I’ve been thinking about how brave babies and children are.
They keep going no matter how unsteady the path is. Toddlers fall — unashamedly — until they don’t. Completely invested in exploring and learning, they want nothing more than an audience to witness them on the way to becoming.
They keep going no matter how unsteady the path is. Toddlers fall — unashamedly — until they don’t. Completely invested in exploring and learning, they want nothing more than an audience to witness them on the way to becoming.
“Look at me! Watch this! Did you see that?”
Children want witnesses. Adults want cocoons. A place to disappear while we figure it out. A place to emerge only once we’re polished, fully glorious, fully worthy of awe.
I don’t know when or why that changes. Somewhere along the way, not knowing becomes something to hide. Being a beginner becomes something to quietly manage. We learn to struggle invisibly, as if becoming is meant to be done alone.Maybe it’s meant to protect us. Protection from embarrassment, maybe. But it also isolates us. It separates us from the encouragement and connection that actually help us grow.
The strange thing is, when I see someone learning something new, stepping into unfamiliar territory, I don’t judge them. I admire them. I think, wow, they’re brave. And then I think, I want to be braver.
Toddlers want witnesses to their becoming. Adults often want privacy in theirs. And yet, becoming was never meant to be solitary.
Maybe bravery isn’t about not falling. Maybe it’s letting yourself be seen while you fall.
Coaching question:
What would change if you allowed yourself to be witnessed while you are still becoming?
What would change if you allowed yourself to be witnessed while you are still becoming?
PS: I’m brave in at least one area where apparently few are — I’m absolutely fine dining alone in a restaurant. :)
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