I recently told someone that life has been offering plenty of opportunities to exercise my humility muscle. It seemed like a nice turn of phrase – until I realized that talking that way was contrary to the essence of modesty. It sounded as if I was proud of my progress becoming humble.
And yet a person still needs to practice self-effacement. Because without practice it is difficult to make progress. Which leaves me in a conundrum. The way forward is along the humility path but I need to be careful how I monitor my advancement along that path. So – somehow I need to exercise humility without undue awareness of or emphasis on the results.
My ego makes that task difficult. It does not grasp the point of effort without attention to outcome. Even if I do not boast about either, my ego instinctively believes that I should, at the minimum, find motivation from the goal of the exercise and hence in its measurement.
Ah – the challenge of the self! If only the ego could be discarded at will, placed in a position of quiet on command, forgotten like a poor choice or a bad dream. Alas, such an achievement is not so easy.
It cannot be accomplished alone.
Our nature is fundamentally one of interdependence. Individually, we have responsibility, accountability. Together, we have potential. An experience last week reminded me of the wonder possible inside this duality.
It was Friday evening. The kung fu class that I attend had just ended; I was changing my shoes and readying to leave. The class is comprised of people of various sizes and ages. Recently, a boy of ten or so has joined the class, with his mother. I was pushing an arm into my jacket when the mother smiled and said “He really likes it when you encourage him”. It took me a second or two to realize that she was speaking to me. She nodded at her son across the room. “It’s not easy for him to keep up.”
It’s not easy for me to keep up. I told her that. “He’s brave to be doing this, with all these adults and older teens. Especially nights like tonight when the black belts train with us. I’m impressed.”
Full disclosure: I have made it a point to say an encouraging word or two to this young man, before or after our class. He is the youngest in the group, at present. As I’m one of the oldest, I identify with any trepidation he may carry to our training sessions. Many evenings I have to remind myself that learning, not performance, is why I am there. Mastery comes later.
But I admit it – the woman’s comment made me feel a little bit good about myself. Although my encouragement to her son has not been offered with any expectation of acknowledgement, positive feedback does tend to make a person feel good. It reinforces. With a small swell of self-congratulation, I zipped up my jacket, shared a goodnight with another classmate, and turned to leave. The boy was now seated next to his mother. “You are doing a great job,” I said, bending toward him. I pointed at a number of black belt students who were preparing for some testing. Their moves looked pretty complicated. “I don’t know about you but it’s scary for me sometimes to work out with all these guys.”
The boy’s face brightened. He stood, stepped across the space between us, and gave me a hug.
Suddenly, my ego was gone. Vanished. A simple, unexpected hug from the class’s youngest member disarmed my defenses. Old and young were connected. The boy’s intention, fear, failure, and success felt like my own. And training in the same space with advanced martial arts students instantly lost some of its intimidation. I had also lost a some of my boundary. The feeling of sameness – togetherness – stayed with me, as I jogged to my car and set out for home. I sense it still.
Conscious humility training might have guided me that it is good to be supportive. An honest gesture from a child humbled me more than I could have imagined.
On the tree of life, the leaf closest to the sun isn’t any better than the others.