I had a humbling experience on Friday. While listening to my new favorite podcast, “The Happiness Lab,” the host Dr. Laurie Santos discussed inattentional blindness, or the inability to perceive objects if we’re not paying attention to them. She ran an experiment with her Yale students where she showed them a video of people passing a basketball. She asked her students to count the number of passes among people wearing white shirts.
When they revealed the answer – 15 passes – she said, “Great! But did you notice the person wearing a gorilla suit walk through the circle of players?” Invariably, the students said, “No. What? A person was wearing a gorilla suit?” When I heard this, I thought to myself, “Wow! Really? They didn’t notice? I bet I would pick up on the person in the gorilla suit. After all, I’m a highly sensitive person and notice things people miss.”
You would think a gorilla is easy to spot! Photo by Patrice Audet on Unsplash
Dr. Santos also mentioned when people are pressed for time, they are more likely to have inattentional blindness. In other words, rushing causes us to stop noticing small details. Well, on Friday night, I was rushing and received a telephone call from a friend named Michael. I have six Michaels in my contact list and texted the most recent Michael that showed up in my text conversations and said, “I got your message, I’ll call you in an hour.” I called him in an hour, he didn’t answer, and I noticed his outgoing voicemail recording had changed.
It was only after my friend said, “Hey, did you mean to call a different Michael?” that I put it together. D’oh! Called the wrong one! Here I was thinking I’m immune to inattentional blindness and it turns out, no, I am not. I zeroed in on the name “Michael” and blocked out the last name. The experience reminded me that I am one among many. Yes, I often fall into the outlier category, but that doesn’t mean I’m better than anyone else and, yet, that’s exactly what I started thinking on Friday before calling the wrong “Michael.”
My spiritual teacher says most people suffer from some sort of complex: an inferiority complex, superiority complex, fear complex, etc. He adds that “a complex of any sort is a psychic malady, a psychic disease. To consider oneself superior to others is a serious human mistake. Similarly, thinking oneself inferior to others is also a mistake. To suffer from an inferiority complex is also a psychic ailment. You must not encourage either a superiority complex or an inferiority complex. You must maintain a psychic balance; you must maintain a mental balance.”
Maintaining a mental balance for me means recognizing I’m human, I make mistakes. It means adopting an attitude of humility, or freedom from pride and arrogance. When I looked up the origin of the word “humility,” I found it stems from the Church Latin word humilis, which literally translates as “on the ground.” Also, part of the word humility’s etymology is other words that mean “Earth.” I like that. Being humble means keeping my feet on the ground, staying present here on Earth, and recognizing I’m no better and no worse than anyone else. In other words, I am also likely to miss a person wearing a gorilla suit.
I dream of a world where we recognize we are no better and no worse than anyone else. A world where we understand we all have strengths and weaknesses but that doesn’t mean we’re superior or inferior to others. A world where we place ourselves on equal footing with our fellow human beings. A world where we adopt an attitude of humility and realize we are likely to miss a person wearing a gorilla suit.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the past few weeks I’ve been thinking about self-confidence and what I believe I’m capable of. At this point I’m paying attention to the universe and noticing over and over this year I’m making money from contract gigs and freelance assignments. Every full-time (or even part-time!) job I’ve applied for has rejected me. But the random contract gigs and freelance assignments keep rolling in.
I haven’t ruled out getting a regular job, but I’ve also decided to pursue my own business. I’m actively searching for individuals and small businesses that need blogposts, which I can write as myself, or I can ghostwrite them. (Ghostwriting means I capture the person’s voice, do all of the writing for them, but someone else is listed as the author of the piece.) You can check out my website for more information.
Seemed appropriate given the title. Photo by Free Nature Stock on Unsplash
All of this is a preamble to say I teeter on the edge of confidence and insecurity with this new venture. In some moments I exclaim, “I can do this! I’m talented! I got this!” and in others I moan, “Who am I to start a business? I’m talented but will anyone pay me what I’m worth? I’m not sure I can do this.” It has me thinking about humility. The word humility gets a bad rap and is often associated with humiliation or low self-esteem, but the way my recovery programs present humility is “simply an awareness of who we really are today and a willingness to become all that we can be. Genuine humility brings an end to feelings of inadequacy, the self-absorption, and the status-seeking.”
What I’m coming to is isn’t it a kind of cosmic arrogance to think I can’t do something if all signs are pointing toward yes, I can? Isn’t it thumbing my nose at the universe to keep declining something, to choose to keep playing small because of a notion of who think I am? I guess you could say I have a bit of an inferiority complex.
Related to this topic, Indian philosopher, poet, and linguist P.R. Sarkar said neohumanism is a philosophy that will “make people understand that they are not merely ordinary creatures. This philosophy will liberate them from all inferiority feelings and defects, and make them aware of their own importance; it will inspire them to build a new world.”
I identify as a neohumanist and that means I’m not ordinary, and neither are you. None of us are. It also means that something divine is working through me, that I’m used as a channel or a conduit. Who am I to say, “No, that can’t come through me”? To be human, it seems to me, requires surrender, letting go, and accepting what is. And sometimes that’s different and bigger than what I imagined.
