Humility from recognizing how good you are

Great art takes ambition (and maybe a dash of hubris).

I was complaining to Jen, one of my key advisors, about my reluctance to train music teachers.

"I just don't want to insult them by teaching them about something so basic," I said.

"I'm going to say something that might sound strange," she said. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe this stuff isn't actually basic?"

I was stunned. This was a perspective that I hadn't considered, and yet it seemed so obvious once she had said it.

In fact, these weren't the basics. These were fairly advanced concepts that it had taken me fifteen years to develop. The fact that they were very simple in practice and had become obvious to me didn't negate the fact that they wouldn't necessarily be obvious to someone else.

After that conversation with Jen, I considered many aspects of my work and discovered the same arrogance. I was impatient with people for not knowing what I knew and not seeing what I could see.

There's a strange paradox: Humility requires us to fully own our strengths and recognize our gifts and expertise. Only then can we make the best use of those gifts. In the process, we'll better understand and appreciate both the limitations and the talents of others.

We have to see clearly how good we are. Otherwise, our understanding of ourselves will be limited and distorted. This, in turn, impacts our ability to see others clearly.

If I believe that I'm doing something that anybody else can do as easily as I can, I will make big errors in hiring, training, mentorship, and more. I'll alienate people instead of helping them or leading them.

I might also make the parallel mistake of believing that something that is difficult for me is just as difficult for others, which might mean that I don't bother seeking the support and guidance that could make a difference.

On the other hand, if I'm willing to take the uncomfortable step of acknowledging that I'm actually accomplished in a certain area or have a special knack for it, I have much more to offer.

And at the same time, I'll have a better context for realistically assessing the accomplishments and potential of others, which is relevant both in offering guidance and accepting it.

I was a very good music teacher precisely because I struggled to learn music. I related to the challenges my students were facing and developed my own materials and methodologies to address them.

Ironically, my skill and insight as a teacher became a blind spot. Guiding other teachers has been profoundly difficult for me because I can't see what they can't see. I have only been successful to the extent that I acknowledge that, as Jen pointed out, what I'm sharing isn't basic. Believing that anyone can do what I do isn't humility--it's haughtiness. It's not as useful as acknowledging the specialized expertise I've built up.

We're discouraged from saying how good we are because we don't want to be conceited. But our adherence to that particular social rule impairs our self-knowledge, inhibits beneficial conversation, reinforces imposter syndrome, and distorts reality. Wouldn't it be refreshing if we could all just be straightforward about what we're awesome at?

You have unique abilities, skills, and insights that are largely invisible to you because you've had them for so long. To downplay them probably doesn't do anyone any good at this point. Which ones have you taken for granted? Which ones have you shoved in a box under the bed because you were discouraged from manifesting them? And which ones were you surprised to discover were unusual (and perhaps hid out of self-consciousness)?

I am guessing that, like me, you have "basics" that really aren't basics. What would happen if you were to embrace the notion that you have a powerful talent in a particular area?

I hope you will continue to share your incredible power with the world. It's an act of service. That's the humility we need from you right now.