The other day a friend said something that I disagreed with. Strongly. My gut response was to set her straight, point out the flaws in her thinking. Fast.

But it happened to be the day I spend an hour listening to someone older and wiser than I am, who tells me patiently and in a wide palette of language that opinions are not my friend. That day he had told a story about two boys looking at the clouds. 

"See that cloud? It looks like a tiger." The older boy pointed at the sky.

"A tiger? I am scared of tigers!" The smaller boy shivered.

"No, it's not a real tiger. See, it is already floating away." 

Thoughts are no more real than clouds. They float in, they float out. There is no need to give them ferocity and teeth. 

I reconsidered the need to respond to that woman. She said something. Did it matter if I felt differently? Would her life be enriched by me coming down like a thunderbolt to strike her words? Would mine?

When I was younger I remember wondering what it would be like when I was more mature and knew the answers. There was one time when my uncle, who was one of the wisest people in town, had been part of a conversation over a catered dinner. Another person at the white clothed table blurted out an obnoxious statement, and my neck snapped back to hear my uncle's rebuttal. But he just took a breath, took a sip of his water, and smiled. This was his chance to be right! Was he going to let it just float by like a cloud? 

Yup.