Blog article by Nic Beveridge
I know things.
I know that green means go, red means stop. And yellow is the one in between.
I know that cows go ‘moo’ and sweet potatoes are delicious.
Oh, and I also know that you shouldn’t help a chick hatch from an egg, because you could kill it.
I can’t remember how I learnt the things I know today. I guess it’s not always important. Probably more so the application of how and when you execute the things you know in a situation.
I enjoy hearing what someone is working towards. Mainly because I like seeing when and how they achieve it.
Maybe it was an emotional reaction, or maybe I was just folly, but if there was something I thought I could do to help out when they were first getting started, to help them clear a barrier – I would.
I don’t do that anymore.
Not because the effort I’d go to wouldn’t lead anywhere, but because I realised I was damaging their goal. Sometimes killing it.
Everyone learns at different speeds, and has varied levels of discernment. Some people are cognitively advanced – capable of seeing a scenario in their head and deconstructing roundabout steps to attempt to get there. Others know where they want to get to, but take some time to learn what those steps need to be.
I started reading about the process a chick takes when it hatches, because other than knowing it’s often detrimental to the wellbeing of the animal to help it (unless done heedfully) I know nothing else about it.
After reading what I could find, I now know that some chicks can pip the egg and hatch within a few hours, others can take up to 24 hours. Others may never see the outside of their shell.
How can one break through, but not another? It sounds cruel. Inhumane even. But a similar process happens all the time – with everything.
A person can have an idea. Discover a passion for something. Want to attempt something in their life sorely.
But do nothing.
They never pip their passion’s shell – whether the reason is lack of strength, belief or circumspect, I’m not sure. I guess it varies. All you hear is noise from within the shell, but nothing ever materialises.
Others start the process, but when it gets hard they’ll stop. Apparently if a chick is taking too long to hatch, the membrane from within can dry and become sticky, making the whole experience more laborious.
While others just keep chipping away at the shell.
The last time I realised I shouldn’t intervene in someone’s goal hatching process was almost two years ago.
I’d listened for a few months about how they wanted to do pole vault and see how good they could be at it. As someone who likes to keep to them self, I usually avoid asking exhaustive questions. One day I decided I didn’t want to sit by and listen to it anymore, I wanted to see them make it happen, so I asked “what’s stopping you from doing it?”
What was the barrier, the metaphorical shell, keeping what they wanted to do encased. I wanted to know why they hadn’t been able to pip their passion’s shell.
Apparently they couldn’t locate a coach prepared to teach and train an older starter. So the next day I phoned the athletic state institution relevant to our area and enquired about how to find a coach. I followed the information provided and within two days had a list of three coaches for this person to choose from. I handed it over to them and felt good. I felt like I’d done the right thing. As in now, they’d be able to chip away at the rest of the shell themselves.
Two weeks later I saw this person again, and asked how it was all going. They lasted two sessions and quit.
They didn’t like it. They didn’t like they couldn’t just clear a bar with a pole straight away, that they had to keep doing all of these repetitive exercises to train their muscles to perform in a way so they could do it. Ultimately, they said it was boring.
I know things, and you know things. What we know is all relative to the experiences we’ve acquired.
I know that not everyone will hatch an idea, or passion into reality. Some will try and for whatever reason, not make it all the way through. Others will make it out of their shell and thrive. I don’t need to intervene, because they will either try and succeed, try and fall short or they won’t try at all.
An interesting point I found out – a side note I guess – is that people who are capable of assisting a chick hatch, won’t even consider intervening if the chick hasn’t at least pipped the shell itself.
I now know about the hatching process, because I know things.