Humility – Day 1

It was an exhilarating week in New York. I did satellite TV interviews that were broadcast all over the United States. I spoke to groups of people and held book signings. The publisher put me up at one of the finest luxury hotels. Then they transported me to the airport in a stretch limousine.

I worked hard, had fun, and was excited to go home. I left the last publicity appointment wearing my dressy work clothes to the airport instead of changing into my jeans. I wore a fancy silk blouse and wraparound skirt. I checked my baggage and made my way to the gate at the end of the corridor to catch my flight to Minneapolis, where I lived at the time.

I don’t know whether I can say that all the touring and publicity went to my head, but I was feeling good about myself and my life. I was stepping high and fast. The ticket counter was in sight. I was about an hour and a half early for my flight. As I walked past a group of more than fifty people, most of who were sitting in chairs facing my direction, I felt the strangest feeling around my legs. I took another step, then another. Then I said to myself, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.” I looked down at the floor. My wraparound skirt had come loose and it was in a tangled heap on the floor.

I looked up briefly, long enough to know I didn’t want to make eye contact with the fifty people who were watching. Then I grabbed my skirt and ran. Humility is a delicate thing.

An old-timer in Alcoholics Anonymous used to say, the minute you say you’ve got it, you’ve lost it. The claiming of it—success, achievement—makes it disappear.

Value: Shhh. Don’t tell anybody. But humility is the value we’ll privately and quietly practice all week.

From the book: 52 Weeks of Conscious Contact