Everyone makes mistakes, which is why you should always be wary of anyone who simply refuses to take accountability. It’s not even about the way they make excuses and cast blame on everyone else but themselves…it’s the way that when they can’t take accountability, they can never learn from their own mistakes…so they just keep making them.

Now sure, we could get all into the psychology of it, and talk about how people like this are doing it because they’re too insecure to admit fault, or maybe they always feel guilty inside so they can’t let it show on the outside. Maybe they tie their mistakes too deeply into their own self-worth. But does it really matter?

When the shit hits the fan, and the pressure is on, who do you want on your team? The person who makes excuses, or the person who gets it done?

More importantly, which person do you want to be?

I remember the day I realized that not everyone thought like me. Yes, I know, earth shattering revelation. Yet, if you really think about it, I wonder if some people ever realize that. We all think differently: value different things, believe different truths, trust different perceptions. I guess that’s why communication is so important.

People tend to give others what they would want, whether it’s in advice, help or opinion. The trick is being able to actually listen to someone deep enough to understand what they need, not what you would need in their situation. It’s not that we don’t want to help, or we’re not being genuine…in fact perhaps it’s our rush to help where we get caught. There are no silver bullets, and sometimes we need to listen first before we understand how we can really help.

We can intend to help people all day long, and be passionate and firm in our intentions…and do more harm than good, simply because we keep making the mistake of offering someone else only what we would need, not what they do.

I believe in truth. I believe that truth always prevails, eventually. I do not believe truth is in the eye of the beholder, I believe it is in the facts on the ground and through the process of doubt. Perceptional truth is too easily self-manipulated into what we want the truth to be. Feelings are not truth, and I’m beginning to wonder if they even teach about the Salem Witch Hunt in school anymore.

Today, finally, the facts on the ground were fully laid out and held against doubt, and I was vindicated. That part is obviously sweet.

The bitter part…while the truth vindicated, the truth itself was also really ugly. Sometimes my desire to truly believe in people blinds me from the horrible truth of what they are capable of. That’s never a pretty thing. Sadly, the more you believe in someone, the more bitter the disappointment can be in who they truly are. It’s amazing to me how little regard people can have for others. It’s frightening to see how selfish people can truly be, and the extent to which they are more than wiling to hurt others simply for personal gain.

But the most terrifying thing of all…when you get to peek inside their head, and realize they are not interested in any form of truth, other than whichever twisted version they can latch on to that “justifies” their selfishness, and relieves them from guilt. It’s truly frightening.

There’s a lot of people out there in a lot of pain, and a lot of those people don’t know how to do anything else than to cause pain to others. If you want to be a formative person in this life, then you refuse to contribute. You look at those who cause you pain with empathy, try to understand them and try to help them…because that’s the biggest difference you can ever make. No matter how many bloody noses you get in the process, you never stop trying to help the next person in pain you come across.

That’s how we can all make this world a more civil place. We’ll never do it with intelligence, a witty tongue, blind conviction, bitching about it or zealousness. We can only make a difference, and make this world more civil, with one thing: a good heart.

Words are so very hollow. Anyone can say they’ll be there. But it’s those that are actually there for us, even when it’s the hardest on them, that we never forget. And long after the hollow words of all those hollow faces have faded into the passing sand of an hourglass, it’s the memory of those selfless people who stood up for us, even when we hurt them, that will remain. It’s that memory we will rely on for strength when we are returning the favor to someone else, no matter how hard it may be.

Today I tasted the sweetness of vindication, and choked on the ugliness of the truth I discovered in the process. But it will not change me. There are a lot of people in pain out there, and no matter what, I’ll never stop lending anyone my ear. It’s not the easy thing to do, but it’s the only way I know how to try and make this world just a little more civil.

And I hope everyone understands what I’m saying when I say: there is no one that I will ever refuse to lend my ear to should they need it. No one.

*On a side-note, over the past couple of months there have been more than a few people who have shown themselves to be true friends.  You all know who you are. Thank you, I could not have made it through this without you.  Reciprocation is everything to me, it’s one of the core morals I live by. Trust me when I say, whenever you find yourself in a bad place, I will always be there. And of course, I’ll also always be there with a smart ass remark to contribute amidst the times of laughter too.

