I recently had the opportunity to read a poem written by one of the most humble people I know, and I was totally overwhelmed by the beauty of the imagery and the depth of truth in his words.
The lights of the humble always shine brighter, because they do not seek to blind, they can see beyond themselves. Why?
Because they are not limited to the realm of
Me.
They can view the world around them with open and honest eyes, without searching for its relation to them. They can observe the universe, the ways of the world and the ways of man with objectivity; and comment productively.
Jodi Picoult writes in her novel, My Sister’s Keeper, that:
“Everyone under the age of seven is fluent in
Ifspeak ... it doesn’t really matter how far you go; the point is that it is a world of possibility. Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I’ve decided, is only a slow sewing shut.” *
It seems to me that the journey from humility to pride is much the same.
I cannot remember the last time I wrote anything that was not in some way about me. But this is not a note of self-pity, simply the realisation that I still have a long path to walk before reaching true humility.
Which begs the question, is even writing this a step in the right or the wrong direction?
Another thought:
It has been said that the man who thinks himself humble is, in fact, the furthest from being so.
*Picoult, J. My Sister’s Keeper. 2004. Atria Books. 299.
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