Being in the moment might be the highest form of respect. To actually, physically be participating in what’s commonly referred to as life on a moment-to-moment basis. To be aware that there is a two-way dialogue happening, with ideas being exchanged in the now. That’s gotta be humility working in the program.
I’m attempting a month of humility:
Humility simply requires a man to think of his abilities and his actions as no greater, and no lesser, than they really are. Real humility then mandates that a man knows and is completely honest with himself.
My disease allowed for precious few “in the moment” moments. I was always trying to get beyond what was directly in front of me. I would watch people’s lips move until they stopped. I would scan the room for exits. I would anticipate moments to bolt. Because I felt I was above all that; awkwardness and pride mixing to form something like condemnation. Whatever it took to get me out.
It’s not that I was bad at human interaction. I just didn’t want to do it. It required too much effort. I felt like I needed to flip a switch to get into the appropriate mode. 33 to 45 rpm.
Now I can leave the switch alone. Rejiggering my levels is no longer a requirement, because I’m not starting from such a low, and I’m not trying to achieve such a high.
The worst I can say about the world is it’s boring. It’s not out to get me like I thought: hello, ego. It’s not rigged against me: hello, self-pity. It’s not laughing at me: hello pride. These are all on-ramps to Crazytown. Home of the Fighting Realities.
And they don’t need a cheerleader. Trust me.
12 the hard way 