Everyone knows of D-Day. Not everyone knows about the preceding Operation Fortitude. Operation Fortitude was a massive deception operation employed by the Allied Forces. Prior to the invasion of Normandy, Allied forces built whole fake armies (including inflatable tanks and jeeps) and staged them in areas of England that threatened invasion of Northern France and Norway. The aim was to divert German forces away from Normandy by convincing them an invasion was imminent at northern France and Norway.

It worked, quite well.

The Germans were tricked into deploying many of their finite resources towards defending two areas that were never even planned for invasion, and away from the central point of attack by the Allies. By the time the Germans figured out what had happened, it was too late, and the diverted resources could not be brought to where the battle was really happening in time.

Wonder was my protective cloak when I was a kid. It may not have kept me safe from scuffed knees, bee stings or even disappointment, but it always kept my moving. Every next step was a chance to discover something new. Even the simplest mundane things were never ending opportunities to explore my imagination. The world seemed an endless realm of information, and I couldn’t ever stop thinking about what was just beyond that edge of what I’d learned so far.

I paused more often then, tomorrow seemed like such a “in the distance concept.” Moments were seldom wasted, I still can’t quite figure out how I seemed to cram so much into little bits of time that today pass in a blink. Every new trail behind my house was a journey through the unmapped. Every new face I encountered was a new friend. Every new bruise was an adventurous story to tell.

As I got older, time sneakily sped up…slipping away more quickly each day. At the same time, my protective cloak of wonder began to slowly erode. Though I’ve never lost my insatiable curiosity, cynicism crept into the void left behind by my retreating child-like naivety. The more notions we accumulate, the harder it gets to see the world around us without pre-conceived notions.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about then vs. now. A cloak of wonder allows us to see the world more purely, but does it really protect us? A wall of cynicism protects us from being fooled, but does it force us to miss some of the subtler, and more enriching, pieces of life. Life is certainly not black and white, and to be honest, I’m glad it’s not. The answer of course is a mixture of the two extremes – one part wonder, one part cynicism. But I don’t know the right ratio.

What I do know is that lately I’ve been remembering how important it is to pause sometimes, and just enjoy the moment. One of the first lessons I ever learned, as a child, and one of the first lessons I was to forget. Being lucky enough to relearn it has been a wonder all in itself.

When I was just out of college, I worked in door to door sales for a few months. Stressful? Yes. But it was also a really great lesson in unpredictability and how to adapt to different personalities, mindsets and emotions. You never knew what you were gonna get at the next door, and that was an experience that I learned a lot from. It wasn’t just lessons for my career.

One door I knocked on was a really nice older mother who bought one of my coupons with a smile and invited me in for a glass of water. It was hot that day, and hiking along concrete suburban trails in a suit and tie wasn’t too comfortable. I remember being in her kitchen, her pouring the glass and then out of nowhere just telling me that her son had committed suicide a few days before. She said it so matter of fact, so out of nowhere – for some reason I just remember the sunlight coming in through the window above her sink.

I didn’t say anything, at first. There are some moments that do not need comments or questions, they just need to be known. When she turned around I caught her hollow gaze and never let go – no words could have convinced her I was really there. That could only be done by the look in my eyes. She told me more about it, the circumstances, the situation, the aftermath…and she never once cried. And I never once let go of her eyes. I wanted her to know that even though I was a complete stranger, I was listening, and trying to understand. Not because I was curious, but because I wanted to be able to help burden that pain for her – if only for the brief moments I spent with her.

I don’t know why, but I find myself in situations like this all the time. My friends and family know this all too well about me…I can’t turn my back on someone who’s wanting to open up, and somehow, even complete strangers sense that about me. Friends ask me why do I do it? Or how do I do it, considering the emotional toll it sometimes puts on me? But the way I see it is, how could you not? The greatest gift we can ever give someone is taking the time to listen and understand them…especially when they’re in one of the harder moments. Even if we are conditioned from birth to revel in the superficial, everyone still gets lonely at times mired in the depths within their own mind. That gets lonely, and sometimes helping someone has a lot more to do with accompanying them than it does offering any silver bullet advice.

