When Righteousness Gets in the Way: The Courage to Question Ourselves

 Information spreads faster than truth can catch up. This is the second part of a three-part series invites you to pause, reflect, and rediscover the quiet strength of discernment. As seniors, our life experience gives us a special kind of wisdom, the ability to look deeper, question gently, and share carefully. Together, let’s explore how understanding, humility, and truth can guide us in what we read, believe, and pass along.

There’s a certain comfort that comes from being sure of ourselves. After all, we’ve spent a lifetime forming opinions, learning lessons, and gathering experiences that shape how we see the world. But sometimes, that very certainty can get in the way of understanding. It’s easy to confuse confidence with truth, especially when what we believe feels right, familiar, or deeply rooted in our values.

The truth is, we all like to feel we’re on the side of what’s right. No one wakes up thinking, “I’d like to spread something false today.” Yet even the best of us can fall into the trap of sharing something online that isn’t accurate, especially when it supports what we already believe. Social media has a way of playing to our convictions. The posts that get shared most often are the ones that confirm our feelings, whether that’s anger, pride, fear, or outrage. They invite us to react quickly, not thoughtfully.

For those of us who grew up in a different kind of information world, this can feel disorienting. Once upon a time, the printed word carried weight. A newspaper or a radio broadcast went through layers of checking before it reached the public. We didn’t have to question every headline. Today, anyone can write a post or share a story, and while that freedom can be wonderful, it also opens the door to confusion. The loudest voices often get the most attention, but loud doesn’t always mean true.

That’s where the courage to question ourselves becomes essential. It takes strength to pause and ask, “Could I be wrong about this?” It’s not about self-doubt, it’s about humility. It’s the recognition that none of us, no matter how experienced, can know everything. Wisdom doesn’t mean never being wrong; it means being willing to reconsider when new facts emerge. That kind of openness doesn’t make us weaker. It makes us wiser.

Sometimes, we mistake righteousness for truth. We get swept up in the belief that our view is the only correct one. And in that moment, we stop listening. We stop learning. When that happens, even good intentions can lead to misunderstanding. Online discussions turn into arguments. Friends drift apart. The simple act of being “right” can start to matter more than being kind or accurate.

But what if we looked at questioning ourselves not as a threat, but as a gift? What if, instead of clinging to certainty, we treated curiosity as a strength? Imagine how much more peaceful our online spaces could be if everyone paused before reacting, if we all asked, “Is this really true? Is this helpful? Is this kind?” That’s how respect grows: not through insistence, but through understanding.

Age gives us a unique advantage here. We’ve seen how the world changes and how ideas that once seemed absolute can evolve. We’ve watched technology reshape communication, medicine rewrite health, and science challenge what we thought we knew. That experience teaches us that truth is not fixed, it grows as knowledge grows. If we can keep our minds open to new understanding, we not only stay wiser; we stay younger in spirit.

It’s worth remembering that misinformation thrives on emotion. The more a post makes us feel outraged or afraid, the more likely it is to be shared. That’s not an accident, it’s how many falsehoods spread. So, when something feels too extreme to be true, it’s often exactly that. Our emotions can be powerful indicators. If something online stirs a strong reaction, that’s the moment to pause. Take a breath. Look again. Ask questions.

Self-questioning isn’t about silence or withdrawal, it’s about thoughtful participation. It’s about contributing to conversations with care instead of impulse. It’s about recognizing that truth doesn’t need to shout to be heard. It speaks softly, and it stands the test of time.

There’s real courage in admitting, “I don’t know.” There’s dignity in saying, “Let me check before I share.” These small acts of honesty strengthen the very fabric of trust in our families, our communities, and our digital circles. They remind others that thoughtfulness still matters, even in a world that rewards speed.

When righteousness gets in the way, humility clears the path. And humility, far from being a weakness, is the quiet companion of wisdom. It’s what allows us to keep learning, to keep growing, and to remain open to truth wherever it may be found.

So, the next time you come across a post that demands you “wake up” to some urgent truth, remember this: being awake doesn’t mean reacting faster. It means seeing clearer. True awareness comes not from proving others wrong, but from having the courage to question ourselves first.

The mark of a wise person isn’t that they never change their mind, it’s that they know when to. And when we choose humility over righteousness, we don’t lose our power. We gain clarity, peace, and a deeper understanding of what truth really means.

That’s the quiet strength of wisdom in action. And it’s something the online world could use a lot more of.

