Watching Nate learn to swim showed me my own learning process in a way I had never experienced before. Seeing his utter fear of the unknown- what will it be like to put my face under water? what will happen when I step off this step? how will I be able to breath when I go under?- almost paralyze him in the beginning was gut wrenching. Seeing that he could relax in the arms of those he trusted, he could sit on the side and watch us 'swimmers' go under water and come back up, that he could 'practice' in the safety of the bathtub with just mama to watch, slowly, slowly, I saw that he was opening up to the idea of swimming in a real pool.
And then one day, seemingly overnight, he decided no more armies, jumped off the step, touched the bottom of the pool and swam to the surface with a smile. He needed time to just watch, to get comfortable with the idea of this new world of swimming and, when ready, he would just do it 100%.
Riding the bike was much the same way. Not interested in practicing, we would go out for a 15 second 'try' and come back inside. And again a week later. Repeat another week later. And then one day, without much fanfare, he just rode the darn thing.
I worry for him, as I know this process all too well. I know what it means to limit yourself for fear of trying- to always wonder 'what if-' because I want to do it just perfectly. From beginning to end. I don't want to learn how to make croissants, I just want to make a perfect croissant. I don't want to learn how to sew a dress, I just want a perfectly fitted dress.
Yet, I'm an educator. A really good one- who can break down the steps of anything in such a way that most anything can be comprehended by anyone. A woman who can help a child set goals, yet help him feel accomplished for what he is actually doing at this moment.
But how to 'teach' that same lesson to the mirror of my soul, my sweet baby boy?
I came across this quote from Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke and it was perfect. Exactly as I would hope for Nate to understand:
You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Perhaps you do carry within you the possibility of creating and forming, as an especially blessed and pure way of living; train yourself for that -- but take whatever comes, with great trust, and as long as it comes out of your will, out of some need of your innermost self, then take it upon yourself.A reminder to myself and to my boy...live in the uncertainty. Create, grow, be. It's far more amazing than scary.
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