This is The Nooner, a (very short) daily newsletter slash podcast that has its very own section within Dispatches from Inner Space.
To see the first post, which doubles as an explainer, click here.
The hubris of a fragile ego
It’s amazing how the more consistently I write and speak and publish, the louder a certain voice in my head shouts that I have nothing valuable to say. That I am a boring man entering his middle age, leading an unremarkable life, succumbing to the easy comforts of his privilege.
That this effort to write, to speak, to share, is hubris. That decency itself dictates I shut my mouth, still my fingers, and listen instead.
But I do listen. I listen to everyone. And I try to pay close attention.
This is the only reason I have anything to say.
And so the only voice I ought to ignore is the one who encourages me not to ever say anything.
Because that voice is coming from inside the house. It’s my own ego, frightened and defensive, so allergic to judgement that it would immunize itself by being the earliest and harshest judge of all.
Whenever I sit down to type, whenever I turn on the mic to speak, I am only trying to say something true and useful.
Of course I will not always be successful. That doesn’t matter. It’s not really up to me whether any of my words help anyone. All I can do is what I’m doing.
The animating secret of this work is that if some of the things I write or say *are* true and useful, even sometimes, then my effort is not wasted.
I am not especially talented in especially many ways. But I like words and they seem to like me.
The greatest hubris of all would be to mind my fragile ego, and give up trying to do whatever good I can with whatever good I’ve got.
The hubris of a fragile ego