In the 1984 film The Karate Kid, Ralph Machio's character, Daniel, and his mother had just moved

to Southern California from Jersey.

Finally settling into their modest apartment and being the new kid on the block, Daniel finds

himself the center of attention with a not so polite group of boys after having eyes

for a girl who just so happened to be the ex-girlfriend of one of them. Long story short,

the boys chase Daniel down to a fenced infield and give him a welcome to town kind of workover.

That is, until a Mr. Miyagi jumps in and doles out the karate chops,

giving the punks a much-deserved thrashing as he rescues Daniel and carries him safely home.

Miyagi, being a karate master who also just happened to be the handyman at Daniel's apartment complex,

who just happened to be around when Daniel was getting chapsuid. Happenstance? I don't know. But if you

haven't seen the original trilogy, it's worth the time. I mean, I was nine when I saw it, so I don't remember much,

but what the screenplay does get right are the key moments when life's lessons seem

pointless at the time, until you're suddenly dropped into an epicenter of chaos and your mind

goes into action without a second's hesitation.

Lessons in life are repeated until learned, it's been said.

Even if the practice is dreadfully boring, practice makes perfect.

Repetition is key, be it learning the piano or instilling life application skills,

like breathing techniques, we practice to prepare. We prepare to prevent. And we prevent

to persevere. Though if your sacred song of inspiration is wax on, wax off,

who am I to say, stick to what works best for you. But if I see you chasing flies with

chopsticks, we may have a problem. Sanding floors, painting fences, or yes, chop, sticking flies.

Oddly enough, there's a viable lesson we can take from this classic 80s film.

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