature has been at this a lot longer than we have. It鈥檚 time we follow her lead.鈥嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧嬧
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