What is a significant experience that has impacted you?
My Failure to Launch
A child like no other, I dreamed. I hungrily took Disney's words to heart as my wandering imagination found solace inside the world of fantasy. To my delight, the tales of princesses, wizards, and dwarfs opened up a world of possibilities and promised me the sky as my only limit. My imagination became a foundation upon which my life rested.
After my first glimpse into Peter Pan and Wendy's wingless flight, I grasped an opportunity to challenge the sky. Inquisitive and stubborn, I set out to prove what every seven-year-old held dear in heart as I ventured a flight powered by faith, trust, and a little pixie dust. To my surprise, it was that fateful autumn day when the chapter of my childhood fantasies came to an end. My flight intended toward Never-land instead landed me headfirst into reality.
Once again, I looked out the window. Once again, I saw the fluttering wings of birds near the horizon. But this time, I whispered to my sleeping parents, "I'm flying to Never-land today." I began frantically rummaging the house, looking for what I believed retained the power to make me fly. By the time I was through, the house was in shambles. Had my parents not been fast asleep, my wings of childhood fantasy would have been stripped from me at that moment.
While I clumsily held my wand in one hand and my trusty can of baking powder-scribbled pixie dust-in the other, I climbed valiantly to the top of my tallest tower; in reality, that tower was merely a cabinet with a height not far above the floor. Afraid that a pinch of pixie dust would have no effect, I dabbed myself with several handfuls of baking powder. I was going to fly. Looking down at the floor triumphantly, I jumped. For a moment while I hovered in the air, I was ecstatic. But it only took seconds before I fell into the hands of gravity. CRACK! I had landed with a pair of wings and a heart broken beyond repair.
It took over eleven stitches before my fantasizing came to an end. Fairy tales that had nurtured my wandering imagination as well as my creativity ceased to engross me to the degree they had in days before. As one fairy tale after another revealed its true nature, I found myself lost in my sense of direction. Although my physical scars from the fall soon disappeared, the inward scar of bitter disappointment remained. That fall stripped the wings of identity that I had fashioned for myself and left me barriers and obstacles that I had never recognized.
Fortunately, my fall became a stepping-stone rather than a setback. After that day, real challenges began to interest me more. After the imaginary victories brought about by the fairy godmother lost their power of enchantment, I became absorbed in the stories of real people, real success, and real accomplishment. The fascination of Peter Pan gave way to the keen interest in Magellan's sea explorations, Helen Keller's biography, the undaunted adventures of mountain climbers, and the Martin Luther King Jr.'s fight for racial equality.
Nearly a decade later my intellectual epiphany, I've grown to regard my young attempt at idealism with awe, rather than contempt and ridicule. "A Man's imagination is nothing more than the ability to rearrange the things he or she has observed in reality" (Rand, "The Metaphysical versus the Man-Made", Philosophy: Who Needs It, pg. 25). And as a facet of reality, my young imagination was not a foolish faculty for just escaping reality, but a faculty for rearranging the elements of reality to seek what I wanted out of life. After my own discovery as the victim and a benefactor of idealism, I believe I am now better equipped to utilize my imagination to rearrange and challenge traditionally set values in our society.
My childhood fantasies made time pass. Accordingly, time made my childhood fantasies pass. Ironically, my failure to launch into the world of Peter Pan triggered my intellectual and physical growth. Although I have shut the window to only glimpse into the world of Peter Pan, I will dare to fly again. Leaving the stage of blind faith and folly behind, I will fly now with reason and talent as the wind beneath my wings. Some say one of the first great advances in the process of intellectual maturation is taking a step towards harsh reality. With the taste of
baking powder on my lips, my experience was quite different.
I jumped into that face of reality instead.
My Failure to Launch
A child like no other, I dreamed. I hungrily took Disney's words to heart as my wandering imagination found solace inside the world of fantasy. To my delight, the tales of princesses, wizards, and dwarfs opened up a world of possibilities and promised me the sky as my only limit. My imagination became a foundation upon which my life rested.
After my first glimpse into Peter Pan and Wendy's wingless flight, I grasped an opportunity to challenge the sky. Inquisitive and stubborn, I set out to prove what every seven-year-old held dear in heart as I ventured a flight powered by faith, trust, and a little pixie dust. To my surprise, it was that fateful autumn day when the chapter of my childhood fantasies came to an end. My flight intended toward Never-land instead landed me headfirst into reality.
Once again, I looked out the window. Once again, I saw the fluttering wings of birds near the horizon. But this time, I whispered to my sleeping parents, "I'm flying to Never-land today." I began frantically rummaging the house, looking for what I believed retained the power to make me fly. By the time I was through, the house was in shambles. Had my parents not been fast asleep, my wings of childhood fantasy would have been stripped from me at that moment.
While I clumsily held my wand in one hand and my trusty can of baking powder-scribbled pixie dust-in the other, I climbed valiantly to the top of my tallest tower; in reality, that tower was merely a cabinet with a height not far above the floor. Afraid that a pinch of pixie dust would have no effect, I dabbed myself with several handfuls of baking powder. I was going to fly. Looking down at the floor triumphantly, I jumped. For a moment while I hovered in the air, I was ecstatic. But it only took seconds before I fell into the hands of gravity. CRACK! I had landed with a pair of wings and a heart broken beyond repair.
It took over eleven stitches before my fantasizing came to an end. Fairy tales that had nurtured my wandering imagination as well as my creativity ceased to engross me to the degree they had in days before. As one fairy tale after another revealed its true nature, I found myself lost in my sense of direction. Although my physical scars from the fall soon disappeared, the inward scar of bitter disappointment remained. That fall stripped the wings of identity that I had fashioned for myself and left me barriers and obstacles that I had never recognized.
Fortunately, my fall became a stepping-stone rather than a setback. After that day, real challenges began to interest me more. After the imaginary victories brought about by the fairy godmother lost their power of enchantment, I became absorbed in the stories of real people, real success, and real accomplishment. The fascination of Peter Pan gave way to the keen interest in Magellan's sea explorations, Helen Keller's biography, the undaunted adventures of mountain climbers, and the Martin Luther King Jr.'s fight for racial equality.
Nearly a decade later my intellectual epiphany, I've grown to regard my young attempt at idealism with awe, rather than contempt and ridicule. "A Man's imagination is nothing more than the ability to rearrange the things he or she has observed in reality" (Rand, "The Metaphysical versus the Man-Made", Philosophy: Who Needs It, pg. 25). And as a facet of reality, my young imagination was not a foolish faculty for just escaping reality, but a faculty for rearranging the elements of reality to seek what I wanted out of life. After my own discovery as the victim and a benefactor of idealism, I believe I am now better equipped to utilize my imagination to rearrange and challenge traditionally set values in our society.
My childhood fantasies made time pass. Accordingly, time made my childhood fantasies pass. Ironically, my failure to launch into the world of Peter Pan triggered my intellectual and physical growth. Although I have shut the window to only glimpse into the world of Peter Pan, I will dare to fly again. Leaving the stage of blind faith and folly behind, I will fly now with reason and talent as the wind beneath my wings. Some say one of the first great advances in the process of intellectual maturation is taking a step towards harsh reality. With the taste of
baking powder on my lips, my experience was quite different.
I jumped into that face of reality instead.
