Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! … How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep? A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest—and poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man. Proverbs 6:6,9-11
Emerson’s universe fit on the screen of his laptop: twenty-three open tabs in his browser. There was a half-finished digital marketing course, an e-book on investments from which he never got past the first chapter, drafts of a freelance project for an impatient client, and, amidst it all, the real thieves of his time: social media, gaming forums, and streaming platforms.
He was a talented graphic designer with a keen eye for aesthetics. But his talent was buried under layers of inertia. His life was a series of enthusiastic beginnings and silent abandonments. “I’ll finish it tomorrow,” was his motto. “Just one more episode,” his daily sentence. He lived in a cycle of “a little sleep, a little slumber,” with his hands folded over the keyboard.
Outside his window, life pulsed. He would watch, with a pang of envy, the tireless movement of the city. From his ledge, he saw people like ants marching in a stubborn line, each one carrying a load greater than itself, moved by an invisible purpose. They were a spectacle of commitment that he admired but did not imitate.
Poverty, like a stealthy robber, began to break down the doors of his life. First, it was financial. The client for the freelance project, tired of excuses, canceled the contract. The rent was late. The credit card hit its limit.
But the cruelest poverty was of another kind. His desk, his “field,” was full of digital “thorns and nettles”: abandoned projects, unanswered emails, missed opportunities. The “stone wall” of his credibility was in ruins. Friends stopped recommending him for jobs. His own confidence in his ability began to erode.
Need, like an armed man, confronted him on a rainy Tuesday. The power in his apartment was cut off for non-payment. In the dark, with his laptop running on a dwindling battery, the silence was broken only by the sound of his stomach growling. There was nowhere left to run, no more “tomorrows.”
He sat on the cold floor and, for the first time, faced the reflection of his own negligence. No one was to blame. Not the economy, not the lack of opportunities. The fault lay in his choices, in his constant surrender to inertia. He had allowed invisible thieves—procrastination, distraction, lack of discipline—to steal his future, crumb by crumb.
That night, in the dark, he remembered the ants on his window. Their silent wisdom, their relentless work ethic.
The next morning, with what little battery he had left, he did not open social media. He opened a new document and wrote an email to his former client. He made no excuses. He just wrote: “I failed you and the project. I know it is late, but I would like to finish the work, at no cost, just to honor my word.”
The client, surprised, accepted.
It was the first step. Emerson began to rebuild the wall of his life, stone by stone. He started closing unnecessary tabs, focusing on one task at a time, finding satisfaction not in starting something new, but in finishing something old.
It was not a magical transformation. It was a daily, tiring battle against his own habits. But with each small victory, with each completed task, he felt his field being cleared. The thorns of procrastination were giving way to fertile soil, ready for a new sowing. Poverty had not disappeared, but the robber had been expelled from his house.
(Made with AI)
This story is part of my book Everyday Wisdom
https://books2read.com/u/3knogL
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