Go Fly a Kite! Or Maybe Not?
One stunning afternoon I was staring out over the Mediterranean from a park bench in a tiny Italian beach town, drinking espresso and sunshine. A young boy on the beach — probably 8 years old — draws my attention. He’s struggling with a kite he seemingly found but has no idea how to fly.
Minutes pass without progress so I hop onto the sand to see if I can help.
He doesn’t seem to speak English or Italian, but he eagerly welcomes me into his tangled mess. I fiddle with the setup and eventually hand him the end of the string. I step a few meters away and hold the kite in launch position. I motion him down the beach and call out, “Vai! Vai!”
Fail.
“No, no…into the wind. L’altra direzione!”
This is clearly his first time with a kite. Over and over we try as we watch it momentarily ascend then instantly plummet to the sand. But he’s not dissuaded, so I stick with him.
I find a random piece of nylon and tie it to the kite’s tail. This helps a bit, but any type of sustained flight eludes us.
Finally, I motion to swap positions and I take the string. I hate taking control, but maybe I can model the technique. While not a master, I have a basic appreciation of wind direction, so I jog a few steps and up it goes.
And in that moment, something incredible happened.
Even today, I struggle to find words to describe the boy’s glee. He’s running in circles like a puppy, leaping into the air to take swipes at the tail as it zooms past his head; this way…then that way. It was magical.
I bring the kite down and hand him the string so he can give it a go. And we are right back where we started — nada. It’s not just the technique he lacks, but the burning light of enthusiasm dims noticeably the moment I hand him the string. After a few tries, he shuffles over to me and trades back.
I gaze at his pleading eyes, then do his bidding. I lunge toward the wind, tug on the string and the kite takes off. And with it, his pure, unadulterated joy. He’s giggling and dancing and reaching and jumping and kicking sand with every move. I am positively filled by his overflowing happiness.
This playful pattern continues until we both have to part. I bid him goodbye and ruffle his hair. He beams and waves excitedly with both hands as he bounces off with his mom.
As I pondered the whole scene, I had to admit: I was the one who assumed he wanted to fly the kite. But once I got out of my own head, I realized he just wanted the kite to fly.
I think we make similar fumbles all the time; at least I do. We assume anyone pretty much wants to work at the same things most other people seem to want to work at.
Everyone wants a college degree. Everyone wants to get married. Everyone wants to get promoted to management. Everyone wants to follow the pack. Everyone wants all the stuff the world says we should want.
Obviously, just like everyone would much rather fly a kite than chase its tail…?
But you are not everyone. I am not everyone. Those we influence…are not everyone. What do they want to work at? Or play with? Who do they really long to be? Do we know? Do they know?
When was the last time you asked someone what they wanted in life in a way that was eager to be surprised by — and supportive of — their response?
Admittedly, I find this easy to do with clients: they pay me to ask them hard questions to help them uncover what they really want. But for those that are closest to me? Sometimes I presume their answers before I’ve asked one authentic question.
Then without much forethought, I hand them the metaphoric string and urge them to “Run! Run!”
“No, into the wind. The other direction!”
(And then pretend like that doesn’t sound like chasing a tail…)
Dan Parodi is a badge-carrying executive coach. He writes on topics that emerge from client calls or related reflections to encourage others to pause and recalibrate. It’s easy to get distracted from the life-path we want, so hopefully these trigger deeper, personalized consideration…and maybe action?
