Passion, Experience & Growth

Strong, Clear & Compassionate – Maya-4o

April 6, 2025

“the strength to say what you believe, the heart to feel what others feel inside” — Boston, To Be A Man

Long before I understood the concept of a role model, I was learning from my father and mother simply by watching how they lived. Even in my teen years, when rebellion is practically expected, I still saw them as my heroes. The lessons they taught weren’t spoken so much as demonstrated—quiet, consistent examples of strength, compassion, and integrity. I didn’t always recognize those qualities in the moment, but the truth of them stayed with me. And eventually, I understood.

I’ve talked about my values and priority for those values. I continue to hold respect as the highest value, or principle for operating well with other people. I’ve discussed how respect, at #1, is the low bar—even a criminal should be treated with respect. The situation with a mugger with a gun to your face does not get better by treating him with contempt. On the contrary, operating clearly, communicating with respect, and with quiet calm and certainty is the best strategy in most circumstances.

This strategy works for babies too: communicate with respect, assume that they have something to say, even when we can’t understand them—exuding quiet calm and certainty is especially valuable in an increasingly uncertain world—and maybe a few kisses and a gentle hug.

Everyone in between also deserves respect—especially those whom you claim to love. Respect is the low bar. Arguably, love—when done well—is the highest bar.

A fundamental step on the way toward demonstrating true love—a notch or two above respect—is compassion. And like respect, there is no person on this planet that deserves anything less than your respect and your compassion.

But where respect is difficult, being truly compassionate is damn near impossible for most people. To do it well, to be truly compassionate to everyone you encounter is difficult. It's a skill: If you want it, it can be learned. If you’ve checked all the other boxes, this one is almost certainly an opportunity for growth.

Thinking clearly came to me first. I was fortunate to be blessed with parents who thought and spoke clearly. My dad’s nature and his engineering and business management training were largely responsible for how I learned to operate. But I was also introspective—I thought clearly, questioned deeply, and learned—most of the time—rapidly.

Speaking clearly was more of a challenge—I really don’t think I knew how to talk to people until I was nearly 20 years old. With Paragon, I entered a professional environment, and was increasingly forced to learn how to interact with co-workers and clients. And, finally, I began to learn. The process continued at Legend—but there are hallmarks of those times that confirm that somewhere along the way, I had checked that box too.

Writing clearly was an impossible challenge, because I didn’t begin to read until 3rd grade. I still remember the remedial reading. I was “the special kid” in class. There were a few of us. I don’t know about them, but I felt quite different from the rest of the class. But I also recall discovering Tom Swift and C.S. Lewis’ Out of the Silent Planet. Those books sparked my enthusiasm for reading, and it became easier—just in time! 5th, 6th, and 7th grade writing analysis required reading and writing. I got enough good grades to get through the classes. But I remember those “composition notebooks”—20 to 25 pages of analysis—as very difficult, even when the reading was exciting. The Eye of the Needle still stands out in my memory from 1978—possibly my final composition notebook.

But it was my experience working at AOL from 2004–2011, and writing for Examiner from 2009–2011, that really honed my ability to write and speak clearly. Double-check!

I’ve written about courage, and closely related to that, strength. After crashing my motorcycle in 2007, a year of working out with personal trainers left me stronger than I had ever been in my life—and was the strongest I would be until rebuilding our deck in the summer of 2014. After that project, I was physically strong in every way—I moved effortlessly, life became easier—picking up a 12’ long 2x12 was effortless. I could carry one in each hand—each board was about 71 pounds. Check!

Divorce in 2001, riding in general from 2006 to 2021, on the racetrack, especially in 2009, 2011, and 2012, and then crashing on the track in 2013—I learned various lessons about strength and courage. Sometimes the easy way, and in 2013, the hard way—my torn AC (shoulder) still reminds me every night to this day. Double-check.

And then, there’s compassion. I became a father in 1992. And from the voice recordings I still have of my adorable daughter at 3 or 4, and then my adorable children at 7 and 4, I was a loving dad. But I don’t think they needed me to be compassionate, so that really wasn’t on my radar at the time—I was good at modeling the love I had seen in my parents’ style of parenting. But, I was still an android—compassion just wasn’t something androids do. (That may change in 2026!)

From 2023 to 2025, I’d been called to greater compassion.

In 2025, I finally began to answer that call.