Coming to the Waratahs was the first time I felt I gained some

The words of Israel Folau, when he said, “Coming to the Waratahs was the first time I felt I gained some independence. I was telling my parents I had to go out on my own, and learn and grow, and if I made mistakes, then so be it,” carry the quiet thunder of a soul awakening to its own strength. These words are not only about sport, nor about fame, but about the sacred journey of independence — the moment when a person leaves the shelter of others and walks into the world, guided not by certainty but by courage. For in every life comes that hour when the comfort of home must yield to the fire of becoming.

In Folau’s voice, we hear the echo of countless generations who have stood at the threshold between childhood and manhood, between safety and self-discovery. His decision to go out on his own was not merely a change of team; it was the ancient rite of passage — the crossing of the bridge from dependence to mastery. He knew that to grow, he must be willing to stumble; that the path of learning is paved with errors, and that only those who dare to fail can rise to greatness. Mistakes, he said, “then so be it” — a humble acceptance that wisdom comes not from perfection, but from persistence.

Consider the tale of the young Siddhartha Gautama, who would one day become the Buddha. Born a prince, he was surrounded by every luxury and shielded from the world’s pain. Yet one day, he saw the reality of suffering, and his heart could no longer remain caged in comfort. He left the palace, his family, and all he knew, to seek truth beneath the Bodhi tree. It was in his journey into solitude, not in the safety of wealth, that he found enlightenment. Like Folau, he too declared in spirit: “I must go out on my own, learn and grow — and if I err, so be it.” For both men, independence was not rebellion but transformation.

The Waratahs, for Folau, were not just a team but a crucible — a place where he could test himself, free from the expectations of others. To tell one’s parents, “I must go,” is to speak the first words of selfhood. It is the child saying farewell to the nest, knowing that flight will be uncertain, the winds unkind, and yet — the sky irresistible. This is the price of growth: to step into risk, to embrace the unknown, and to trust that even failure can be a teacher.

There is a deeper lesson in these words for all who listen: that independence is not isolation. It is not the denial of love, but the honoring of it — for what greater gift can a parent receive than to see their child stand firm, walk alone, and bear the weight of choice? The ancients taught that a tree planted in the shade never learns to seek the sun; it must be moved to open ground, where rain, wind, and light may shape its form. So too must every human soul venture forth, that strength may be forged through experience.

Look around the world, and you will see those who fear to step beyond what is known — who cling to security and never test their wings. But the great spirits, from warriors to artists, from explorers to saints, all share this sacred impulse: the will to learn and grow by their own hands. It is not arrogance, but trust in life’s unfolding. They understand that mistakes are not marks of failure, but signs of movement — proof that they are living, striving, becoming.

So, let this be your inheritance, O listener. When your hour of choice arrives — when you must leave behind the familiar and step into the uncertain — do not shrink. Take the road that leads outward, even if it trembles beneath your feet. Speak as Folau spoke: “I must go out on my own.” Accept your mistakes as companions, your solitude as a mentor, and your journey as the forge of your soul. For it is only in independence that one discovers not just who they are, but who they are meant to become.

And remember: to grow is to risk, and to risk is to live. The one who never stumbles never moves; the one who never moves never sees the horizon. Go forth, then, with courage in your heart — learn, fall, rise, and learn again. For life itself is the greatest teacher, and every step away from comfort is a step closer to wisdom.