Now you know better, so do better.

“The unexamined life is not worth living” — Socrates

This summer, I spent an inordinate amount of time reflecting on the work I’ve done over the years. What am I proud of? What worked and what didn’t? But, most importantly, what impact have I had — both positive and negative? This post is mostly about my work in global health, but the exercise of examining can ,  and ought to , be applied everywhere.

I have always been drawn to act, to make ideas a reality. When I see an injustice, I can’t explain why, but every fiber of my being is agitated until I can’t take it anymore and I have to try to make it right.

I am a doer. It’s my nature.

The more I examine my place in this work, the more important it becomes that my doing is grounded in deep introspection and awareness if I am truly going to have the impact I want to have without negative unintended consequences. Sometimes I have been guilty of rushing in and doing when I should have taken more time to listen and to learn first.

“I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.”

— Maya Angelou

I tell you this because I believe that it’s important to look back and consider our mistakes so that we don’t make the same ones again. I also tell you this because, in the age of filtering and presenting our very best selves, I don’t think enough people talk about the hick-ups.

I totally understand why. This is hard, and this work is hard. Really hard. Big, thorny, sensitive, and hard. It’s difficult to truly step back, to examine yourself and the work that you do, and to fess up. But if you do so honestly, you can see where you went wrong and you can rectify the situation.

Now and moving forward, I aim to maintain a sharpened self awareness. I put my camera away when it’s not appropriate. I listen more instead of being quick to speak. I study context, history, and culture before I attempt to offer suggestions. I look for people who are already doing the work themselves instead of reinventing the wheel. I am careful about the narratives I tell others, and myself. Most of all, I consider the consequences and impact of my presence or engagement.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to right the wrongs, to reallocate the resources, and to fight injustices. But while we are busy dreaming up solutions, we need to focus on the consequences of our choices, behavior, influence, and ignorance.

So, yes! Let’s aim for big impact and big change. Let’s enter into partnerships and dialogues. Let’s make this world a more wonderful place to live. But, while we’re at it, let’s also critically examine our lives, our actions, our impact, and where we fit into this picture.

The work is too important to skip this step.

With great privilege comes great responsibility.

We like to hide from the idea that we were handed more only because of sheer luck. We point to our hard work, our own struggles, anything that makes the weight of it a little less... heavy. If you are reading this on a computer, have a roof over your head, and clean water, you are immensely privileged. The ones who are graduating from university, writing, working, thinking, and creating. If this is you, you are one lucky SOB and maybe you can relate to what I’m going to say next.

Privilege presses down with a feeling one can only describe as guilt. It’s hard to look into the world and see so much suffering, when you have been born into a world of magnificent abundance. Some people realize this and avert their gaze - would rather pretend it doesn’t exist than let the heaviness creep in. I’ve been there, and it shames me to say that I too have looked away. But, I made a decision to take a good hard look; to stare down the problems at hand.

And to be honest, it sucks.

Because, deep down we know that things shouldn’t be so damn unfair. Kids shouldn’t die of diarrhea, people shouldn’t have to walk 20 miles to see a doctor (if there’s even a doctor there), drinking water for an entire population shouldn’t be brown and disease-laden, and the list can go on.

There’s a strange feeling that lingers after you finally realize your good fortune. It’s deeply uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in the knowledge of what you have and others don’t, and in discomforts that come from work in alleviating these disparities of fortune. People don’t turn away because they are bad people. It’s just that for some, the pain of knowing is too much to bear.

We all know to some degree about bad things, unfair things, happening in the world. These ugly facts are all around us, but it is a personal choice whether or not you let them sink in. To enter your soul, and to stir up your spirit. Because, if you let them sink in, it means you have to act. And acting is the hard part.

Once you open your eyes, though, doing nothing is no longer an option. You are in the position to alleviate the suffering and injustice around you. You who have the education, the tools, the food, the security, the wealth, by comparison, are compelled to make a dent.

Decide to act in the face of all this unfairness, working towards a tomorrow where everyone has access to the same things that allow you and I to be reading and writing on this incredible platform - water, food, housing, healthcare, and education.

Pursuing these ideals is hard, and many may call me naive, but we can all envision a world in which everyone is granted the same opportunities to succeed.

Something else happens when you let the heaviness penetrate your heart and decide to act: Fulfillment and light creep in right along with the darkness. Because what can be more fulfilling than acting in accordance to the things we value the most? Things like love, community, generosity, teamwork. The Golden Rule we all recited when we were 5 years old.

You won the lottery at birth, and with that comes tremendous opportunity. I argue that it also comes with a responsibility to those that weren’t quite so lucky.

Use your gifts as a force of good in the world. Decide to rise in the face of so many problems.

Let's get to work.

What do you care about?

It’s my greatest strength; my biggest weakness. It defines me: I care. I care about patients long after we meet. Especially the ones who we couldn’t help. About big issues, ones I know I can’t possibly solve alone. About poverty, hunger, and all of our ideas that just might change it all. About people who I’ve never met in places I’ve never been.

I care about creating magic and delight. About being generous and creating honest connection. I care about whether or not you feel heard and important. Because, you are.

I care about meaning and adventure. And about love.

I care so much sometimes it hurts. I care even though it makes me the weird one. And even though caring necessarily means taking responsibility.

I care enough to put in the time, to make the call, and to do the work. Enough that I don’t mind asking lots of questions or saying something stupid.

I care about change and about making a dent. I care about you. and me. and them. and what it all means. I know you do too.

So tell me, what do you care about?