Years ago, I was watching two girls flying their kites on the beach. It was a blustery day in the Christmas holidays, still warm despite the wind, the sun slipping away from the long day and the pale moon already showing itself in the fading sky. It was a good time to be sitting on the sand and musing about the drama being played out in front of me.
One girl had her kite on a very short string. Her sister launched it into the air for her and it rose abruptly but then moved quite erratically in the wind, straining against the string. Soon one of its wild ‘zags’ would not have time to recover before the colourful fabric flapped as it dived abruptly and flopped onto the sand. Both girls became impatient. They changed places, the taller sister taking over as the launcher, but both became visibly irritated at having to re-launch the kite over and over again. After a short discussion, they lost patience, packed her kite up and left the sand.
Further down the beach, the other girl went through a similar routine at first. Launch and dive, launch and dive again. An older man, probably her grandfather encouraged her to keep going, but she motioned for him to walk backwards, letting out the string as he walked. Soon she had her kite on a long string. As the man thrust the kite into the sky she ran hard to keep the string taut. It took a few false starts to keep it flying, but soon it rose quickly and immediately it was a little steadier than the kite on a short string had been. When the wind gusted, and the kite weaved wildly, the girl actually let out a little more string and the kite easily corrected itself. Soon it was flying high, impressing the watchers with elaborate sweeps and graceful loops even as the wind became blustery and powerful. The girl and her grandfather stayed on the beach until the light had almost gone and the kite was reeled reluctantly to earth.
They were back the next day, and the next, playing out the same scene. Their delight with the soaring kite never seemed to diminish. Then, on the fourth day, just as one of the kite’s majestic sweeps reached its zenith, the string broke.
The kite soared even higher, freed from the earth and rising higher and higher until it was almost lost in the darkening heavens. Grandfather turned to the girl, expecting her to be despondent, only to see her jumping up and down with excitement and waving as the colourful scrap kept rising in the summer sky. She waved until it was out of sight, then left the beach, arm in arm with her grandfather, face beaming and exclaiming with joy.
Would that we were all so wise: that as parents and teachers and leaders we were brave enough to manage those we love or supervise on a string long enough for them to take flight. Often, we don’t. Often, we tether our children or our protégés with a string so tight that they are unable to soar. Anxious for their safety, we limit and control, not heeding the inevitable boundaries that we impose on their lives or work.
The lessons of the little girl on the beach are clear and uncomplicated. Those we care about and depend upon need room to flourish. When they chafe at their restraints, it is almost always a signal to pay out the string and allow them room to soar. And when, inevitably, the string breaks and they fly unrestrained into their own orbit, we too should exclaim with delight; waving excitedly as they begin their independent journey.
