Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
for they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and Life bends you with It’s might that It’s arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as Life loves the arrow that flies, so Life loves also the bow that is stable.
– The Prophet
This is a nice poetry that I picked out while reading. It speaks of individuals – mainly of parents to children. I think it can also be said to speak of growth, where one can teach, but one cannot dictate; one can encourage, but cannot enforce.
How miserable I have to do a 6km route march now. Will blog more when I can.