A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time he bites

Hear the words of Herb Caen, sharp of wit and rich in insight: “A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time he bites off more than he can chew.” In these words lies a parable for all generations. For true wisdom does not come in the safety of small tasks or the comfort of familiar paths. It is born in the struggle, in the weight of challenges greater than our strength, when we must rise beyond what we thought possible. To “bite off more than one can chew” is to dare, to test the limits of one’s spirit—and in that daring, the seeds of wisdom break forth.

The ancients knew that the forge of character is not ease, but trial. The youth who never ventures beyond his strength remains a child in spirit, no matter his years. But the one who dares to wrestle with burdens heavier than he can bear—he begins to grow. In failure, he learns humility. In persistence, he learns endurance. In triumph, he learns mastery. Thus, the “wisdom teeth” of the soul are not granted by age alone, but by the daring to face more than comfort allows.

Consider the tale of Theodore Roosevelt, who as a boy was sickly and frail, his body weak and unsteady. Yet he chose to bite off more than he could chew. He threw himself into harsh exercise, horseback riding, and boxing. He pushed himself where others might have surrendered. Through this relentless challenge, he transformed from a fragile child into the Rough Rider, the man who would one day stride onto the world stage as president, strong in both body and spirit. His story proves the truth: wisdom and strength awaken when one dares beyond his measure.

So too, in the realm of invention and discovery, we see this truth. Did not the Wright brothers take into their mouths more than they could chew, seeking to conquer the sky? Many mocked them, many predicted failure. They faced crashes, broken wings, and countless setbacks. Yet through these struggles, they gained the wisdom that no book alone could teach—the knowledge of flight itself. And thus, the world was forever changed because they dared to grapple with the impossible.

But heed this, O children of tomorrow: such daring is not without pain. To take on more than you can chew is to stumble, to face defeat, and to taste the bitterness of failure. Yet it is in this very struggle that the wisdom teeth emerge. For comfort teaches little, but hardship teaches all. The man who never dares remains safe, but small. The one who dares and fails becomes wiser, stronger, and ready to rise again.

The lesson is plain: do not fear the great challenge. Do not shrink from tasks that seem too heavy, too vast, too impossible. It is in these that your wisdom is sharpened. If you fail, you learn. If you succeed, you soar. But in both, you grow. Let not fear of stumbling keep you from walking, nor fear of choking keep you from eating the feast of life.

Practical steps lie before you: seek out challenges that stretch you. Volunteer for tasks at work or in life that seem beyond your current skill. Begin projects that demand more of your strength than you think you have. When difficulty comes, do not curse it, but welcome it as the grinding stone that sharpens your spirit. Each trial is a teacher, each burden a lesson. Remember always: the first time you take on more than you can bear is the moment your true wisdom teeth begin to grow.

Thus, let Caen’s words echo in your soul: wisdom is not handed down like an heirloom, but forged when you dare to bite deeply into life. The feast of existence is great, and though some morsels will be too large, it is in the struggle to chew them that you become who you are meant to be. Therefore, bite boldly, endure the struggle, and let your wisdom teeth cut through. For only then do you become not merely a child of time, but a master of destiny.