Lessons from Little Children

I saw something very...instructive today. And my instruction revolved around a little girl -- about, say, 2 years old. Much like any other 2 year old little girl that you'd see anywhere: smiling sometimes, wide-eyed other times, insatiably curious, freely and enjoyably making sounds ("wheeeeeee" and "blop blop blop" and so on) that make 2 year olds 2 year olds. You could say that this little girl was pretty much exactly like any other 2 year old girl in the world -- except for one thing. She relied on a walker to help her move.

For those who aren't familiar with a walker (or may call it something else), it's one of those devices that help people, who don't have the strength or balance to put weight on their legs, to move -- to walk. Unlike a cane, a walker needs both hands. It's kind of like holding on to a small, half-sized shopping cart without wheels. I'm sure you know what I mean, even though it's a bit hard to describe in words.

Now, here's the thing that I found so remarkably instructive (such that it inspired me to want to share it with you today).

This little girl seemed -- and I'm certain that she was -- utterly oblivious to the fact that she needed a walker to get around. That is, she was utterly uninterested in her walker. She wasn't miserable, she wasn't resenting, and given that she was 2 years old (or maybe even 1 and a half), it's also certain that she doesn't care about her walker. Or, in fact, it's much more likely that she likes her walker -- much in the way 2 year olds "like" the vacuum cleaner or "like" the TV, and authentically engage these things and, really, treat them with respect and friendship (I know a 2 year old who kisses, hugs and says "good night" to the blue hippopotamus at the nearby children's park -- and she means it).

Now, there's more to this story -- here's where it gets really interesting.

As adults came into "sight" of this wonderful, happy little girl, I could see -- because I was watching, because that's what I do -- that this is precisely what came into their minds as they saw this girl: oh that poor little girl.

I'm CERTAIN. And I'm not being critical or unfair; I don't think that these adults deliberately thought this thought; I think it was automatic -- it just zapped into their mind. And you could see a wave of pity -- not sympathy, but pity -- float across their expressions. They felt sorry for the little girl and her walker-needing life. Some of the adults even looked embarrassed -- as if they didn't want to be seen to be staring, with pity, at this little girl. Most people looked away, but then later, looked back to get another glimpse of the sad little girl with the even sadder walker.

I'm not here to say that this 2 year old girl was enlightened; that she was somehow in a kind of awakened state of acceptance with her physical limitations. Obviously, this little girl doesn't even KNOW that she has a physical limitation -- so to ascribe to her a Buddha-like level of tolerance and acceptance is unfair and quite wrong, really.

What was instructive, though, was that this little girl's quality of life was simply not "filtered through" her limitation. She did not define her reality through the lens of her limitation. She was not a physically handicapped child enjoying her life. She was enjoying her life. She was proving -- with her very existence -- that life can easily be enjoyed regardless of limitations.

Of course, this little girl will grow up...and society will start to remind her, in many many many different ways - some direct, some indirect, some harsh, some not -- that she is "physically handicapped." And, regrettably, this happy little girl may start to view her life through that lens -- much the way survivors of some kind of abuse or catastrophe start to, habitually, view their life as a response to that event. They claim to be "cured" or have "survived" it, but it still follows them around like a shadow that doesn't need the sun. The very paradigm of their life is seen through that event -- through that limitation.

In your life, there are limitations. It doesn't matter who you are, where you live, or what you do. You may be a millionaire -- you may not. You may be perfectly healthy -- or not. Or whatever. You have limitations -- that is the nature of being human. Some of those limitations are specific to you; others to where you live, or other factors that have nothing, personally, to do with you.

However, these limitations are not as powerful as you may think they are; and, perhaps, as you would like them to be. Your happiness -- your choice to be happy -- is not linked to your limitations.

That little girl hasn't discovered her limitations yet; she doesn't need to. She's doing just fine.

It's the adults who need to re-program.