A Baby Elephant

Imagine yourself in, say Topeka, Kansas, 1938. The circus is in town, and out in a fallow corn field you see a huge beast of an elephant. You stare into her eyes. You do this long enough that something in the back of your mind panics as you realize “my God, this mammoth could break free and trample the whole crowd if she wanted to. We wouldn’t stand a chance.” But the elephant just stares passively back.

Your fear is not eased by the appearance of passivity. Nor is it eased by what you see as its restraints. The elephant has a simple rope tied around its ankle. No thicker than the rope your papa uses with the cattle. The rope is tied to a wooden stake, driven into the hardpan. You think to yourself that you and your buddy could probably tug of war that sucker right out of the ground. There is no reassurance there. How is it holding this monstrosity in place?

The answer is standing right next to this long trunked colossus. Jumbo has an adorable little Dumbo. And around that baby elephant’s ankle you see the same rope. This being 1938 and you not having a smartphone to distract you, you sit and watch the elephants for a while. Every twenty moments or so the baby elephant yanks and yanks on the rope with childish exuberance. The stake does not budge, neither does mama.

Then it dawns on you. The baby elephant is learning that the stake cannot be defeated. It gives up trying before it gets the strength to learn otherwise. That behemoth casting the long shadow on baby learned she was not capable at a time she was not capable. So she has gone through life believing she is not capable.

It begs some questions:

What were the ropes that were tied around your young ankles? Who are the circus owners in your life? Who is benefiting from your continued disbelief in your abilities? How can you break free from bondage with one sharp yank? What stops you?