So if the last My Thought holds—

if I have allegiances…

and they show up in how I think and how I talk…
 

and if some of the voices we talked about become louder because I trust them…

then there’s another question underneath all of that:

What happens when the voice I trust
isn’t mine?

And no—

I don’t mean voices that aren’t real.

I mean the voices outside myself.

Because whether I like it or not…

I learn from people.

I have learned from a lot of people.

You may have noticed I like stories about and from others.

We all do.

Think about it—

a story you heard, or saw, or found, that meant something to you.

It’s surprising how often that happens to me.

Stories that changed the way I saw the world.

Sometimes profoundly.

Teachers.
Friends.
Parents.
Books.
Professors.

Speakers of many stripes.

People online who somehow became experts

because they own a ring light, a microphone, and a camera.

(Some of them are probably very good at it.)

And honestly—

that’s not a bad thing.

Most of what I know came from someone else.

Or at least started there.

Language.
Ideas.
Music.

Ways of seeing things.

Even the way I organize my thoughts
was shaped by other people.

So this isn’t really about rejecting teachers.

It’s about something else.

How easily admiration turns into surrender.

Not surrender to a person exactly—

more the surrender of owning my own thoughts.

That shift happens quietly.

At first, someone just explains something well.

And there’s relief in that.

Especially when something confusing
suddenly makes sense.

But over time…

it becomes easier to stop questioning the explanation

because I trust the person giving it.

Then eventually—

sometimes without noticing—

I stop exploring

and start repeating.

I’ve caught myself doing this.

Quoting ideas I hadn’t fully thought through.

Agreeing with things mostly because they sounded right.

Or because I liked the person saying them.

That’s uncomfortable to admit.

Especially because I genuinely value learning from people.

There’s an old Zen phrase I’ve always found beautiful.

Though honestly…

the Buddha would probably gently chide me for liking it this much.
 

The phrase says:

“If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.”

Which sounds aggressive.
 

And probably difficult to explain to law enforcement.

But the point isn’t violence.

It’s almost the opposite.

The point is that when someone is smart, articulate, convincing—

and fits naturally into the way I already think—

it becomes very easy
to hand authority over to them.

But the moment someone becomes the final authority—

thinking starts to close.

Even if the teacher is wise.

Maybe especially then.

Because the more convincing someone is…

the easier it becomes to hand them parts of myself

I should probably remain responsible for.

That doesn’t mean teachers are useless.

Far from it.

Some people open doors
I never would’ve found alone.

But eventually there’s a shift that has to happen.

A moment where something opens unexpectedly.

Where the learner has to become responsible
for their own thinking again.

Not isolated.

Not disconnected.

Just… responsible.

And maybe that’s the strange balance.

To learn deeply from people
without becoming dependent on them.

To borrow wisdom
without surrendering agency.

I’m not sure there’s a perfect way to do that.

But I think it probably starts
by remembering that even the people I admire most…

are still people.

Limited.

Biased.

Working with partial views of things
just like the rest of us.

I remember driving home from work one night when I was young.

I worked at a small convenience store as the night clerk.

It was about 6:00 in the morning after a long night shift.

As I was driving, I looked over and saw a little old man being helped into a car by a much larger man 

who I assumed was his driver.

I looked once.

Then I looked again.

Because I recognized him.

He was someone I had listened to during important moments of learning.

He was articulate.

Powerful.

He had an incredible grasp of the  Subject.
 

But in that moment…

I learned something I didn’t know before.

He was just a little old man
who needed help getting into a car.

Not a criticism.

Just a door opening where I didn’t expect one.

Suddenly, I understood something differently.

He was simply a man.

And later I started thinking about others
I admired.
 

People who taught important things.
 

People whose ideas changed the way I think.

Some changed my life.

And yet—

they also had weaknesses.

Blind spots.

Moments where they failed.

Moments where they were simply human.
 

And maybe the best teachers know that.

At the very least—

it might help to pause once in a while…

and ask:

“Do I believe this because I understand it…”

or

“because I trust the person saying it?”

Those aren’t always the same thing.

​

Maybe I will add a couple more pieces

​

Sometimes someone I never thought I would agree with, says something I can't argue with,

 

as much as I want to.

​

And the second is even if someone is imperfect, it might be best to listen. 

​

Every lesson I learned about life that was important, came because of my own weaknesses. 

​

Noticing the difference—

might keep the conversation open
a little longer.