He was the star of the evening. The milling crowds at his entrance, the serried ranks during his speech, all were riveted on him. Over six feet, with a sunshine-breaking-through smile, a comfortable-in-his-body ease, a natural confidence, reinforced by his current nothing-to-lose circumstances, a quick wit, a clear and informal voice, he looked ready for the attention he was accorded.
What he was going to say had already been published so those who objected had had time to formulate telling replies, and those who were disappointed, could itemize its inadequacies. So all he had to do was say it, which he did in a way that showed how much potent the vision he was articulating was for him. Impossible, improbable, desirable or not as his proposals might be, he portrayed himself as undismayed, undeterred, indefatigable, irrepressible.
I love looking at you looking at the people around you. I love tracing your words back to thought operations in your mind. I love watching your basketball player's loose grace. Your words, your sentiments and convictions: I've heard them all before, but I love hearing you articulate them again.
I've disagreed with you, and been frustrated by you, and sometimes just perplexed, but as often uplifted, proud, encouraged and pleased. You're your own person and I trust you.
Others don't, of course, and have their reasons (or not.) But I do and pretty consistently since I first had a chance to concretely show my support. What is trust, then? You spoke several times about a 'trust deficit,' but that's easy to describe: a certain wariness, reluctance to engage, unwillingness to depend on.
Trust doesn't seem to eliminate these things completely but mutes them in favor of a positive conviction of reliability. Trust is sure that the basic principles of a person are still operative, not matter what we might see or hear at any moment.
One of the standard moments in dramas is when that in which the one proven trustworthy says to the suspicious, 'Why didn't you trust me?' Why indeed? 'I just couldn't be sure,' or some variant is the reply. Of course, the opposite is often true; the scam artist has the undying loyalty of the gulled.
In fact, most people I work with I trust, if not their judgment at least their intentions. The smooth commerce of our days relies on this trust, not absolute, not unlimited, but ready and actionable. The cheater wouldn't be as attractive an entertainment option if actually the norm.
Still, when I think about active trust instead of default trust, I always think of the crises when contrary evidence compels me to look again at what I'm sure I know about someone. Time often clarifies the truth, and the trend lines of successive crises are also illuminating. Yet, we can be mistaken. I hate it when I've mistrusted someone unjustly, not because of my embarrassment but my failure. I should have seen.
Well, I've followed you for years. Early on, I became convinced that you knew what you were doing, understood what was going one as well as anyone else, and that your heart was in the right place. I think so still, and it was good to see you show it off. My judgment is on target, not for my sake alone, but for that of all who watched.
What he was going to say had already been published so those who objected had had time to formulate telling replies, and those who were disappointed, could itemize its inadequacies. So all he had to do was say it, which he did in a way that showed how much potent the vision he was articulating was for him. Impossible, improbable, desirable or not as his proposals might be, he portrayed himself as undismayed, undeterred, indefatigable, irrepressible.
I love looking at you looking at the people around you. I love tracing your words back to thought operations in your mind. I love watching your basketball player's loose grace. Your words, your sentiments and convictions: I've heard them all before, but I love hearing you articulate them again.
I've disagreed with you, and been frustrated by you, and sometimes just perplexed, but as often uplifted, proud, encouraged and pleased. You're your own person and I trust you.
Others don't, of course, and have their reasons (or not.) But I do and pretty consistently since I first had a chance to concretely show my support. What is trust, then? You spoke several times about a 'trust deficit,' but that's easy to describe: a certain wariness, reluctance to engage, unwillingness to depend on.
Trust doesn't seem to eliminate these things completely but mutes them in favor of a positive conviction of reliability. Trust is sure that the basic principles of a person are still operative, not matter what we might see or hear at any moment.
One of the standard moments in dramas is when that in which the one proven trustworthy says to the suspicious, 'Why didn't you trust me?' Why indeed? 'I just couldn't be sure,' or some variant is the reply. Of course, the opposite is often true; the scam artist has the undying loyalty of the gulled.
In fact, most people I work with I trust, if not their judgment at least their intentions. The smooth commerce of our days relies on this trust, not absolute, not unlimited, but ready and actionable. The cheater wouldn't be as attractive an entertainment option if actually the norm.
Still, when I think about active trust instead of default trust, I always think of the crises when contrary evidence compels me to look again at what I'm sure I know about someone. Time often clarifies the truth, and the trend lines of successive crises are also illuminating. Yet, we can be mistaken. I hate it when I've mistrusted someone unjustly, not because of my embarrassment but my failure. I should have seen.
Well, I've followed you for years. Early on, I became convinced that you knew what you were doing, understood what was going one as well as anyone else, and that your heart was in the right place. I think so still, and it was good to see you show it off. My judgment is on target, not for my sake alone, but for that of all who watched.
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