Nearly every morning on the bus, there is a young mom with her three daughters. Most of the time the daughters sit in their seats, giggle, or talk. Once in a while, one or another of the younger two will have a bit of a meltdown. This morning such was the case. Mom’s first response was the look. It worked for a while, but said daughter needed a bit more of mom’s control, so mom walked to the daughter’s seat, picked her up, and sat her in direct contact. Within seconds, the daughter calmed herself and regained her composure. Crying stopped.
Freedom only comes with control, the steps steadied by wisdom gained through years lived. Without the tracks, the train is stopped. Without the mom, the daughter is out the door and in the street. Without the studied rationale, the giant thesis is a mash of gathered bits, with no point.