As a kid, I was a pretty serious
Goody Two-Shoes. I believed in
following the rules and doing my homework and not leafing through the Candyland
cards to find the one that got you to the end quickest. It worked. I am a reasonably successful adult with a sense of
responsibility.
I did, however, once steal a fire
engine, according to my mother. I
was maybe two or three, so I don’t actually remember the crime in
question. A kid in our neighborhood
had one, the kind you could sit in and pedal. The lust in my heart apparently led me to pedal it home and
tantrum because I eventually had to give it back. The punishment for this crime? I got my own fire engine.
A few years later, there was a
new chapter in the epic battle between my mom and me over my hair. We were running late for school. I hate to be late (see previous
declaration about Goody Two-Shoes, who is clearly always prompt.). I explained to my mother that I could
in fact go to school without combing my hair, but I could not go without
putting on my shoes. This logic
did not cut it with my mom. Then
again, she would go out naked before she would go out without lipstick, so I
expect she reasons from different premises. (I eventually learned to go to school both with combed hair
and shoes.) Discovering the
difference between actual rules and preferences or norms can be a painful
process, particularly if there are tangles involved.
The point is that rules are
useful, but breaking the rules can also be useful. We cannot be rigid and still grow. What rules are keeping us from blooming? Are they really rules? What are we so passionate about that we
are willing to make off with it from the neighbor’s driveway? How can we get our own?
