Who expects a one-year-old to know more than a five-year-old, a 10-year-old to learnderstand as much as an 18-year-old or a 20-year-old to have accomplished as much as a 40-year-old?
The older we get, the more the momentum of growing should propel us to higher awareness of self and more complete usage of capabilities. This positive correlation frequently turns negative, right around the time we begin to think we're grown.
For the first 18-22 years, most of us move away from parental support towards independence; but once we crossover into adulthood years, we move towards dependence on societal systems rather than personal resources.
The mis-education we've been receiving all along finally gathers its own steam and does what it is intended to do - put us on a course of diminishing returns rather than expanding possibilities.
One morning, I was given the ability to vote, buy alcohol and make all my own decisions. A variety pack of rights was handed to me just because I was a few hours older. I went to sleep with limitations and woke up without boundaries. In those eighteenth-birthday moments, I felt superhuman. I could now construct my life the way I wanted. I also felt relief for having survived the wait. Then came a rush of excitement from realizing I had full-grown rights without the pressure to hurry up and be fully grown. I was an independent dependent.
Many early decisions were restless rebellions against the discipline imposed on youthfulness by parents, teachers, society and broke-itis. I was going to rectify all of this in just 4 years compared to the previous 18 that still left me wanting. I rushed ninety mountain miles away to discover a new world of out of sight freedom at college. I graduated, found work, earned more debt, paid bills, made babies and wasted “my” money. I proved I could make it on my own, do whatever I chose, whenever I chose and in any crazy way I chose. Still without the proper initiation into adulthood, trials by wildfire ensued.
The basic wisdom of “a hard head makes a soft butt,” didn't register until well after my behind was fully tenderized. In between the mostly avoidable bumps and bruises, the same lesson kept repeating. Once I began listening, especially to my spirit, maturity also began. I realized I wasn't grown-up at all because I did not welcome the discipline required to make my own decisions. The lesson then became clear. Discipline is freedom. Freedom is never free because it comes with responsibility. I somehow missed this point the first several times through the fire.
I began to embrace discipline in my quest to become better. I decided to accept responsibility for my fear. That one decision has been more powerful than feeling superhuman. It unlocked the cell of concern containing what other people think and do. I began to study. I stopped focusing on earning a living and started focusing on returning to living. I reconnected with the natural world I descended through. So much more is now possible.
There is richness in an appreciation for life and its privileged responsibilities. If I'm going to contribute what I was born to contribute, I will always need discipline. Once again I'm using the same resources I've always had but pushed aside on my way out the door. I'm finally growing freely.
Starting With Seeds Of Resources And Becoming A Positive Force That Directs Change