Hope and humility inspired by hubris...

There's someone who sits not twenty feet from my oft empty office, a relatively recent visitor to my well guarded perimeter, who annoys the hair folicles out of everyone. I can't believe the way in which this individual speaks to people. Nearly everything that falls from their face is condescending and fairly thoughtless. They're the kind of person who cuts you off mid-sentence to say, "I know, I know...," and it turns me inside out. This person speaks down to people and if you ever saw them you'd be awed by that strange phenomenon. They are something of a work in progress if you can envision some pretty shoddy worksmanship.

Their sand paper mannerisms and the way that they treat people got me to thinking about the absolute importance of how we say what we say. I believe deeply in the power of sincerity, and that enthusiasm is the stuff that dreams are made of, but it's difficult to teach those traits. You're either more often than not exactly that very person, or your more often than not nowhere near that sort of person. If you don't have the genuine chops it takes to be liked, to be good at what you do, and to have a little character, then so be it. There's not much we're going to do about that, and little more that we'll waste any time discussing. However, if you've got the goods to win over hearts and minds, then you probably get the drift of this diatribe and are nodding your head as you read. Some people you'd want to find yourself stuck on a desert island with, and some people you'd hope kept drifting in the endless ebb and flow of wide open ocean.

I hope that we can fill Zoey with sincerity. I hope that we can stuff her full of genuine ideas and emotions. I beg the vast and indifferent universe that we might help her find grace and character and breathe in and out the sweet air of integrity. I hope, I hope, I hope. I hope that we can help her find the kind of voice that doesn't alienate or disrespect, or distance herself from anyone else. I'm wishful, with all fingers and toes crossed, that Zoey has a heart the size of the atmosphere and a mind of the same boundless breadth. I hope that she measures her capacity to move or inspire with deference, and pays equal attention to her ability to disturb and distress. I hope that she finds the balance in her life between student and teacher, and between mortal and god.

That all sounds so dramatic but I believe it to be abundantly true. If there is a God of any sort I am certain that such a thing lives inside each and every one of us. Sitting here and listening to someone so subconsciously diminish the intelligence, value, experience, and intention of others leaves me nothing short of desperate that we help Zoey find her best self, and not some propped up version of that. Our best selves only inspire others, not deaden them to their own value.

Every second that I listen to this person talk I find more focus to be someone worth listening to, or better still, someone worth talking to.