I’ve been at odds with myself today, with Pride at the center. Pride—the chief cause of dissatisfaction. Pride—the shiny name for hubris, the cobblestones on the road of perfectionism. Pride—that which leads away from everything good.

I do not mean the type of “pride” that suggests being grateful or joyful for what life brings, or even being pleased in pleasing one’s family or friends, or the delight in a job well done for the effort we put in.

I mean the kind of pride that makes one inert and flat-feeling. It is a pride which squishes, by making us think we have the ability to do everything and perfectly and without experiencing consequences from thinking so. It is that pride which seeks constant recognition of itself.

In searching myself for my faults this past year, I find pride to be central…I have only just begun to study it and turn it around and round.

So Readers, I ask you: What is the nature of Pride? Does it have a use, and if so, what? Are there good types of pride, as distinct from bad types?

To gather true joy seems to require a state of gratitude…gratitude, for both the good and bad experiences which make us who we are, in turn requires a feeling of humility. Any room for pride, readers?