I had a period when I was sixteen where I started to get a big

Hear the words of Leonardo DiCaprio, who confessed with humility: “I had a period when I was sixteen where I started to get a big head. I was going through puberty, and I was nominated for an Academy Award. My head got inflated. My friends were the real ones who said, ‘You’re acting different.’ But the truth is that I don’t need that, because I don’t get out of hand.” In this memory lies a lesson not only for the young and ambitious, but for all who walk upon the path of success. For it reveals the eternal struggle between the ego and the truth, between the illusions of pride and the grounding power of humility.

The meaning of these words is simple yet profound: success, especially when it comes early, tempts the soul to inflation. When the world applauds, the heart begins to believe it is greater than it is. The applause becomes food for pride, and pride blinds. Yet DiCaprio, even at that tender age, was awakened by the voices of true friends, who dared to speak what others would not: that his behavior had changed. Here lies the deeper wisdom—that while the world praises, it is often those closest to us who guard us from losing ourselves. Truth often arrives not from the crowd, but from the trusted few.

The ancients warned against the swelling of pride. The Greeks spoke of hubris, that fatal arrogance which led kings and heroes to ruin. Icarus, flying too close to the sun, forgot the limits of his wings. Alexander wept for new worlds to conquer, forgetting the fragility of man. So too, a young actor, blessed with fame at sixteen, might easily lose himself in the glitter of honor. Yet DiCaprio’s account shows that by listening to the words of his friends, he escaped the fate of hubris, returning to the steadiness of humility.

Consider also the story of Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome. Though he ruled the known world, he constantly reminded himself in his writings: “Do not be intoxicated by glory, for it is smoke and ash.” Surrounded by flatterers, he sought the discipline of truth, writing daily to humble his spirit. Like DiCaprio, he recognized that greatness without grounding leads only to destruction. Both reveal that the antidote to pride is not withdrawal from the world, but the cultivation of honesty and humility amidst it.

DiCaprio’s reflection also shows the importance of friends who speak truth. A man without such companions is like a ship without anchors, drifting into storms. True friends are not those who praise us in our pride, but those who dare to correct us, who hold a mirror before our eyes when we forget ourselves. The applause of the many feeds the ego, but the honesty of the few feeds the soul. To reject such voices is folly; to heed them is wisdom.

The lesson, then, is timeless: do not let success swell your heart beyond its measure. Be vigilant against the creeping arrogance that whispers when you are praised. Seek out the voices of truth in your life—the friends, the mentors, the family who remind you of who you truly are. And above all, remember that applause fades, but character endures. Truth, not pride, is the foundation of a lasting life.

Therefore, O child of tomorrow, walk the path of humility even as success comes to your door. Do not despise honors, but do not worship them. Hold close the friends who tell you the truth, even when it stings. For fame may inflate the ego, but truth deflates it into its proper shape. And remember DiCaprio’s confession: we do not need pride, because pride blinds; what we need is grounding, so that we do not get out of hand.