Life is about mastering the art of overcoming the misstep

I suppose by the strictest view, there are three kinds of parenting when it comes to risk-taking.

Please don't ever take any, risks are where danger lives.

Or, don't worry about danger, there's no such thing.

Or, lastly, some approach in between.

This week, I feel assured the boys fall in that someplace in between.

Whether climbing mounds of rocks to take the perfect photograph, or scaling down slippery gorges and over limbs to get to the magic fishing hole, I've watched the boys apply appropriate caution while having their eyes focused full steam ahead on their immediate dreams.

Because that's where dreams lives, where really living comes to life, somewhere between eyes wide open to every possible problem and eyes closed to the possibility that problems exist at all.

Life is not about perfection. It's not about finding the fail-proof or danger-proof path. If you believe that path exists, you are currently and possibly hopelessly stuck in the trap of an endless pursuit.

You are currently living an offshoot of death.

In fact, at this dad's age, one thing I've come to feel sure of is that life is far more about mastering the art of overcoming the screw ups than it is mapping out the course that avoids them.

If I were to make a list of all the things I've lived out perfectly in life, and another of all of the things I've screwed up, let me just conservatively say that the screw up list is a few tens of thousands of entries longer than the perfection list.

But here's the big thing about that. Here's the truth bomb. If I had to throw one of the lists away, it would be that perfection list. The perfection list has shaped little in me. It's taught me almost nothing.

But that screw up list - what a gold mine. It's at the heart of all that I get to do professionally these days. It's at the heart of all that I get to sit and write about each morning. It's at the heart of so many of the next steps I take in my life.

I have not mastered the art of overcoming the screw up, but I'm getting there.

Are there missteps I sometimes wish I hadn't taken?

Certainly. But would I have ever figured that out with actually taking the misstep?

Probably not.

I've never told my boys I don't want them to make the mistakes I've made in life. And I never will. Mainly because I don't want them to live afraid of my mistakes. Or theirs. I simply tell them what I've learned in the process of overcoming mine. Take that to your next step.

I tell them that and hope they proceed with caution, but never with so much caution that they become afraid of finding a way to proceed.

Parenting is a tough deal. Maybe the toughest part is you never get confirmation that you perfected it or that you totally screwed it up. The signs always point to some outcome in between.

But this parent finds deep satisfaction and hope and maybe a little cautious optimism watching my boys march into the land of possible missteps this week.

March and discover, that's where their dreams live.

March and remind me, that's where mine live too.