Tag: humility

Origin Stories

It’s not where you came from, it’s where you’re headed.

You’ve likely heard this a time or two. Or something like it.

The idea is straightforward: Where we come from is insignificant.

There is no cap on our potential. With hard work, determination and a little luck, we can get where we want to go.

This idea is akin to an ideal. It’s aspirational. It’s uplifting.

And it’s not true.

In reality, we do care about where we came from. Our origin stories matter.

In every aspect of our lives — from family to food to entertainment to shopping, we are obsessed with origins.

Whether we’re traveling through the silver screen to Tatooine to meet Luke Skywalker in Star Wars, reading of Apple’s beginnings in a garage or learning of where the ingredients of tonight’s meal are from, the origin stories are a big part of the ride. Similarly, getting to know new people often means trading stories of where we came from and how we got here.

These patterns are inherently embedded. They’re why the three act structure of storytelling is so prevalent in movies, theater and TV shows. They’re why meeting a romantic partner’s parents is such a key milestone in courtship.

This is no accident.

Origin stories break down boundaries. They make us relatable. And they help forge emotional ties.

As social beings, we are wired for these types of interactions. Yet, we are also vigilant at fighting off the threats that might undermine our existence.

We’ve come up with an elaborate system to reconcile these opposing sensations. One where we separate the world into those we rely on and those we’re wary of.

The dividing line between these two segments is trust. We build social relationships with those we trust. And we try and avoid contact with those we don’t.

Trust is inherently valuable. And earning it is no easy feat.

It requires a series of consistent actions. It requires proof of selflessness. And it requires relatability.

The first two components can be achieved with a measure of persistence over time. But the third one requires something more.

It requires a massive dose of humility.

And there’s no better vehicle for that sensation than an origin story.

For no matter how powerful we might seem, our origins are derived from a place of vulnerability. We start the journey of our existence meekly, lacking the ability for self-sufficiency.

This is true no matter the circumstances of our origin. Regardless our ethnicity, nationality or socioeconomic class, our early days are ones of weakness. They’re the cocoon we metamorphize out of.

In many ways, these formative years are our greatest shared human experience. They’re the great equalizer we can all relate to.

Rehashing them can help us find common ground. They help us put our cards on the table and say Hey, I’m human too.

It might feel cringe-worthy to harken back to those early days. We might instead feel the urge to share with others what we have acute control over — our decisions, accomplishments and aspirations.

But there is power in the past.

The power of context. The power of introspection. And the power of connection.

This is the power that forges the strongest bonds. This is the power that can help us continue to grow and thrive.

It would be foolish to pass this potential up in the name of vanity and ego.

Yes, where we’re headed matters. But so does where we came from.

Never forget that.

 

The Fine Line of Modesty

If there’s one attribute that’s universally commended, it’s modesty.

The value of remaining humble and reserved has persisted across the sands of time.

After all, modesty is the polar opposite of hubris. And we have countless cautionary tales — from Icarus to Macbeth — of how our own ego can lead to our downfall.

By contrast, modesty is safe. It makes us homogeneous and relatable. It adheres us to the tribe. It provides a subtle, yet powerful script to follow.

Our society certainly buys into the power this attribute holds. We love to toast the modest and roast the egotistical. We encourage others to be down to earth and love our neighbors.

Modesty is the gold standard. That which we’re expected to continually strive for.

But by placing it above all else, we walk a fine line — the line between modesty and imposter syndrome.

What is imposter syndrome? It’s a condition that causes us to doubt our accomplishments. To question our worthiness of the praise we receive.

It’s the indelible belief that we’re a fraud, and it’s only a matter of time until people find out and expose us for what we are.

I’ve battled this condition before, and many accomplished people have as well.

Of course, these doubts are entirely ludicrous. We are worthy of our accomplishments. By and large, we’re not frauds or impostors.

So, why are so many of us convinced otherwise?

It goes back to our societal infatuation with modesty.

Think about what modesty truly stands for. There are many possible answers, yet one seems particularly pertinent.

Deference.

Yes, we place great value on deferring to others. On sharing with them and empowering them. We demand these principles out of our leaders as much as we anticipate it from their followers.

This is the principle that allows us to enact sustainable power structures — those which guide us in the right direction without losing the peace.

Since deference is so critical, it’s only natural that we lean heavily toward modesty — the philosophy that espouses it more than any other. We’re expected to value the opinions and expertise of others ahead of our own. To be aware of how small our role is in the grander scheme of things.

But the weight of these expectations can make us too deferential. It can cause us to defer our own values, to question our own self-worth. It can spur us to retreat when those around us are looking to us to contribute.

It can make us feel like imposters, when we’re anything but.

What’s the way out of this conundrum?

Well, as with any situation that toes a fine line, the answer is not clear cut. Yet, there is something out there that can help ease the burden we place upon ourselves.

A commitment to positive recognition.

If we take the time to recognize each other for our accomplishments, we’ll no longer feel like ants masquerading as giants.

If we spend private moments of introspection considering what we bring to the table, we’ll start to realize we belong.

This will be far from a cut-and-dry process. After all, those who display modesty are hard-wired to deflect praise.

But through enough time and commitment, we can share the message that no matter how modest we are, our contributions matter.

We can proclaim, for once and for all, that we belong.

And there’s no modesty needed for that.

Honor In Humility

Thanksgiving is just around the corner. And as longtime Words of the West readers know, I’m not one to gloss over that fact.

No, while many are excited to get a jump on their holiday shopping or decorate their homes in lights, I’m very much in the moment.

Thanksgiving means more than Family, Food and Football. It means reflecting on all we have to be thankful for.

It’s about gratitude. It’s about appreciation. It’s about humility.

These aren’t emotions we naturally wear on our chest. Mac Davis once sang “Lord, it’s hard to be humble,” and we’ve done little to dispute that claim since then. The rapid rise of tech entrepreneurs and the myth of the self-made man have fooled us into believing that success is solely in our hands.

It’s not.

Truth be told, many people play a supporting role in our life’s work. It starts with our parents, who take care of us when we’re too young to do so ourselves. It continues with our teachers, who help us expand our mind. Then come friends and significant others, who lift us up on an emotional level. And finally, there are all those who provide us opportunities, and allow us to build the life we want.

Think we’d be where we are without any of this? No chance.

Yet, we find it difficult to admit this. At least publicly.

I’m not sure why that is. Is it ego? Pride?

Regardless of the answer, Thanksgiving gets us back to our senses.

It reminds us that there’s actually great honor in humility. In being introspective on our own vulnerability and appreciative of all those who led us through the fire.

It demonstrates that we’re all part of something bigger. That our stories are intertwined and those connections are what truly matter.

I wish we took the time to recognize these principles more than once a year. That allowed ourselves to be vulnerable. To be grateful. To put others first.

But as it is, I’m glad there’s a moment between Halloween Candy and Christmas Trees when we can do all this. When we can rediscover the honor in humility and share it with the ones who matter to us most.

This year, let’s make sure that moment doesn’t pass us by.

Happy Thanksgiving.