The Truths That Be: When What We Believe Isn’t Always So

In today’s fast-moving digital world, information spreads faster than truth can catch up. This three-part series invites us to pause, reflect, and rediscover the quiet strength of discernment. As seniors, our life experience gives us a special kind of wisdom, the ability to look deeper, question gently, and share carefully. Together, let’s explore how understanding, humility, and truth can guide us in what we read, believe, and pass along.

In today’s world, information travels faster than the morning news. A single post, photo, or quote can circle the globe before breakfast. We scroll, we read, and sometimes, without meaning tom, we share. Most of the time, our intentions are good. We want to help others stay informed, feel inspired, or be safe. But sometimes, what we pass along isn’t quite as true as it seems.

It’s easy to forget that speed and truth don’t always travel together. What spreads quickly online isn’t always accurate. And yet, we live in a time when the loudest voices often drown out the wisest ones.

As seniors, we’ve lived long enough to know that truth isn’t always obvious. Experience has taught us that things are rarely as simple as they first appear. We’ve learned that even good people can misunderstand or misinterpret facts. But with so much information at our fingertips, it’s harder than ever to tell what’s real.

The quote says it perfectly:

“Lack, disease, and discord always, and only, stem from misunderstandings of the truths that be.”

When we misunderstand what’s true, about health, relationships, politics, or even our own community, confusion follows. A post about a new “miracle cure” might offer false hope. A rumor about a government change might stir unnecessary fear. A claim about a friend or public figure might spark discord.

It’s not that people set out to deceive others; often, they simply share what they believe. But when misinformation grows unchecked, it can divide families, worry friends, and spread fear.

The first step to understanding truth is awareness. That means pausing before reacting. When something you read online makes you feel angry, anxious, or overly certain, that’s your cue to slow down. Real truth invites calm reflection, not panic.

Ask yourself:

• Who wrote or shared this?
• What do they stand to gain?
• Can I find this same information from a trusted source, like a news outlet or health authority?

If the answers aren’t clear, hold back. The truth doesn’t vanish when you take time to check it.

We’ve all had moments when we were sure we were right, until life taught us otherwise. Perhaps we misheard a story, misunderstood someone’s intentions, or drew the wrong conclusion. Those moments can be humbling, but they also shape wisdom.

The wise are not those who never err, but those who learn from their missteps. Each misunderstanding brings us closer to clarity. Each correction strengthens our ability to discern truth from noise.

And yet, in today’s world, humility is rare. The internet rewards certainty, not reflection. But reflection is what keeps us grounded. It allows us to say, “I’m not sure yet,” or “Let me check before I share.” Those words protect both our reputation and the trust of others.

The most powerful “truths that be” are simple: kindness, curiosity, respect, and honesty. When we hold these values close, misinformation has less room to grow. Instead of reacting to every post, we start to see the patterns. The stories designed to divide us lose their grip.

Truth doesn’t demand urgency, it invites understanding.

So, the next time you see a post that stirs strong feelings, take a breath. Ask questions. Seek confirmation. If it truly matters, it will still matter an hour from now.

We live in extraordinary times, times that connect us in ways our younger selves could hardly imagine. But connection without discernment can lead to confusion.

Our role, as the elders in our communities, is not only to share wisdom but to protect it. To question what we see, to verify what we hear, and to spread truth rooted in compassion, not reaction.

Because when we understand the truths that be, we help heal misunderstandings before they become discord. We model what real wisdom looks like in the digital age: calm, curious, and kind.

And that is how we keep truth alive, one thoughtful click at a time.

The Can of Condensed Problems: Why Your Food Bank Donation Matters Now

I had a showdown with a can of cream of mushroom soup in my pantry last weekend. It wasn’t its fault. It was just sitting there, a cylindrical testament to a recipe I never made two years ago. My first thought was, “Well, you’re going to the food bank.” It was a classic case of what I call "Pantry Guilt Charity", donating the items you don't want to clear your conscience and your shelf space.

But then I stopped. I pictured someone else opening that can, a person for whom this wasn't just an extra ingredient, but their entire meal. I imagined the label: Cream of Mushroom Soup. Now with 10% more existential dread. I put the can back. The food bank, I realized, deserves our first fruits, not our last regrets.

As the calendar flips to November, a subtle shift occurs. The air gets crisper, the days get shorter, and our collective focus turns to warmth, family, and the approaching holiday season. It’s a time of abundance for many. But for a staggering number of our neighbours, this time of year amplifies a silent, desperate struggle: the struggle to put food on the table.

