As a teenager, I had a compulsive need to be right and look knowledgeable. I could be really annoying. In particular, with friends and family.
Once, at dinner, I was doing my usual "I know it all" act with my father, who was a very patient man. At some point, probably fed up with my attitude, he started talking without pause. Anytime I tried to step in with my perspective, he kept talking without giving me any chance to say anything. After a. few minutes of this, when he saw that I couldn't handle it anymore, he stopped and told me, "See how easy it is to be right if you keep talking and never listen?"
I didn't understand immediately. I thought he was making fun of me. And he was, but he was also teaching me a lesson that took a few more years to learn.
My father left school when he was 8 years old. He didn't study all the things I knew. But he was a wise man. He didn't speak much, but he knew how to listen. And every word he said was chosen with humility and wisdom.
I'm so tempted to speak out on many topics, particularly on social media. And I did, probably more than I should.
A week ago, I came back from a week without technology. When I checked my smartphone and saw the many conversations that started while I was off-grid, I felt the urge to share my perspective. And I did. Once. And after that, I immediately realised that I was doing that only to feel relevant again. To be seen and acknowledged. To feel that I wasn't left out.
It was like returning to my teenage self and his desperate need to be seen and look important. Somehow, that conversation with my father came up.
I don't need to be right.
I don't need to prove that I know about anything.
But I can read. I can listen. I can learn.
And I can do.
Knowledge speaks, wisdom listens. — Jimi Hendrix