It's really not that complicated.

One chilly morning, a man woke up shivering. The fire in his hearth had burned out overnight, and the house was cold. He stretched, rubbing his arms for warmth, and went to check his firewood stack. To his dismay, it was completely empty. Without firewood, he couldn’t cook, nor could he keep the cold at bay.

With a sigh, he decided to head into the nearby forest to gather sticks. It was a long walk, but he had done it many times before. So, he pulled on his boots, wrapped a scarf around his neck, and set off.

After walking for hours, he stumbled upon a clearing where dry sticks lay scattered across the ground, perfect for firewood. A grin spread across his face. "This is great!" he thought, crouching to gather as many as he could hold in his arms.

But after just a few moments of collecting, an idea struck him. He paused, looking at the meager pile in his hands. “If I had bags,” he murmured, “I could carry so much more in one trip.”

The thought seemed brilliant, so without a second thought, he dropped the sticks and hurried back home. He rummaged through his belongings and found five large bags. Satisfied, he set off once more for the clearing.

By the time he returned, the sun was high in the sky. Without wasting time, he started filling the bags with sticks, stuffing them until they bulged. He wiped his brow, pleased with his progress. But then, another thought popped into his mind.

“What if I had boxes to put these bags in? That would make stacking them at home much easier.”

Convinced this was another stroke of genius, he left the bags where they were and made his way home yet again. This time, he gathered five sturdy wooden boxes and carried them back to the clearing.

The sun had now begun its descent, casting long shadows across the forest floor. He carefully placed each bag of sticks inside a box, adjusting them so they fit just right. But as he admired his work, another idea wormed its way into his mind.

“These would look much nicer if I tied them up with ribbons,” he mused.

And so, back home he went. He dug through his supplies until he found some colorful ribbons, then hurried back to the clearing. The sky was now painted with hues of orange and pink.

One by one, he tied neat bows around each box, stepping back to admire the neatness of his work. His chest swelled with satisfaction—until reality hit him.

The boxes, now packed and decorated, were far too heavy to carry. He hadn’t thought of that.

Frustrated, he racked his brain for a solution. “A wheelbarrow! That’s what I need.” But as he turned to leave once more, he noticed something—the sun was nearly gone. Night was falling fast.

“If I go now, I won’t make it back before dark,” he realized.

He slumped against a tree, exhaustion settling into his bones. He had spent the entire day planning and perfecting, yet he still had no firewood to take home.

Just then, another man passed by. He, too, needed firewood, but he had no bags, no boxes, and no ribbons. He simply bent down, gathered as many sticks as his arms could hold, and started heading home.

The first man watched in stunned silence as the stranger disappeared down the path.

All day, he had chased perfection, trying to make the process more efficient, more organized, more ideal. But in the end, all he had achieved was wasting time.

Shaking his head, he sighed and made a decision. He would leave the boxes for now and take what he could carry. He bent down, scooped up an armful of sticks, and started walking home.

This time, he would focus on what truly mattered—getting the fire started.

“Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.”

— Confucius