A few years ago, I took a men’s weekend workshop. It was filled with all sorts of activities from shadow boxing to eye gazing to yelling at the top of our lungs.
Some of it resonated with me, some of it didn’t.
But there was one exercise that has stayed with me since.
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“I wish I was better at giving advice.”
My housemate was perched in her usual spot, the breakfast nook of our 38-person mansion, thinking out loud.
“Why?”, I asked.
“Because I’ve got nothing to offer when people open up to me. No great wisdom. No sage-like advice. Nothing!”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up.
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