During my formative years, my Grandma, my father's mother, graced our home with her presence, leaving an indelible mark on my perspective. From my early days until I was around 14 or 15, she shared with me invaluable pieces of wisdom that have echoed through my life. One such gem was her sage advice to ponder, "Will this matter in a year?" — a simple question that often holds profound insights.
Grandma's teachings were a constant source of guidance. Her counsel, "It isn't what they call you, it's what you answer to that matters," underscored the importance of self-identity and resilience. She also emphasized the significance of seemingly mundane tasks, instilling in me the habit of "simply make your bed," a practice that extends beyond physical order into the realm of discipline and mindset.
Yet, of all the wisdom she shared, "Will this matter in a year?" became my guiding star. Through life's intricate tapestry, I've encountered moments of significance and others that quietly faded into the background. Many times, I found myself at tables where hostility reigned at first. Challenged for my thoughts and questioned for my actions, I learned the art of choosing my battles, a skill that parallels broader life decisions. The concept of lasting impact guided my choices — a litmus test for determining whether a skirmish was worth pursuing.
However, I admit that I haven't always chosen perfectly. There were instances when I tolerated mistreatment, realizing that the transient discomfort was a stepping stone to lasting knowledge. And then there were moments when I intentionally veered conversations away from negativity, like the time I passionately blurted, "Kittens are furry!" to shift the discourse.
In the the book “Is this Seat for Me? Overcoming Imposter Syndrome in Everyday life and Business” Roseline, in her own journey, demonstrated the astuteness of discerning what matters. She confronted a harrowing experience head-on by reporting a rape, showcasing her resilience. Simultaneously, she displayed the wisdom to differentiate between isolated incidents and persistent inappropriate behavior. Her ability to distinguish between the ephemeral and the enduring contributed to her triumph over imposter syndrome.
In her story Betsey, too, radiated this profound understanding. In her pursuit of leading a non-profit, she defied arbitrary judgments, cognizant that fleeting perceptions held no dominion over her long-term impact. Her priorities remained steadfast, rooted in her unwavering belief in the significance of her work. Betsey's authenticity and clarity of purpose exemplify the potent fusion of wisdom and humility.
In Grandma's timeless wisdom, in Roseline's tenacity, and in Betsey's resolute stance, I find a recurring theme — the power to discern what truly matters. The question, "Will this matter in a year?" serves as a compass, guiding us toward meaningful battles and illuminating the path toward lasting impact. As I reflect upon these narratives, I am reminded of the enduring strength that lies in the ability to navigate life's complexities with unwavering wisdom and unassuming humility.
Comments