Run Freely (A Lesson About Courage)

One afternoon, many years ago, I went to pick up my mother from
work. I got there a little early so I parked the car by the
curb, across the street from where she worked, and waited for
her.

As I looked outside the car window to my right, there was a
small park where I saw a little boy, around one and a half to
two years old, running freely on the grass as his mother watched
from a short distance. The boy had a big smile on his face as if
he had just been set free from some sort of prison. The boy
would then fall to the grass, get up, and without hesitation or
without looking back at his mother, run as fast as he could,
again, still with a smile on his face, as if nothing had
happened.

At that moment, I thought to myself, “Why aren’t most adults
this way?” Most adults, when they fall down (figuratively
speaking), make a big deal out of it and don’t even make a
second attempt. They would be so embarrassed that someone saw
them fall that they would not try again. Or, because they fell,
they would justify to themselves that they’re just not cut out
for it. They would end up too afraid to attempt again for fear
of failure.

However, with kids (especially at an early age), when they fall
down, they don’t perceive their falling down as failure, but
instead, they treat it as a learning experience (as just another
result/outcome). They feel compelled to try and try again until
they succeed. (The answer must be...they have not associated
"falling down" with the word "failure" yet, thus they don’t know
how to feel the state which accompanies failure. As a result,
they are not disempowered in any way. Plus, they probably think
to themselves that it’s perfectly okay to fall down, that it’s
not wrong to do so. In other words, they give themselves
permission to make mistakes, subconsciously. Thus they remain
empowered.)

While I was touched by the boy’s persistence, I was equally
touched by the manner in which he ran. With each attempt, he
looked so confident...so natural. No signs of fear, nervousness,
or of being discouraged—as if he didn’t give a care about the
world around him. His only aim was to run freely and to do it as
effectively as he could. He was just being a child—just being
himself—being completely in the moment. He was not looking for
approval or was not worrying about whether someone was watching
or not. He wasn’t concerned about being judged. He didn’t seem
to be bothered by the fact that maybe someone would see him fall
(as there were others in the park aside from him and his mother)
and that it would be embarrassing if he did fall. No, all that
mattered to him was to accomplish the task or activity at hand
to the best of his ability. To run...and to feel the experience
of running fully and freely.

I learned a lot from that observation and experience, and have
successfully brought that lesson with me in my many pursuits in
life. Since then, I’ve always believed that in each of us is a
little child with absolute courage. A child that has the ability
to run freely (or express himself fully and freely)—without a
care for anything external—without a care for what people would
say if he/she experiences a fall.

I believe that that courageous part of us, that courageous child
within us all, will always be with us for as long as we live. We
only need to allow it to emerge more fully. We only need to once
again connect with that child within us—and give that child
permission to run freely, just like that boy in the park.

About the Author

Gabriel Daniels publishes Confidence & Courage Tips...To Help You
Realize Your Dreams. For more tips, strategies, stories,
quotes, and more...to empower and inspire you to take action...
so you can get what you want out of life, visit his website at: http://confidencetips.blogspot.com (For article reprint
details, please check the website’s License Information section.)