<p>Albert Einstein once said, “In all my life I have used only 25 per cent of the god-given ability I possess.”<br /><br /></p>.<p>Such a line from the world’s most celebrated physicist, who discovered the concept of ‘relativity,’ brings out the truth that man uses only a small per cent of his intellect at any given time. <br /><br />While a major part of our cognitive reserves lie untouched and unused, we live a life of quiet desperation, never raising to our full potential and blaming an uncaring world for our deficiencies. <br /><br />A failure to use one’s talents – the apparent and the hidden – signifies irresponsibility and foolhardiness. It is synonymous with leaving a valuable gift locked up idle in the attic. <br /><br />What is worse, the unused gift rots, loses its lustre and eventually becomes worthless. So it is, with all our god-given endowments. They are either totally unused or grossly underused, leading to a colossal depreciation of these endowments over time. <br /><br />Among the many reasons that lead to this phenomenon of underutilisation of talents is the preconceived notion that one is never good enough to stretch beyond known territories. <br /><br />A tale about an eaglet which ended up being a chicken all its life throws much light on this malady. A farmer once found an eagle’s egg and put it into the nest of a prairie chicken. The eaglet hatched with the brood of chicks and grew up with them.<br /><br />All its life, the changeling eagle, thinking it was a prairie chicken, did what the prairie chickens did. <br /><br />It scratched in the dirt for seeds and insects to eat. It clucked and cackled. And it flew in a brief thrashing of wings and flurry of feathers no more than a few feet off the ground. After all that is how prairie chickens were supposed to fly. <br /><br />Years passed and the changeling eagle grew very old. One day, it saw a magnificent bird far above in the cloudless sky. Hanging with graceful majesty on the powerful wind currents, it soared mightily with its strong golden wings. <br /><br />“What a beautiful bird,” said the changeling eagle to its neighbour. “What is it?” “That’s an eagle, the chief of the birds,” the neighbour clucked. “But don’t give it a second thought. You could never be like him.”<br /><br />So, the changeling eagle never gave it another thought. And it died thinking it was a prairie chicken.<br /><br />A comparable analogy could be drawn concerning people. <br /><br />Thinking ourselves to be incapable of many feats we live a life of self-fulfilling prophesies of failures. Rising above prejudices and mind-blocks will open a whole new set of possibilities from where one can spread his wings, fly high and reach for the stars.<br /></p>
<p>Albert Einstein once said, “In all my life I have used only 25 per cent of the god-given ability I possess.”<br /><br /></p>.<p>Such a line from the world’s most celebrated physicist, who discovered the concept of ‘relativity,’ brings out the truth that man uses only a small per cent of his intellect at any given time. <br /><br />While a major part of our cognitive reserves lie untouched and unused, we live a life of quiet desperation, never raising to our full potential and blaming an uncaring world for our deficiencies. <br /><br />A failure to use one’s talents – the apparent and the hidden – signifies irresponsibility and foolhardiness. It is synonymous with leaving a valuable gift locked up idle in the attic. <br /><br />What is worse, the unused gift rots, loses its lustre and eventually becomes worthless. So it is, with all our god-given endowments. They are either totally unused or grossly underused, leading to a colossal depreciation of these endowments over time. <br /><br />Among the many reasons that lead to this phenomenon of underutilisation of talents is the preconceived notion that one is never good enough to stretch beyond known territories. <br /><br />A tale about an eaglet which ended up being a chicken all its life throws much light on this malady. A farmer once found an eagle’s egg and put it into the nest of a prairie chicken. The eaglet hatched with the brood of chicks and grew up with them.<br /><br />All its life, the changeling eagle, thinking it was a prairie chicken, did what the prairie chickens did. <br /><br />It scratched in the dirt for seeds and insects to eat. It clucked and cackled. And it flew in a brief thrashing of wings and flurry of feathers no more than a few feet off the ground. After all that is how prairie chickens were supposed to fly. <br /><br />Years passed and the changeling eagle grew very old. One day, it saw a magnificent bird far above in the cloudless sky. Hanging with graceful majesty on the powerful wind currents, it soared mightily with its strong golden wings. <br /><br />“What a beautiful bird,” said the changeling eagle to its neighbour. “What is it?” “That’s an eagle, the chief of the birds,” the neighbour clucked. “But don’t give it a second thought. You could never be like him.”<br /><br />So, the changeling eagle never gave it another thought. And it died thinking it was a prairie chicken.<br /><br />A comparable analogy could be drawn concerning people. <br /><br />Thinking ourselves to be incapable of many feats we live a life of self-fulfilling prophesies of failures. Rising above prejudices and mind-blocks will open a whole new set of possibilities from where one can spread his wings, fly high and reach for the stars.<br /></p>
