I don’t shun my critics… I study them. They sometimes mirror the gaps I hide, the lessons I dodge. In their scorn, I sharpen… not to retaliate, but to rise.
Most miss opportunity not because it was absent, but because it whispered. To noticing the patterns, silences, and subtlety can allow to seize the moment.
From dog-eared pages to Bluetooth earphones, I’ve read in every way. What matters isn’t format...it’s surrender. A book is a mirror, no matter the frame.
They not only raised their voice ( norm of that millennials) but they also raised the standard. In their gaze, I found calm. In their habits, a compass. And in their flaws… my own reflection.
I’ve learned that awareness isn’t found in retreats. It’s found in noticing the tea steam, the child’s giggle, the breath before a response. Presence is a quiet revolution.
Responsibility isn’t weight...it’s scaffolding. It’s how I’ve built meaning across roles: son, leader, thinker. And yes, it gets heavy. But it holds me up.
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