A long time ago, I made a blog post about taking responsibility for my own conscience, instead of adhering to somebody else’s value system in order to belong.

The premise was that it’s better to carry a moral compass in my own hands, because nobody else ought to be doing that for me.

I still think that’s true, but also I think there is more to the story. There usually is.

A personal sense of right & wrong is deeply intertwined with our connections to other people, other lives.

The conscience that is built alone, from scratch, is always going to be missing something.

I have found that letting a stranger’s story tug at my heartstrings hard enough to change my mind is a potent kind of magic. It almost feels too powerful for one person to hold.

Holding my moral compass in my own hands is sensible, but it won’t help me get where I’m going unless I’ve got a map of the world to navigate by.

If I tried to draw that map based only on where I’ve been and what I’ve been through, it would be a terrible map. Even with the best compass in the world, that map would still get me ridiculously lost all the time.

I think that map ought to be woven from a thousand voices and perspectives and stories that aren’t mine.

Listen as hard as you can, all the time, and let the things you hear and understand inform your perspective. Seek out the masters of storytelling and poetry. Ask the librarians. Talk to the children, the elders, the stranger sitting across from you, the people you’ve known for a long time without ever knowing them well.

It’s alright, you are still allowed to have a mind that is full of questions. Nobody can ever take that away from you.

Dear one, you’ve got two ears, and you’ve only got one mind.

That’s where your heart comes in.

I hope it’s a good night.