More the Mangoes, Lower the Branch.
A few years ago, while travelling in the Far East, I happened to meet a Buddhist monk. I don't remember everything we talked about. But I remember one thing he said to me. He asked: “Bob, have you ever noticed what happens to a mango tree when it has many mangoes?” I hadn't. “The more mangoes it carries,” he said, “the more its branches bend down.” He paused. “Perhaps nature is reminding us to be humble.” I have thought about that conversation many times since. Because it is such a simple picture. A young tree can stand tall and straight, reaching proudly toward the sky. But when the fruit arrives, something changes. The branches begin to bow. Not because the tree has become weaker. Because it has become fuller. There is something rather beautiful about that. And perhaps there is something rather human about it too. We sometimes see the opposite in people. Someone gets a little success, and suddenly they need everyone to know about it. Someone becomes important, and they stop listening. It is almost as if the tree were saying: The more you have to offer, the less you need to prove. That thought has stayed with me. And it has made me look differently at the people I have admired most. Some of the truly remarkable people I have encountered were not the loudest people in the room. They didn't need to remind you how accomplished they were. They asked questions. They listened. They could say, “I was wrong.” They could laugh at themselves. And somehow, you felt a little better about yourself after spending time with them. Perhaps that is one of the quiet powers of humility. It makes room. Room for another person's opinion, story, dignity and friendship. There is an interesting lesson here for our relationships. Pride often asks: “How important am I?” Humility quietly asks: “How important can I make you feel?” Those are very different questions. And they can lead two people to very different places. These may seem like small things. Because sometimes, relationships are built out of small things. Of course, humility isn't pretending that you aren't talented. It isn't making yourself smaller. It isn't allowing someone to walk over you. It is simply being secure enough in yourself that you don't need to make someone else feel smaller. And perhaps that is why aggression so often creates distance, while humility creates an invitation. I had always considered myself a reasonably humble person. But after that conversation, I became more conscious of it. The unnecessary need to have the last word. The temptation to tell someone how much we know. The difficulty of saying “thank you.” The reluctance to say “I'm sorry.” None of these moments looks important on its own. But sometimes, little things can have a large impact. And the opposite can be true too. A little humility here. A willingness to listen. A generous “you were right.” A quiet “thank you.” So, as you go through your day, you may find yourself thinking of someone. Someone who has achieved a great deal but never made you feel small. Someone who taught you that being impressive and being humble can coexist. Maybe you have been fortunate enough to know such a person. And maybe, without realizing it, you have become that person for someone else. Who is the person in your life whose greatness has never made you feel small? Until tomorrow, Bob
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