Listening is such a simple gift, but it’s also one of the hardest. Sometimes it forces us to see emotions and pieces of life that we don’t feel comfortable dealing with. But I have learned a lot through the experiences, and I like to believe that I’ve helped a few people feel just a little bit better when they really needed it. Each time I take away a piece of the feeling and carry it with me. They help me relate just a little bit better with the next person.

I’ve learned lately that people are going to see in me what they want, and there’s little I can do about it. Most people know this trait in me. But some people think it’s because I’m just curious and want to learn. Others think that I prod and try to extract thoughts out of others. While some others think I simply like to help others so I don’t have to deal with my own inner emotions. People see everything as a reflection of themselves. Projection is such a psychologically powerful insight into the way people truly think. And I am certainly not immune to it.

So if my number one concern when I encounter someone in pain is that they are alone inside their own head and trying to understand enough so that they aren’t, what does that tell you about me?

I once had an ongoing debate with an old friend of mine about intentions. Her position was that the intentions mattered more than the outcome, where my position was that often times the worst outcomes stem from good intentions. The law of unintended consequences is a powerful force that is so often overlooked. People who are hurt from your actions seldom take comfort in the fact that you didn’t mean to hurt them. It honestly was such a surreal perspective to me, and though I tried over and over to somehow relate and understand her point of view…I always knew logically it was horribly skewed.

The irony? In the end she hurt many people, intentionally, while always playing the victim in one of the worst manipulative tactics that can ever be employed – manipulating people’s empathy. Yet when she felt she had the correct audience, one that didn’t know the whole stories and whom she felt she could be completely open with, she would actually take glee in the way that she hurt people. She actually felt better about herself, empowered, by the way she was able to manipulate people’s empathy and hurt them.

Needless to say she is no longer my friend. And I consider myself incredibly lucky that she is no longer in my life. Still, I think back to that ongoing debate and wonder incessantly if there wasn’t something I should have seen more clearly in her incoherent thoughts. I should have known, I believe, right then and there that someone who was claiming that good intentions could somehow assuage the victim’s pain from the inflicted consequences, was dangerous.

But I was blind, and had too much empathy for her. So I defended her constantly, shared with her my own communication methods (which she used to further manipulate others) and protected her from people who she claimed were trying to harm her, but in truth, were actually her victims. My intentions were simple…I saw her as a lonely, under-appreciated, insecure person with so much potential – and I just wanted to help her.

I did end up helping her, but not towards reaching her potential. I helped her hurt a lot of people, by empowering her to do so. And in one of those twists of fate, I now have to grapple with the reality that though my intentions were so pure and good, it doesn’t take away the anguish she caused so many. Even though I thought I was helping a lonely sole with impoverished self-esteem, I was actually teaching a succubus how to inflict more damage.

Every action has a reaction, and a consequence. The sad part of life is that often it’s others who pay the consequences for our mistakes. It does nothing to claim ignorance after the reactions have played out. Instead, it is our responsibility to think about the consequences and reactions, before we act. Anyone who ever claims otherwise, is someone you should stay far away from. Even in the best case, they are someone who does not think about the consequences of their actions, and will simply claim they meant well…while you are left dealing with the aftermath and they are off carelessly acting again.

Sometimes you stumble upon conversations that last for hours, but pass by in minutes. There are moments in life when we come across someone who can turn work into an expedition, otherwise insurmountable challenges into curiosity quenching voyages.

There are those rare times in life when we fall into another set of eyes that are searching our own with a quiet intensity that makes us feel accompanied. And still other times we run into words, from a new voice, that assure us that our inner thoughts don’t simply reside, isolated, in our own head.

If we’re lucky, at least once in our lives, we come across a connection that enlightens us more in a moment than a lifetime of “just another” days, somehow puts purpose to a lifetime of scars and vibrantly shines apart in a lifetime of memories. The type of connection that doesn’t need to make sense, because it just never will…and the truth of it’s purity is solidified by it’s impracticality.

But the hourglass is always running. If we focus only on the inevitability of it’s passing sand, we miss out on the wonderful moment we’ve been lucky enough to be given.

If we make that mistake, as much as we like to make ourselves feel better by telling ourselves there’s a lesson to be learned, the truth is, sometimes we never get a second chance to apply it.

