One of the folktales I remember my mom telling me when I was little was called “The Little Red Hen.” If you’re of a certain age, you probably recall the story.
But in case you don’t, here’s the Little Golden Book edition:
Once there was a Little Red Hen who lived in a barnyard with her three chicks and a Duck, a Pig, and a Cat.
One day the Little Red Hen found some grains of wheat. “Look, look!” she clucked. “Who will help me plant this wheat?”
“Not I,” quacked the Duck, and he waddled away.
“Not I,” oinked the Pig, and he trotted away.
“Not I,” mewed the Cat, and he padded away.
“Then I will plant it myself,” said the Little Red Hen.
And she did.
The story continues with 4 more questions:
Who will help me cut the wheat?
“Not I.”
“Not I.”
“Not I.”
Who will help me take the wheat to the miller so he can grind it into flour?
“Not I.”
“Not I.”
“Not I.”
Who will help me make this flour into dough?
“Not I.”
“Not I.”
“Not I.”
Who will help me bake the bread?
“Not I.”
“Not I.”
“Not I.”
In each case, the Little Red Hen responds with “Then I will do it myself” and proceeds to do just that.
The very last question in the book is “Who will help me eat this warm, fresh bread?”
“I will!”
“I will!”
“I will!”
And the Little Red Hen says…….. “No. I will eat it myself.”
I know the point of the story is some version of “You reap what you sow.” Which might be true.
I know my mom read it to us because she wanted us to willingly and happily help each other. Which might be noble.
I know there is much debate about whether the Little Red Hen should or should not have shared the fruits of her labors. Which might be valid.
But I have always had an inkling that there is something more in this story.
What if we could also see in it a lesson about the Little Red Hen’s will.
Author Christian List says that “free will merely requires three related abilities: the ability to think up multiple possible alternatives for action, to pick one of them, and to start doing it.”
The Little Red Hen did that beautifully. She thought up many possibilities for that wheat. She picked the one that spoke to her. And she started doing it.
Kennon Sheldon, Ph.D., explains the same thing about our will: Some “brain function research … shows that generating and deciding between options is a very advanced capability within [our] brains. This capacity lets us imagine and simulate various possible futures we might approach, select the one we most prefer, and then get to work.”
So what stops us? What stops us from modeling the Little Red Hen? From picking one of the possible alternatives we wish for our future and then getting to work?
Turns out, a lot of things stop us.
Rick Rubin offers a few:
- We believe we’re not good enough
- We feel we don’t have the energy it takes
- We just don’t want to do the work
- We have goals so ambitious that we can’t begin
- We think we can only do our best work in certain conditions
- We require specific tools or equipment to do the work
- We abandon our project as soon as it gets difficult
- We feel like we need some sort of permission to start or to move forward
- We let a perceived need for funding, [direction], or support get in the way
- We have too many ideas and don’t know where to start
- We blame circumstances or other people for interfering with our [progress] or our process
- We believe a certain mood or state is necessary to do our best work
- We prioritize other activities and responsibilities over our commitment to the work
- We get distracted and we procrastinate
- We are impatient
- We think that anything that’s out of our control is in our way
The Little Red Hen I heard about as a child didn’t let ANY of those things stop her.
That’s what I’ve decided to find in her story.
I can’t wait to hear how you are using your will to channel your own Little Red Hen energy. I got to help a couple of my clients this week with that exact thing. I’d love to help you, too.
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