I like to be right. ⁠

No, let me repeat that with a little more fortitude - I love to be right, and I go to great lengths to make sure that you know that I am right. ⁠

The crazy thing is that my need to be right can come about in the smallest, most insignificant arguments - the color of the new Amazon Prime trucks (grey or blue?), or the quickest route home from the exit off of 95. Who cares, right? ⁠

A wise friend once asked me to consider what would happen if being right was not the end goal, so I tried. It’s not easy to change a deeply ingrained habit, but I made the choice to loosen my grip. I took my focus off of my own opinions and my desire to change yours; I put my hand over my mouth and held my breath. ⁠

And after gulping in a mouthful of air, I didn’t feel less convicted in my beliefs, but I found I had more room to listen, to learn, and to see that there are other ways, that maybe I am wrong. Sometimes. ⁠

Remember the Dr. Seuss tale about a north-going Zax and a south-going Zax, and they “came to a place where they bumped…foot to foot face to face”.

Both were trying to get to their desired locations but neither Zax was willing to budge so they stayed right there, and the world grew around them.⁠

And we can stay right there too. We can dig in our heels.⁠

I never much liked that ending, so with all due respect to the good doctor, might I suggest:⁠

But those two stubborn Zaxs started to talk. ⁠

And they talked and they talked until they started to walk.⁠

And they forgot that they stood in each other’s way and found that there were better things to do with their day.⁠

They had differences, too many to tally. ⁠

But it was exhausting to stay enemies, so they became allies. ⁠