Practising What We Preach

If there is anything I have discovered about people, it is that they can give advice and not take it themselves. They can, for instance, advise you to count your blessings often and then waste their time wallowing in hate, guilt, worry and jealousy. That's interesting, isn't it?

I have to confess that I have also been guilty of dishing out advice and then finding it hard to live by it. And that has happened many times since I was a student at Starehe Boys' Centre, a prestigious institution in Nairobi where I had my high school and college education. Okay, let me tell you more.

In January 2007 when I was in my final year at Starehe, I gave a series of three speeches in which I challenged the students to think like geniuses. I winded up my final speech by warning them that if they didn't learn to think like geniuses, their lives would become boring and uninteresting.

Those speeches, which I delivered during three consecutive evening assemblies, were really inspiring going by the feedback I received from the students. I also felt good about what I said in the speeches, the best I ever gave in my years at Starehe.

But you know what? Two years after delivering the superlative speeches, my life became boring and uninteresting following my diagnosis with a mental illness at the university where I was pursuing an engineering degree. Imagine I would sleep till as late as 1:00 p.m. A miserable wretch I was.

And my failure to practise what I preached didn't stop there. Since I turned over a new leaf in 2016 and started sharing truthful and original stories on this blog, I have set resolutions and offered numerous pieces of advice which I haven't followed.

In one blog story about courage that I wrote in 2018, I resolved to never fear saying "no" to people. But just a few months ago, I found it difficult to utter the word "no" when responding to an invitation by the vicar of a nearby Anglican church to be playing piano in his church.

And in another story I shared in 2019, I encouraged my readers to laugh when troubles come, for we can't have all play and sunshine everyday. Ironically, I became depressed later on that year after a guard instructed me to settle down in one place during a wedding reception I attended. So depressed did I become that I was unable to get out of bed in the morning for two or three days.

Such inability to keep my soul happy using the knowledge in my head reminds me of a dog described in a poem I came across in John F. Kennedy's Profiles in Courage. The poem read:

There was a dachshund once so long
He hadn't any notion
How long it took to notify
His tail of an emotion.

And so it happened, while his eyes
Were full of woe and sadness,
His little tail went wagging on
Because of previous gladness.

In some other blog stories, I resolved to look people in the eyes and to not be afraid of anyone. But you know what again? Even after writing down those resolutions, I have kept falling short of displaying manly qualities.

After Mum died early this year for example, I would sometimes feel shy and self-conscious when chatting with the people who came to condole with us. That shyness made me realize I am yet to gain enough courage to come out of my shell.

Then several months ago, my brothers hired a valet named Jeremiah, a middle-aged man who would have made an excellent policeman given how strict he was, to be looking after our aging Dad. And yikes! I sometimes felt like jelly when talking to him. The thought of requesting him to do something filled me with trepidation.

Jeremiah must have noted my shyness and naivety judging by the way he started talking back to me and asking me to carry out some tasks. His attitude towards me aggrieved me to an extent of making me explode with rage. In my anger, I bawled him out while pointing at him with my fingers.

My initial lack of courage kept me from setting clear boundaries with Jeremiah right from the start, boundaries that would have prevented him from talking back to me. But such is life; we don't fully appreciate a resolution or a piece of advice till life throws curveballs at us.

Indeed, I have preached water and drank wine. By failing to keep my resolutions and to follow the advice I have offered others, I have acted like the Pharisees who Jesus accused of not practising what they preached. I will strive to better myself, to talk the talk and walk the walk - a wonderful trait for you to acquire as well, my beloved reader!

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RECOMMENDATION: If you've enjoyed the above story on practising what we preach, you might also enjoy another one on "Part 1: Handling Criticism" which I wrote a couple of years ago. Just click on that link in blue to dive straight into the story.