The hourglass will always be there, and it’s sand will never stop passing. No matter how much attention we give it, it’s unstoppable…and the attention we give it, is attention we’re stealing away from the moment.

A new friend of mine recently gave me a sphere of Lapis Lazuli, completely at random, and in the midst of an inquiry I was making about this stone that has captivated attention since ancient times. Ancient Egyptian priests called it “the stone from heaven” because the gold speckles on dark blue pattern of the stone resembles the night sky.

It is believed to help your mind tune into your emotions, reach an emotional balance, improve logical reasoning and allow more insight into complex issues. Heightening your intuition and helping find inner peace are also effects believed to be held in this stone since the ancient Egyptians.

It was such a simple gesture, such a random gift…but it was one of those moments in life when all the pieces just seem to fit together. One of those moments you are given the rare opportunity to realize at the time, that you will look back and remember that moment with refined clarity years later.

I carry the heavy sphere of with me now, in my pocket, and whenever those traces of still lingering worry find their way into my conscious…I reach for the piece of Lapis Lazuli that has become my new companion. It reminds me, vividly, of a clear, cold night a few years ago that I spent exploring a vibrantly alive star scape in sheer wonder. It calms me.

There are pieces of ourselves that only we will ever truly know. Others close to us can relate to our perception, listen to our perception and try to help us shift our perception – but they will never live or feel our perception. Even in their kindest words, others close to us will sometimes leave us feeling disconnected. It is, again, because of those pieces of ourselves that only we will ever know – the memories, the inner thoughts, the internal obstacle courses our emotions sometimes traverse – alone.

I spent over two years justifying something truly beautiful I felt inside to everyone around me, simply because it did not fit the confines of what they deemed conventional and practical – at least from their perspective. I spent so much time justifying it, that I began to feel the need to justify it to myself. But I didn’t need to, they were pieces of myself that only I would ever feel; only I would ever know. My failure to convey it does not diminish the intensity of it, even if I am the only one who will ever understand what it truly meant to me.

As sad as that is, there’s also something calming about it – finally breathing out and accepting that I never had to justify it, that I was wrong for ever feeling I needed to and coming to terms with the reality that no matter the outcome, it was truly one of the most special things I’ve ever experienced.

I have no evidence to prove that this sense of calm is related to the gift I received from a new friend, and now carry with me. But I simply cannot escape the reoccurring feeling that the two are inexplicably connected.

Veritas is the Latin word for “truth.” Someone more versed in Latin would probably correct me here, I’m sure there are a multitude of different tenses and versions of the word…and I haven’t studied Latin since 8th grade…

Perhaps it’s appropriate though. If you’ve ever studied philosophy, the subject of truth is a mainstay, and the debate about whether truth is simply an illusory perception according to the beholder or whether there is an absolute truth is never-ending.

Truth, therefore, is often elusive. Being someone who is constantly digging and searching for the real truth, I find myself encountering more questions than answers. I find that interesting, rather than frustrating, though.

I believe one of the strongest traits a person can have is the ability to openly accept criticism of their ideas and premises to the extent that they can actually learn from opposing views and adapt their own ideas when different, and valid, insights are encountered. Valid is a subjective term of course, and I’m not spiraling down that road right now.

What I’ve found though is that so many people correlate their ideas with their self-esteem. Having a bad idea doesn’t mean anything else other than that, well, you had a bad idea. How can you ever have good ideas if you don’t get through your bad ones first?

I think people hold so stubbornly to truth as they see it, because believing that their version of the truth has holes in it, somehow leads them to believing it’s a direct assault on their self-worth. But again, self-worth comes not from dogmatically holding to archaic beliefs, but alternatively from the process of allowing our beliefs and premises to be challenged, expanded and evolved from the process of doubt.  That’s my opinion anyways.

Truth is very much derived from the perceptions through which it is formulated, and there are as many different perceptions as there are people in this world. Which means there is a lot of room for evolution and adaption of truth. Which also means there’s a heck of a lot to learn in life. And you don’t learn by stubbornly refusing to doubt your own version of the truth, simply because you’re too scared to ever be wrong.

That has nothing to do with doing a disservice to someone else. It has everything to do with doing a disservice to yourself.