To me, having the courage to tell your own story goes hand in

“To me, having the courage to tell your own story goes hand in hand with having the curiosity and humility to listen to others’ stories.” So spoke Sarah Kay, a poet of our age, yet her words carry the weight of timeless wisdom. In her voice echoes the ancient truth that story is the bridge between souls—the vessel through which one heart learns to understand another. For to tell one’s story requires courage, but to listen—truly listen—requires humility. Both are sacred acts; both are parts of the same divine circle of human connection.

From the earliest dawn of civilization, people gathered around fires to speak their truths. The hunter recounted his trials beneath the stars, the mother sang of birth and loss, the elder told of gods and heroes. Through these stories, the tribes of men learned to see themselves not as isolated beings, but as a single, breathing tapestry of voices. Sarah Kay, like those ancient bards, reminds us that to speak is to offer the self—but to listen is to honor the other. The world turns upon this balance. Without it, we descend into noise; with it, we ascend into understanding.

To tell your story demands courage, for in speaking truth, one stands naked before the world. The poet bares her wounds; the traveler admits his fear; the lover confesses his longing. Yet courage alone is not enough, for if every voice shouts and none listen, wisdom dies. Humility is the soil in which understanding grows. To listen is not merely to hear words, but to enter another’s world—to feel their sorrow as your own, to taste their joy, to walk, for a moment, in their light and shadow. This is the sacred exchange that Sarah Kay describes: the courage of expression joined with the grace of attention.

Consider the tale of Maya Angelou, who as a child fell silent for years after a terrible trauma. She believed her words had caused harm, and so she refused to speak. Yet one teacher, seeing her pain, gave her the gift of listening—not to her voice, but to her silence. In that quiet space of compassion, Maya found her courage again. She began to read, to write, and at last to speak—and her voice would one day thunder across generations. Her story teaches that courage awakens where empathy listens, and listening blossoms where courage dares to speak.

The ancients, too, revered the listener as much as the orator. Among the Greeks, the philosophers gathered in the agora not to preach alone, but to dialogue, for wisdom was born not in monologue but in exchange. Even Socrates, who questioned all, listened with patience to each answer, knowing that truth could only be shaped by mutual understanding. The wise understood that storytelling was a twofold act: to reveal and to receive, to speak and to hear, to be both flame and vessel.

In our modern age, where voices rise in endless chorus and few pause to listen, Sarah Kay’s words strike like a bell in a storm. She reminds us that to share our story is not a selfish act but a gift—a beacon offered to those still searching for their own light. Yet this gift must be given and received with reverence. To listen to others’ stories is to recognize that every human carries a universe within them, and that by hearing them, we enlarge the borders of our own. The brave storyteller and the humble listener are, in truth, one and the same spirit—seeking connection through compassion.

So, children of the future, remember this: courage and humility are twin wings. With one, you lift your voice; with the other, you open your heart. Dare to tell your story—not for praise, but for truth. And when another soul speaks, fall silent and listen, as though you were listening to the wind that carries wisdom from the ages. Every time you share and every time you listen, the world becomes less divided and more whole.

Therefore, let your life be a conversation between the soul and the world. Speak with courage; listen with wonder. Tell your truth not to boast, but to connect. Hear others not to respond, but to understand. For in this sacred exchange of stories, humanity finds its mirror—and in that reflection, we rediscover the beauty of being alive together.