Squish, Just Like Grape

Volume 135

As a child of the 1980s, The Karate Kid holds a special place in my heart. Perhaps it’s because I saw just a little of myself in the protagonist, Daniel LaRusso. Like Daniel, I was slight of stature and occasionally got my ass handed to me on the school playground. And, like Daniel, I also turned to martial arts as a way to help build confidence and learn to stand up for myself.

Unfortunately, our story diverges there. I did not win the All Valley Tourney. Nor did I have an inspirational coach like the incomparable Mr. Miyagi.

In one of many memorable scenes in The Karate Kid that I still quote all these years later, Mr. Miyagi sets Daniel down and ensures that he is committed to learning karate.

“Daniel-san, must talk. Walk on road. Walk right side, safe. Walk left side, safe. Walk middle, sooner or later, [makes squish gesture] get squish, just like grape.

Here karate, same thing. Either you karate do, yes, or karate do, no. You karate do, guess so, [makes squish gesture] just like grape.”

Too often, I see people try to “middle” things by hedging their bets and avoiding making a decision.

This middling approach is totally reasonable.

Committing (to a person or a path) is scary.

Worrying about making the wrong decision is normal.

Setting goals forces us to confront the fact that we may not achieve them.

But middling things rarely works in the long term. In the end, you have to pick a side. You’re either in or out.

Author Mark Manson applies this same advice to dating. It’s either “Fuck yes or no.” No in-between. When we’re talking about important things—like relationships—this clarity is critical.

Same thing if we want to accomplish anything great; we can’t middle it. As Ron Swanson shares in the TV show Parks and Recreation, “Don’t half-ass anything. Whatever you do, use your whole ass.”

Part of the problem is that too often, we don’t actually take the time to figure out what is worth actually committing to. When I assign my clients homework to write a future vision for themselves, a decent portion resist. They hem and haw on submitting a rough draft to me.

They are scared of committing to a written narrative of what they want to be true down the road because it requires them to commit to a path. “What if I’m wrong?,” they ask.

So what? You might be wrong. But mindful commitment to a defined course will leave you much better off then half-hearted pursuit of an indeterminate path.

What’s the last thing you committed to?

Art by Beau Gordon