I’m scared I may be less smart than I think I am.
But for better or worse, how smart I am is not dependent on anyone’s thoughts. I may be wrong, right, in-between, or off the grid.
Isn’t it inconsequential whether we agree about how smart I am?
And yet, I’ve seen myself shrink from those who insinuate I’m not quite as bright as I think I am. I still contract, though with less defensiveness now, at the suggestion that I’ve erred. I won’t let someone in if they believe something about me that I don’t think is true. To what end?
This feels like an invitation to live based on what is true, rather than my thoughts about it. What is it to live unchained by thoughts and expectations? Slowly, I clear dust off the lens.
And here lies the fork. Can I stay clear in the face of my own and others’ beliefs? Will I allow myself to see what is, right now? Will I let my belief system be dismantled by reality? Or will I lie to myself, over, and over, and over again?
If Gandhi is right, and my beliefs become my destiny, I’m looking at a fragile destiny if I leave my beliefs unchallenged.