Jack Gindi
I recently read a story about renowned physicist Richard Feynman as a young boy, walking with his father and learning about the world around him. Other children could proudly name the birds they saw. They had memorized them perfectly. But his father asked a different question: “What does it do? How does it move? What makes it different?”
He wasn’t teaching his son to label the world. He was teaching him to observe it. To stay curious. To look longer than everyone else.
Feynman later said the easiest person to fool is yourself.
That line stays with me.
Because I’ve seen how easily we fool ourselves, not with ignorance, but with certainty.
An Open Palm or a Closed Fist
Some people move through life with an open palm. Others move through it with a closed fist.
An open palm is willing to learn. A closed fist fights to be right.
Now here’s something important: I live with certainty. I always have.
When I entered the real estate brokerage business, I was certain of one thing. I would become a top producer. I didn’t know how. I had no connections, no playbook, no roadmap. But I was certain of the destination.
That certainty didn’t close my hand. It opened it.
Because I didn’t know how, I had to watch. I had to ask questions. I studied the best. I followed leads. I failed. I adjusted.
My certainty was about where I was going. My openness was about how I would get there.
There’s a difference.
A closed fist says, “I already know.”
An open palm says, “Teach me.”
When Certainty Turns into Fear
We see this posture in the smallest moments. A disagreement at the dinner table. Feedback at work. A spouse pointing something out. A child asking a hard question.
Something challenges what we believe, and we feel it, that tightening. We defend. We explain. We protect our position.
That tightening can feel like strength.
But often, it’s fear.
Fear of being wrong. Fear of losing control. Fear of discovering we still have more to learn.
The most dangerous certainty isn’t believing you’re right. It’s believing you no longer need to grow.
You cannot receive anything new with a clenched hand. Not wisdom. Not correction. Not even deeper connection.
I learned this the long way.
There were seasons in my life when I believed standing firm meant refusing to question myself. I thought strength meant holding my ground at all costs. Over time, I discovered something humbling: when my hand was closed, nothing new could enter.
Wisdom does not force its way in.
It waits for space.
Naming Isn’t the Same as Seeing
We label situations quickly: “That’s just how I am.” “That’s the problem.” “That’s the answer.”
Once we’ve named it, we believe we’ve mastered it.
But naming isn’t seeing.
Seeing requires humility, the willingness to look again.
And humility is not weakness. It is strength under control.
Our children are watching this more than we realize. They don’t learn humility from lectures. They learn it by watching how we respond when we’re corrected.
Do we listen? Do we reconsider? Do we admit when we’re wrong? Or do we tighten our grip?
Confidence without curiosity becomes arrogance. Conviction without openness becomes blindness.
The Strongest Posture
The strongest posture I’ve found in life is this:
Be certain about your direction.
Stay open about your method.
Be certain about your values.
Be open about how you apply them.
Be certain about who you are becoming.
Be open about what you still need to learn.
Before you leave this thought tonight, ask yourself:
Where in my life am I certain about the outcome but closed to learning the path?
When was the last time I truly changed my mind?
What belief might I be holding too tightly?
Growth does not require abandoning conviction. It requires loosening our grip on how things must unfold.
Wisdom is not something we conquer. It is something we receive. And it can only enter an open hand. Onwards together – with love and gratitude.