Threads. The many colored elements of life which seem to appear randomly, then reappear curiously, until finally revealing some aspect of a greater tapestry that can only be seen with time, distance, and perhaps the flash of insight. Interestingly, the “thread” element has recurred for me in multiple places this week, prompting some reflection on the nature of these strands that often link the seemingly unrelated signals of our lives.

Reading a book in a hotel room a few weeks ago, I found myself struggling to get into it. I was interested in the topic, the table of contents revealed focus and order that appealed to me, and the author’s general worldview seemed to align with my own. I literally put the book down and asked myself, what’s the problem? My conclusion was style. The word choices, the sentence structure, and the flow just weren’t working for me. Talking through it with Sally later, she suggested that perhaps his was more of a speaking style that, when converted to the written word, didn’t resonate as well with me.

May we all have such generous voices to sometimes counter-balance our lesser tendencies.

I put the book down and moved on.

Introducing a speaker at an event last week, I shared some anecdotal observations on my own experience with her as a student in one of her classes. “One of the key things Dr. Ordway taught me was to approach any written work with intellectual humility so that the author’s insights might be understood clearly and received without our own bias.” Intellectual humility. Hmm. That lesson from her class had been filed away, like so many learnings, as one more part of my mental library, appreciated, collected, and put on a shelf.

Reflecting on that thread of learning shelved so many months ago, I thought about the book I had put down. Was it quality of writing that barred my way or my own biases? My mind wandered to another classroom in another era. The year was 1985 and I was a new student at the very large John Marshall high school in San Antonio, Texas. I was in an English class full of “honors” students who all seemed to me to be so worldly, knowledgable, and confident. I was in 11th grade and didn’t know what to expect of an honors class but one sense of it was provided by Mrs. Clanton in an early admonition to her students: beware of your own intellectual arrogance.

Returning to July 2026, John Adams came to mind. An intellectual and articulate giant of the American Revolution, his great convictions were often burdened with the weight of his own pride and vanity, which frequently needed buffering by his wife, Abigail. A line from Abigail in the HBO series John Adams, sums it up: “John, you must be patient with those you find less intelligent than yourself.” Laura Linney deftly delivers a message that is at once sincere, tongue-in-cheek, and profound. You are smart but it is not about being right and your pride hampers your effectiveness.

More threads. Returning to the lessons of Dr. Ordway, I remembered what followed in the “why” behind the need for intellectual humility. We must receive, understand, and see the reality of what is being shared, before we can properly judge it. If we don’t approach with humility, our own preconceived notions, conclusions, and biases may block us from a deeper, unseen truth. It may or may not be there, but we will never know if we don’t allow ourselves the opportunity to discover it by suspending judgment until we’ve received its reality.

We all have a great need to be right. This fundamental disposition is the most basic element of pride and a great barrier to peace, joy, and enlightenment in our world. C.S. Lewis wrote of the “heart” as the human organ of discernment, the ability to judge rightly. A well-formed chest is able to recognize truth and act virtuously in response to it. Approaching a text, an idea, or an argument, with intellectual humility is pre-empting the prideful comparison of my rightness and your wrongness in order that we might see reality before making judgment. It is an act of virtue and requires great self-discipline. It is also very difficult.

Author and academic, Jordan Peterson offers us a guiding principle in Rule 9 of his 12 Rules for Life: Assume that the person you are listening to might know something you don’t. Another great thread in the weaving of a Good Life.