The period from November through the winter is the “perfect storm” for food insecurity. Heating bills begin their annual ascent, threatening to swallow up grocery budgets. Holiday-related expenses, even small ones, loom large. For families already walking a financial tightrope, the approach of Thanksgiving and Christmas isn't just stressful; it’s a crisis. This is when the local food bank transforms from a helpful resource into a critical lifeline.

Let me tell you about my friend, Sarah (not her real name). Sarah is a smiling, capable, wonderful person you’d see at the school gate. She’s a single mom who works part-time while going back to school. Last year, around this time, she confessed to me what her life was really like.

“You know what my greatest luxury is?” she asked me, without a hint of self-pity. “It’s buying the name-brand cereal my son asks for. Not because it’s better, but because it means I don’t have to say ‘no’ to one more thing.” She described the “monthly math” she performs, a complex equation of bills, tuition, and gas money, where food is almost always the most flexible variable. “The week before my student loan comes in,” she said, “my dinners are what I call ‘creative.’ A can of beans is a feast. Pasta with butter is a ‘carb-loading night.’”

She finally visited the food bank after weeks of internal debate, wrestling with a feeling that she was taking help from “someone who needed it more.” What she found wasn’t a place of pity, but one of profound relief. She got a bag of groceries that included real coffee, and she told me she cried in her car, not from sadness, but because she could have a hot cup without feeling guilty. The food bank gave her more than food; it gave her a fragment of her dignity back and the energy to keep going.

So, back to my cream of mushroom soup. This November, let’s change our donation mindset. Let’s banish the “Pantry Guilt Charity.” Instead of asking, “What don’t I want?” let’s ask, “What would I be genuinely grateful to receive?”

Think of it as building a “Box of Dignity.” Here’s the challenge:

• Skip the Sad Can: Donate the good coffee, the real peanut butter, the olive oil. These are items of choice, not just sustenance.
• Think Nutrition, Not Just Fullness: Peanut butter, canned tuna and chicken, beans, and whole-grain pasta provide lasting energy.
• Add a Splash of Joy: A box of hot chocolate packets, a jar of gravy for a holiday meal, or a bag of candy for a child’s lunchbox. These small comforts are massive for morale.

The need is urgent, and it’s now. The holiday season highlights the gap between the haves and the have-nots. This year let’s bridge that gap with compassion and thoughtfulness. Let’s ensure that for families like Sarah’s, the only thing condensed this November is the soup in a donatable can, not the weight of their worries.

Please, give generously to your local food bank. Give the food you would proudly serve at your own table. As good as it feels to drop off a bag of groceries, food banks can stretch a cash donation even further. Where I might spend $20 on a couple bags of canned goods, the food bank can turn that same $20 into hundreds of dollars’ worth of food, thanks to their partnerships with wholesalers and farms. They know how to make every dollar count. So, if you can, consider adding a cash gift to your holiday giving. It multiplies your impact. Because no one’s dinner should ever be described as “creative.”

Look on the bright side day 2

 Weather Report

My joints are more accurate than the Weather Channel.
Yesterday my elbow said, “rain is coming.” Sure enough, it poured.
If my knee ever says “tornado,” I’m just grabbing a helmet and trusting it.

Yoga Class
I told my doctor I was taking up yoga.
He looked worried and asked, “With RA, how’s that working out?”
I said, “Great — I invented a new pose: ‘The Stiff Pretzel.’ You just sit there and look impressive while not moving an inch.”

Grocery Shopping
With rheumatoid arthritis, grocery shopping is a full workout.
Push the cart = cardio.
Reach for the top shelf = weightlifting.
Open the pickle jar when I get home = boss level, final challenge.

Doctor’s Office
My rheumatologist asked me to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10.
I said, “Is sarcasm allowed on this scale?”

The Silver Lining
Having RA means I’ve got built-in excuses.
Can’t dance at weddings? RA.
Don’t want to help someone move a sofa? RA.
Forget where I put my glasses? Okay, that one’s just me.

Exercise Plan
They say exercise helps with arthritis.
So, I started small: wrist curls with a coffee cup.
Next week, I might graduate to lifting the whole donut box.

Family Gathering
My niece asked me why I move so slowly.
I told her, “Because I’m just buffering.”

RA Support Group
At the support group, we joked that living with RA is like being a smartphone.

·         Battery drains fast

·         Overheats randomly

·         Needs frequent recharging

·         And if you drop us, good luck putting us back together.