Pride, and Being Proud

There’s always something special about the swell in your chest. Commonly known as pride, it reminds us of the essence of who we are, reinforces that feeling and makes us want to binge on ice-cream or what have you.

  • One of the most important women in my life is living her dream. I have had nothing to do with it, as such, yet I am immensely happy. It’s a funny thing  – pride. You can experience it, even if you aren’t a party to it.
  • I voted today. There wasn’t the slightest hesitation when I pushed the button on the voting machine. I am proud that when I entered the room I was sure of what I would do. It’s a funny thing  – pride. It can be so personal, but it can effect such an enormous thing.
  • In the wee hours of the night, I found time to be with a friend, even if it was for less than an hour before he took off to another continent, to reiterate our values. It’s a funny thing  – pride. You can sense it by way of how you relate with your friends.
  • I helped solve some problems that were personal and important to some people. I had nothing to gain from solving them. It’s a funny thing  – pride. It is never for you, but it can always be yours.

Pride, and being proud, have often captured my imagination. The chest swells. There’s a hint of a swagger. But no slogans are required nor a proclamation. Pride is an ornament that we wear, but an adornment that we never ever need to showcase.

That friend I mentioned in bullet #3, now wears reading glasses. I do too. We are enjoying it. My reading glasses a bit more complicated than his, yet we are enjoying the experience.

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He and I are facing interesting challenges everyday, but we live them together, and we enjoy it; we take a challenge and resolve it with what little collective intelligence that has been bestowed upon us. We are proud of our selves and each other. That’s enough to live this life. If you do not understand what I am saying here, wait, till you have to wear reading glasses.

What was once a blur, comes sharply in focus.

PS: AND imagine, my friend from bullet #3 calls me just a minute before I publish this post.

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