The prompt asks for a quote that describes my outlook on life. I could easily borrow one from Marcus Aurelius, James Joyce, or any number of great thinkers whose words have influenced me over the years. They all deserve a place on the shelf.
But the older I get, the more I realize some of the greatest wisdom I’ve ever received never came from a book. It came from living, making mistakes, listening, and paying attention to the people around me.
Growing up, we had an expression: “I’m dropping jewels. You need to pick them up and put them in your bag.” At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate what it meant. Like most young people, I thought wisdom belonged to someone else. Years later, I discovered those jewels had been waiting for me exactly when I needed them.
Some came from my parents, who taught me through their example long before I understood the lessons. Some came from my stepmother, whose observations often seemed unrelated to whatever we were discussing. Then, months or even years later, one of those “jewels” would quietly return at precisely the right moment.
Others came from ordinary conversations. A coworker once showed me a better way to do something. As I thanked her, she simply smiled and said, “No one knows everything.” That single sentence taught me more about humility and teamwork than any leadership seminar ever could.
Then there are the jewels my grandchildren have unknowingly dropped into my own bag. One granddaughter looked at me one day and said, “Peepaw, you like lived a whole life.” Another caught me struggling with something I had done thousands of times before and laughed, “Peepaw, it’s like you forgot your Peepaw.” Children have a remarkable way of speaking truth without ever trying to sound wise.
That’s when it finally occurred to me that wisdom doesn’t travel in only one direction.
From our first breath, we are both teachers and students. We don’t become one and then the other—we are both at the same time. Every conversation holds the possibility that we might leave with a jewel or quietly place one into someone else’s bag. You can find them in a grocery store, at a ball game, sitting on the front stoop with a glass of sun tea, or even waiting in line at the DMV. (Let’s be honest—everybody needs a little kindness after waiting at the DMV.)
I still admire the great philosophers and writers. Their words continue to challenge and inspire me. But I no longer believe wisdom belongs only to famous names or leather-bound books. It lives in ordinary people having ordinary conversations, if we’re willing to listen.
This is the way of humanity.
Memoirs of Madness 