chasing the sun

I have, on occasion, been told that I am wise, or that I at least say wise things. In those moments I feel proud, but awkward, like if these people really knew how foolish I am, they wouldn’t be saying such things. And the thought of being wise or having wise things to say makes me excited because I feel it adds purpose to my life. But it also terrifies me because it’s an encumbrance and I fear becoming that person from whom others continuously expect to hear clever things because when I don’t have answers or advice for them, I will fail them in a sense.

To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if I’m wise or just a skilled observer of the human condition. I mean, if you watch people and really pay attention, not just to what they say, but to what they don’t say, then you begin to understand them and the unifying similarities that we all share.

The other part of that is finding out why people do the things they do.

Why did he say that thing about himself?

Why didn’t she do this when she said she was going to?

Sometimes there are simple answers to those kinds of questions and sometimes not. I like it when I ask why and the answer is not simple and I get to find out something really interesting about a person’s character.

The insatiable curiosity I live with on a daily basis is part of my charm (or so my mother tells me). I like to know why things are the way they are, which is why I like history so much, I think. I love putting the pieces of the puzzle together so they make sense and so I begin to see how this way of thinking or that ideology was able to take hold so easily or be rejected in this or that place.

The same is true of people. When you know why they do what they do and you can get to the bottom of it all, you begin to see what they actually believe about the world and themselves and God – the foundational truths and lies that run their individual universes.

So, perhaps I’m not wise – I just have an inquiring mind.