If all our wishes could be granted, the real question wouldn’t be WHAT we’d wish for, but WHY we’d have those wishes in the first place. We may not realize it, but every wish is born from an injustice, a pain, a heartache, or a loss we’ve endured. Without having ever faced our own “dragons,” would we even have wishes at all? And I ask, without reflection, or wonder, or striving for something better, what would Life be then, once everything were finally perfect? And would it still intrigue us? Would we feel motivated at all?

Here to answer these questions is Le Petit Prince, or The Little Prince. In this world renowned tale, author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry offers some if not the wisest of all Life’s principles. The tale’s hero, Le Petit Prince, doesn’t actually slay any dragons. But what he does so heroically is embody the curiosity of all children, as he roams the globe in wonder, endlessly posing questions and insatiably delving into the mysteries of Life’s enigmas. He doesn’t try to impress or win hearts. No, his heroism is a different kind, born of passive openness. He teaches us that we don’t have to slay the dragon to be a real hero. What we learn is that we can ALL be heroes or heroines—of the dignified, decent, authentic and curiously wide-eyed kind. 

This unassumingly “modest” tale holds so much of the knowledge we need to understand Life that I wonder if perhaps this children’s narrative might better serve us adults. 

As children, we once trembled over the notion of witches under the bed and marveled at the idea of tooth fairies. We’d gaze at the sun and the moon and the stars. We’d paint our faces and wear the gaudiest and glitziest of garbs. We’d try to catch butterflies or chase rainbows and delight in everything or nothing at all. Wonder was our approach to everything. And magic was our compass. 

Let’s look up to our heroic children, and let them be our example.

Let’s answer questions with questions—and turn our entire existence into a tale of enchantment.

Here to enchant you are some of the key wisdoms we can use to become more princely/princessly creatures on this planet:

(Excerpt from penguin.co.uk)

1. Don’t be too fond of numbers

Grown-ups are very fond of numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask you the kind of questions that should be asked, such as: “What kind of voice does he have?” “What are his favorite games?” “Does he collect butterflies?” Instead they ask: “How old is he? How much money does his father earn?” They really do imagine this is the best way to discover what sort of person he is!

2. Look after the planet

“It’s just a question of self-discipline,” the little prince explained later. “First thing in the morning you look after yourself, you brush your teeth and wash your face, don’t you? Well, the second thing you must do is to look after the planet.”

3.     Don’t judge others by their words, but by what they do

“[My rose] filled me with her fragrance, she had brought joy to my life. I should never leave her. I should have recognised what a sensitive sweet soul there was under all her rather silly games.”

4. Relationships make life worth living

“What exactly does ‘tamed’ mean?”

“Well, it’s something too often forgotten,” said the fox. “I suppose it means: to make some kind of relationship.”

“Relationship?”

“Yes,” said the fox. “I’ll explain. To me, you are just a little boy like any other, like a hundred thousand other little boys. I have no need of you and you have no need of me. To you I am a fox like any other, like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, you and I, we will have created a relationship, and so we will need one another. You will be unique in the world for me… If you were to tame me, my whole life would be so much more fun. I would come to know the sound of your footsteps, and it would be different from all the others. At the sound of any other footstep I would be down in my hole in the earth as quick as you like. But your footsteps would be like music to my ears, and I would come running up out of my hole, quick as you like.”

5. The important things in life you cannot see with your eyes, only with your heart

Once the little prince fell asleep, I picked him up in my arms and set off on my way again. I was so moved as I walked. It seemed to me that I was carrying in my arms the most delicate of treasures, that there could be nothing more fragile on the whole Earth. In the light of the moon I looked down at this pale forehead, those closed eyes, those locks of his that trembled in the wind: “What I am seeing,” I thought, “is no more than the shell. What is truly important I cannot see.” 

6. It is the time you give to something that makes it precious

I lifted the bucket to his lips. He drank, his eyes closed. Then I drank. It was like a feast of water. This was not ordinary food of course, but it might just as well have been. The sweetness of this water was born from the long walk under the stars, from the song of the pulley, and for the effort of pulling up that bucket. It made me feel good, made me happy, as a present does.

7. And finally, remember to look up at the stars

“Stars mean different things to different people. For travelers, stars tell them where they are, where they are going. For others, they are just little lights in the sky. For scholars, they are the world of the unknown, yet to be discovered and understood. For my businessman, they are gold. But all stars stay silent. And you? No one else in the world will see the stars as you do… For you, and only for you, the stars will always be laughing.”