Every time I open the sweet children's book "A Tale of Five Balloons," I ask myself what the secret of its magic is, or perhaps what the secret of the magic of this age that can so often be overcome by a pure experience of complete loss and partial comfort. Because in a special storytelling technique I have developed over the years, I just start the sentence and my lovely daughter continues it herself, orally of course. I have free time left to think about this children's story, which was suddenly much more relevant for us, the adults.
So like this: ""Ruthie's mother brought a gift, joy and happiness, a balloon for each child, Uri a green balloon, Ron a yellow balloon, Ruthie a blue balloon, Sigalit a purple balloon, and Alon a red balloon. All the children and all the balloons went on a trip.".
The story as a children's story is apparently completely disconnected from the world of adults, otherwise it is incomprehensible how this event passes in silence, how Ruthie the daughter receives a balloon with a blue 'boy' color, while Alon the son enjoys a red one? How do you even distribute things and everyone is happy about them without "why did he get this one and I only got this one"? This story should turn on a red light in the parents of the story's heroes: this group of children is apparently doomed to a life of exploitation and loss, if each of them is able to rejoice in exactly what they were given...
Life as a resource
The first insight that emerges from the story is about a balloon as a metaphor for life or life as a resource. A cheerful group of children set out with the same resource, a balloon. Although of a different color, it is still a balloon. The interesting thing is that each of the children used the resource differently, the happiest of all of course being Uri. ""Uri was happy, ran and jumped, threw the green balloon up high, threw and caught, threw and caught, the green balloon fell on a rose bush and got stuck - and suddenly boom, what happened? The balloon exploded, the balloon burst, don't be sorry Uri.....
Uri actually receives a resource and immediately realizes it, he is content with it as it is, in its exact size. He does not save it for later, and is not so afraid for its future. He simply plays the game of throw and enjoys every moment of it. But the world is full of risks, the balloon, almost as expected, does indeed encounter a thorn and bursts, first before everyone else.
Uri remembers a beautiful experience that quickly faded. The interesting thing is that his friend Alon also played with the balloon, in a more controlled way, he enjoyed it but didn't go all out, he didn't run and jump and throw the balloon. He simply held it. But even controlled use has an end, like every experience in our lives, and the wind that took Alon's balloon made sure to remind us all of this rule.
Which of the two children is more intelligent? The reader will judge.
Uncontrolled excellence
The second boy in the story is Ron, ""The children met Ron's father. Ron was happy and said, Dad - blow up the yellow balloon for me, so that it will be as big as your head, as big as the sun. Dad blew up the balloon, blew up and blew up, and suddenly boom, what happened? The balloon exploded, the balloon burst.".
Here too, there are two levels, our constant longing to be bigger, stronger, and much more fails us. How many times have we lost everything just for the sake of imagining a little more? It is not for nothing that they say that the greatest enemy of the 'good' is the 'best'...
But the more significant thing is the context. The experience of loss meets Ron in the midst of a meeting with his father. And I want to change the angle, to look at our responsibility as parents, at this constant tension between the push for excellence, for fulfillment, for development, and proportion, realism, responsibility. How many times do we push our children to inflate their balloons bigger, stronger, more and more until the inevitable explosion comes?
That's the end of every balloon. Isn't it?
""Don't be sorry Ronnie Ron, this is the end of every balloon."""And suddenly this condolence message sounds less credible, right? We tend to justify our failures, not this time. There are balloons that shouldn't have burst, certainly not because of us...
""The children met Sigalit's cat Mitzi, Sigalit bent down and wanted to pet Mitzi, Mitzi snatched the balloon from Mitzi's hands, rolled and caught, rolled and caught, Mitzi scratched the balloon with her nails, and suddenly boom, bang...""
This saga is the most complex saga, practically every time my daughter beats the unruly cat to death, on the page, and threatens her with terrible and horrible punishments (as the one who brings the cat to the house).and(Of course, your faithful servant is found..) In a philosophically Gothic way, this line makes me ponder more than anything.
For the other children, the cat didn't scratch the balloon, they simply didn't have a cat. These thoughts about the inevitable price that comes from closeness, the question of worth that the story hints at: Sometimes we get hit by those closest to us, the children for example. Is it because they hate us or are they especially angry with us? No. The reason is simpler. When a child throws a tantrum, it's easier for him to hit those closest to him... That's all. .
Split the balloon, bourgeois.
And Ruthie, Ruthie, this is a real tragedy.
""Ruthi was afraid that her balloon would explode too, Ruthi hugged the blue balloon like you hug a doll, like you hug your mother, and suddenly boom, bang...""
Here is a tragedy, and unfortunately, it is also so familiar: the fear of losing people, and it drives them away from us in a circular motion. How many times have we been afraid of missing out on an experience, and precisely this fear made it unexciting? How many times have we been afraid of sharing something precious to us, and kept it only for ourselves until it lost all value, until it burst? How many balloons have burst in our lives because we were afraid of losing them, because we were afraid to share, to share, to develop?
""There was only one balloon left, a red balloon, Alon's balloon. The wind caught the balloon and blew it up high, up to the clouds."".
Alon is the standard, average, prudent, bourgeois man. True, he too ran out of money in the end, and it's impossible to say that he really enjoyed the balloon, and in any case, his normative pattern of action left him with the resources for the longest time. A matter of personal preference.
""The children stood, waved their hands, and called out to the sky, "Hello, hello, red balloon.".
""One thing you can be impressed with Alon and the children in general. They learned from the experience of others, and in parting with Alon's balloon they understood that 'this is how it is in nature.' Alon did not cry, was not surprised, and did not grieve either. He simply said goodbye with understanding, with a mature peace, with a true understanding that "this is the end of every balloon.".
I wish we could.
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