Humility - Virtue or Vice?

As a child, I was what kind older people would call "precocious" and what my dad called a "smart-a**". I liked being good at things and felt this almost uncontrollable urge to show how smart or right I was about things that I had even the slightest experience with. Needless to, I didn't have many friends as a kid (except for boys, who didn't mind arguing with me or going along with my ideas and schemes when they thought they might be fun). When I learned about "humility" being a virtue in Sunday school, I didn't get it. How could acknowledging the things you were good at be a bad thing? Didn't everyone want to do thier best and be recognized for it?

Years went by. I learned about "Hubris" in studying Greek mythology and learned about the pitfalls of bragging in the halls of my junior high school. I started to have more friends (even girls) and tried to keep my big stinking mouth shut when I felt that impulse to say something superior. Yet while I acknowledged that uncontrolled or misplaced pride was not a good thing, I still held little regard for the "virtue" of humility. I pictured the person who, having worked for hours to prepare a Thanksgiving feast for 20, smiles meekly and says "Oh, twas nothing." Yeah right. You worked hard, you succeeded, and you should be proud of your accomplishments.

What I am realizing more recently is that my concept of humility as a vice rather than a virtue is actually based on a false humility. Wikipedia differentiates these in this way: "True humility" is distinctly different from "false humility" which consists of deprecating one's own sanctity, gifts, talents, and accomplishments for the sake of receiving praise or adulation from other" (based on the writings of Uriah Heep). This is what i was taught in Sunday school it meant to be humble - to be self-depracating.

However, "true humility" isn't about thinking that you can do something better (or worse) than someone else. It is acknowledging that everyone has things they excel at and things they struggle with but that none of us is intrinsically better than someone else. We all struggle, we all shine, but our worth as people comes from something far greater than our accomplishments or failures.

This reminds me of the passage by Marianne Willamson:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."


By this measure, I am humbled every day by the strength/courage/warmth/humor/wit/talent of those around me. True humility is definitely a virtue.

Inside My Head

This week, while I was washing my hair and participating in two strands of thought going through my mind, one verbal and one visual, I suddenly had the thought that not everyone probably does this. That not just my brain, but my way of thinking – of processing, analyzing, synthesizing and expressing/applying – may be very different from what other people do inside their heads.

Now, let me stop for a moment to say that I have been fascinated for at least ten years with brain research as it relates to education. I believe in and apply the work of Dr. Gardner and multiple intelligences. I have known for a long time that brains are vastly different and yield vastly different learners. I have known this on a professional and intellectual level for a long time; however, what struck me this week was the question: “What does it look like/sound like/feel like to be in someone else’s head?”

To give you some of my perspective, just now, my cat came over to me and purred loudly to get my attention. As I was petting him, I, seemingly simultaneously,

·         Listened to his purr, Kenton’s typing across the room and the hum of my laptop;

·     Felt the warmth of his fur and realized that my feet were cold;

·        Thought about what I would write next;

·        Heard an underscore of a melody in my mind;

·        Vividly visualized what a command center in my head would actually look like.

By the way, it looked sort of like a theatre inside a planetarium. With bit, half-domed screen with words and images popping in and out and scrolling by like comets. Really, it is more like being in space itself: in a blank void, where things just appear when summoned, whether consciously or unconsciously. Words, feelings, pictures, sounds and the connections between them. When the connections are stronger, the images loom larger and sometimes take on a brightness around the edges.

This is what it is like for me. What is it like for you?

Here is what I would like to know:

·        Do you sometimes feel like there are different frequencies in your brain which can be heard at the same time? Like two radio stations, one coming in louder and clearer and the other a bit further away but sometimes switching in and out?

·        Do you have two internal conversations at a time, which sometimes interrupt each other or intersect and become one?

·        Do you ask questions and wonder things verbally, but see the solutions visually – in images or written words or sometimes even a feeling pulling you in certain direction?

·       Does your brain move faster than your mouth ever could?

My brain doesn’t always work like this, but it often does. Especially if I am engaged in a challenging mental activity like trying to work out a solution to a problem or figure out how best to explain something to someone. I see/feel it in my mind with a clarity that I attempt to bring out into the world with varying degrees of success.

Which is probably why this feels so futile right now. As wonderfully complex and beautiful language is, it feels far too weak to explain the complexities of our internal worlds. Like J. Alfred Prufrock, I find myself reflecting back and thinking, “It is impossible to say just what I mean!”

So, dear friends, the next time we meet over coffee or a glass of wine, I would love to better understand what it is like inside your head. You can draw me a picture, tell me what it feels like or whatever helps you to best explain the view from in there. I am curious to hear what is similar and different and celebrate both.

In the meantime, feel free to comment here or in a separate email. I'll understand if words don't suffice.