I dream of a world where we practice true humility, which is an awareness of who we are and a willingness to become all we can be. A world where we accept and surrender to what the universe desires to express through us. A world where we accept sometimes the universe wants more for us than we want for ourselves, and in those cases we are still fully equipped to handle it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Recently I watched an interview with Megan Phelps-Roper, formerly of the Westboro Baptist Church. Westboro Baptist Church is the one that protests funerals, that proclaims Jesus hates gay people, that calls Jews, Jesus killers. Megan’s grandpa founded the church so you could say she was steeped in indoctrination. Through interactions over Twitter, she completely reversed her opinions and now spends time with people she used to hate.
Watching her interview moved me, not only because her story is touching, but also because of her humility. It oozed from her. No longer self-righteous and arrogant, Megan instead recognizes she doesn’t have all the answers, and furthermore that her previous behavior was wrong.
I’m striving to be as humble as a blade of grass. Photo by Chang Qing on Unsplash.
Watching Megan I was reminded of the power of humility. She is able to touch other people, to change them on a deep level, because she doesn’t walk around like a proud peacock proclaiming her glory. I have to admit, humility is a tough one for me. I want to be the best! I want to be number one! I want fame and critical acclaim. If I do something well, I want heaps of praise for it. Give me my gold medal please, thanks. However, I also recognize arrogance only serves my ego, only puffs me up, and is not in service of a power greater than myself.
When we say someone is arrogant, we’ll say they’re full of themselves. Exactly, full of themselves. There’s no room for anyone else or anything else.
My spiritual teacher says one should be as humble as the grass because it bows before everyone and doesn’t pick and choose who to bend for. Why though? Why would he say that? In my opinion, I think it’s because when we’re proud, when we’re self-aggrandizing, we only think of ourselves, and we start setting ourselves apart from everyone else. We’re better than someone else. People are winners and losers instead of fellow human beings. In that sense, pride creates disconnection from others, but I also think it creates disconnection from the divine. If I want to be an instrument for my higher power, there’s no way I can do that if I constantly think I know what’s best. There’s no way I can be an instrument if I’m puffed up on my own self-importance because again, no room exists for anything else.
I often think in order to do anything worthwhile it must be big and grand. I need to be a bestselling author, I need to be a billionaire philanthropist, I need to cure cancer. Megan’s interview reminds me it’s the small actions that are the most powerful sometimes. There’s a joke I heard that says, “What’s the most dangerous animal to humans?” You would think it’s a shark or something, but no, it’s a mosquito. I know a mosquito is an insect and not really an animal, but the point is still valid. A mosquito has the potential to be far deadlier than a shark because of all the diseases it carries. Similarly, perhaps my small actions have more potential than I know.
I dream of a world where we understand the power of humility. A world where we recognize we are one among many, neither better nor worse. A world where we realize humility makes us instruments, allowing for connection among our peers and our higher power. A world where we remember small can be great.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Right now my mom and my sister are in the kitchen preparing our Thanksgiving feast while I’m lying flat on my back in the bedroom keeping my foot propped up. You see my gimp status means I cannot help because I still can’t stand for long periods of time. The best I can do is sit in a chair at the table and cut things up. For someone who is used to helping out this is very humbling. You know what else is humbling? Having to ask for a wheelchair at the airport because the thought of walking from the ticket counter to my gate sounds overwhelming. The most humbling experience (thus far) though is when I called up a friend of mine in tears because I didn’t have enough food to eat and couldn’t go grocery shopping.
I am little Ms. Independent, do everything herself. Having to ask for help because I am literally incapacitated is knocking down my pride in a big way. I want to still be able to do all the things I normally do but I can’t. I have to accept I have certain limitations. I’m also seeing how I’m not meant to do everything myself. Even self-sufficient farmers from yesteryear had to trade for certain dry goods. No person can have everything and do everything themselves. That’s why trade was invented in the first place. That’s also why humans are social creatures. We are meant to live in communities. No person is an island and pretending otherwise only causes harm.
This sprain is teaching me about balance. About how I can neither be completely dependent nor completely independent. My sprain is teaching me about doing what I can do but then asking for help when I need it.
While I’m learning humility in reference to my physical world, I’m also learning about humility on a grander scale. I used to walk around in my everyday life thinking I knew what was up and that I could be in control of everything. I used to think I was completely autonomous and God/my higher power/brahma was this force outside of me that had much bigger problems to deal with than my love life or financial situation or body. God had to handle war and homelessness and global warming. But now I know God works through me as an instrument. That we’ll never experience deux ex machina. No great omnipotent being is going to swoop in and save us. We save ourselves. And how do we do that? By getting our pride out of the way.
I can only speak for myself but I know when I’m proud I’m closed off and think I know what’s best and that I’m fully capable of doing everything. But you know? I’m not. Nor am I meant to. I was put on this Earth with certain gifts bestowed to me by my higher power. Gifts I am meant to use. Other people also have gifts they are meant to use. When I’m proud I deny people the ability to use their gifts and in essence I thumb my nose at God and forsake the gifts He has given them.
In another way I’m depriving people of their ability to serve the Divine. As my beautiful and lovely friend said to me, “I like to treat people as if they were God in human form.” And she’s right. Because I am. Divinity resides within me as well as outside me. When my friends bring me groceries they are showing their love for God and for me. Pride is my way of blocking that love. Why would I want to do that?
I dream of a world where we can all put aside our pride. A world where we realize we all have certain gifts we are meant to share and no one is expected to be completely self-contained and self-sufficient. A world where we allow ourselves to give and receive love. A world where we ask for help when we need it. A world where we all learn the value of humility.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.