Humility is not a matter of beating ourselves up. It is not a question of judging ourselves as stupid or sinful, as hopeless and bad. Who are we to judge these things? Humility, it seems, is the gentle acceptance of that most tender place inside ourselves that throbs with the pain of separation from the Beloved. It is that deep knowingness that identification with the false self brings nothing but further separation. It is an initially reluctant dropping down into the emptiness and an ultimate experience of peace when we stop doing and rediscover simple being . . . when we heed the call to cease creating and remember we are created.
"You don't need a big sister," Lulu said, "you need a friend. I'd much rather be that."
"Okay," Emily muttered shyly. "Only I don't know why. I'm just a kid."
"You know things most adults don't even think of. You care about the same things I do. That's a lot of what a friend really is. And you're strong. I've needed that. And you share your world, and you don't judge it. Those are very grown-up things; and Emily, I can't name one of my so-called friends who have them all."