The opposite of pride.

I have a lot of pride, which leaves little room for humility.

When humility does finally make an appearance, it’s particularly painful.

I hate it, but I must embrace it. How else am I to learn and grow? After all, no one likes an arrogant know-it-all. Not even me. Maybe because I sometimes act like one.

I posted this on Twitter today:

“Ever have a discussion and call it quits because you will otherwise lose the argument quite spectacularly? I did that today and it bums me out. Still, we learn more from our failures than our successes, so I will endeavor to use this experience to do better next time.”

The person I engaged with accused me of not reading his posts before responding. After thinking about it, to an extent he was right. He didn’t hear me as clearly, either, but that’s the disadvantage of trying to make a point in 280 characters or fewer.

What frustrated (and embarrassed) me the most is how he played me like a well-tuned violin. He inserted “what-ifs” in the discussion that led me to make almost the opposite stance on the issue than I started with. Ugh. I should have seen it at the start and found a way to avoid the trap.

But in my knee-jerk and myopic pride, I stepped right in it. I bowed out of the discussion without concession, but I hope with some grace as I thanked him for being civil the entire time. Which he was. Mostly. He threw out a few subtle insults to my intelligence, but not enough for me to get upset over.

What I learned from this humble (and slightly humiliating) moment is the importance of listening and understanding any opposing view.

This video by Owen Benjamin expresses it better — and by far more entertaining — than I can (some adult language):

If you can’t argue the other side . . .