My daughter recently learnt how to ride a bicycle. I spent two weeks making her follow the basics, inspiring her to give up on the fear of falling. I had marked the first week to convince her that falling is how she will learn not to stay down. She should learn to get up and pedal again. It’s OK if you fall, you won’t cherish the efforts otherwise.
Once she had that thought imbibed, all I had to do was hold her and run along. I ran like crazy like I had not in ages. I ran, and then I ran some more. Until one fine morning when I let her loose and saw her pedal along. I jogged next to her, a proud smile on my face. In being a parent, I was reliving a phase of my childhood.
Yesterday, we rode our bicycles together with her alongside me when we came across a kid learning with training wheels. I could read her eyes wonder why didn’t I get those added wheels for balancing. I planned to tell her that it would have taken her longer to learn with that support attached. My mind was already racing along, talking to her, telling her.
The artificial sense of support holds you back, dear. Just like me running alongside you, never releasing you, will. I will always hold you back from riding away, from taking control of your path. I can make you aware of your fears, but it is you who has to surmount them.
However, she never asked. I never said. Maybe, she already knew.
What are the training wheels in your life - supporting you but thereby preventing you from taking the flight? Anyway, with that said, here is a selection of three brilliant works of writing.