As a boy, I often heard this phrase: «Spìngimi ca camìnu, pàgami ca dòrmu». It means, “Push me and I will walk; pay me and I will sleep.” It makes us smile because it describes someone who claims to be ready to move, provided somebody else supplies all the push, or who will gladly accept wages as long as no work is required. The joke is sharp, but behind the smile lies a serious question: how much of what we desire are we willing to do ourselves?
The missing ticket
I remember a popular tale told in several versions about Saint Januarius. A devotee keeps asking him for a lottery win. Finally, the saint replies, more or less, “I might grant your wish, but you have to buy a ticket!” The story is not history, nor is it advice to gamble. A lottery depends on chance, and buying a ticket does not make winning likely. The point of the joke is different: we cannot demand an outcome without taking even the preliminary action that makes it possible.
Our “ticket” is rarely bought at a shop. It may be a book opened, an application sent, a call made, or a difficult conversation finally begun. It is no guarantee of success. It is our contribution to the possibility that success may exist at all.
Studying guarantees little; not studying decides a great deal
If I want to learn a profession, pass an exam or understand a subject, nobody can study in my place. A good teacher, a supportive family and favourable circumstances matter enormously. But on the evening when I have to sit down, read, make mistakes and try again, that part belongs to me. Applying myself does not promise the highest mark or a secure career; giving up before I begin limits my chances all by itself.
The same is true when I look for work. I may rightly complain about an unfair job market or closed doors. Meanwhile, I can improve what I know, apply, ask, revise a résumé and learn something useful. I am not saying that unemployed people fail to make an effort: that would be cruel. I am saying that, while I can, I do not want to add my own refusal to try to the difficulties the world already presents.
Relationships need a gesture too
Sometimes we wait for a friend to call first, for a partner to understand our needs without being told, or for someone we love to guess our intentions. Then we hurt when it does not happen. A relationship does require reciprocity: we cannot build it alone. But we can do our part by saying “I miss you,” asking clearly for help, or apologising when we have been wrong. Waiting in silence and treating another person’s ability to read our mind as a test of love may leave everyone standing still.
A family project works the same way. If I want more time together, wishing for it is not enough: I have to set some aside. If I ask someone to share a burden, I should be willing to notice theirs as well. The hand I am offered does not remove my work; my work does not forbid me to ask for a hand.
The line between responsibility and blame
Here the proverb has a limit. It is easy to call someone lazy when they are ill, discouraged, short of resources or blocked by obstacles we cannot see. It would be unfair to turn the duty to try into a tale in which every success is deserved and every failure is someone’s fault. We do not all begin at the same point, and we cannot control everything we meet. Some people need a stable ladder and someone to hold it before any talk of pushing.
Doing our part means acting within what we can truly choose. It may mean working, but it can also mean seeking support, looking after our health, resting when we are exhausted, or changing course after a setback. Recognising a limit is not passivity; pretending that the limit prevents us from even looking for another way can be.
The first step performs no miracles
When I begin something, the world does not owe me an immediate reward. I may not be chosen, pass the exam or receive the answer I had hoped for. Yet I will have learned something about the path, about other people and about myself. Sometimes the next step grows out of an attempt that seemed to fail. The reverse is harder: a possibility we never explored cannot even teach us how to adjust.
I like to think that help from others and our own initiative are not rivals. One person steadies the ladder and another climbs it. Neither gesture is useless. But if we remain at its foot asking only to be pushed, perhaps the problem is not that others are doing too little. Perhaps we need to decide where to put our foot.
What I would like to leave my children
I hope you will dare to want a great deal without waiting for desire to turn itself into an achievement. Study, ask, try, make mistakes and begin again. Accept help without shame, and offer it to those facing a harder step than yours. Do not judge lightly those who cannot climb: you do not always know what weight they carry. But when you can choose a concrete action, choose it. Luck, other people and even Saint Januarius may do their part; do not leave yours undone.
Papy