THE TRUE MEASURE OF SUCCESS

 

 

Three questions came to me recently from three different readers:

What is success really?

Is life ultimately about making money and then dying, or is there a deeper purpose to our existence?

How do we remain faithful to the enduring principles of life in a world that is changing so rapidly?

Different questions. Different people. Yet, to my mind, they are asking essentially the same thing:

Why are we here, and what does it mean to succeed at being human?

That question deserves more than a motivational answer.

If we really want to understand the purpose of life, we must begin even further back. We must first ask:

What is man?

Because until we understand what man is, we cannot properly understand what he is here to accomplish. And until we understand what he is here to accomplish, we cannot possibly know whether his life has been successful.

WHAT IS MAN?

Man is not merely the physical body we see.

At his core, man is spiritual.

The physical body is extraordinarily important, of course. It enables us to function here on earth. Through it we work, build, experience, relate, learn, serve and make decisions. But the body is not the innermost man.

The human spirit began its journey like a seed, bearing within itself the potential for development but not yet the maturity that must eventually be attained.

Think about an ordinary seed.

Within the tiny seed lies the potential of the tree. Yet nobody points to the seed and calls it the fully developed tree. Something must happen. The seed must enter the right environment. It must experience conditions that awaken what lies within it. It must grow.

So too with the human spirit.

Earth-life is part of the great school in which we are given opportunities to experience, decide, learn, develop and mature. Through our choices and their consequences, something is being formed within us.

This immediately changes the question we should be asking about our lives.

Instead of merely asking:

What have I acquired?

Perhaps the deeper question is:

What am I becoming?

THE WORLD IS NOT WITHOUT ORDER

If earth-life is a school for our development, then we must understand the environment in which that development takes place.

And here lies something fundamental.

Creation is not chaotic.

It operates according to immutable Laws established by the Will of the Creator.

We encounter order everywhere.

Planting and harvesting. Cause and consequence. Attraction and repulsion. Growth and decay. Giving and receiving. Movement and development.

We may understand some of these processes scientifically and remain ignorant of others, but our ignorance does not suspend them.

You do not have to believe in gravity before gravity acts upon you.

In the same way, the Laws woven into Creation do not wait for our approval.

They work.

The great task before man, therefore, is not to invent his own truth and somehow force Creation to accommodate it. It is to recognise the Laws of Creation, understand them and live in accordance with them.

Therein lies one of the deepest purposes of our existence.

For these Laws do not exist to imprison man. Properly understood, they work towards his welfare and development.

When he lives rightly within them, he experiences their support.

When he persistently violates them, he experiences the consequences.

This is why life can be a remarkable teacher.

The consequences of our decisions are constantly speaking to us.

THEN WHAT IS SUCCESS?

This brings me back to the first question:

What is success really?

We live in an age in which success is increasingly measured by visibility.

How much money do you have?

What do you drive?

Where do you live?

How many people report to you?

How many followers do you have?

How important is your title?

How powerful are the people who take your telephone calls?

There is nothing inherently wrong with wealth, achievement, influence or material comfort.

Let me emphasise that.

Poverty is not spirituality. Wealth is not wickedness.

Money can build schools. Money can feed families. Money can create employment. Money can finance innovation. Money can support worthwhile causes. Money can give its possessor the freedom to accomplish tremendous good.

But money is a means.

The moment it becomes the ultimate measure of human worth, something has gone terribly wrong.

If the purpose of life were simply to accumulate wealth, then the richest person at the cemetery would have won.

But won what?

Everything material eventually remains here.

The mansion remains.

The bank account remains.

The titles remain.

The businesses remain.

Even the body through which we accumulated them remains behind.

What, then, has actually been gained by the human spirit?

That is the question.

A person may therefore be extraordinarily successful according to society's measurements and yet have failed in the central purpose of his existence.

Equally, another person may never become famous, never accumulate enormous wealth and never exercise political or corporate power, yet leave earth-life inwardly richer, freer and more mature than when he entered it.

Which of the two has truly succeeded?

REAL POWER

There is another misconception worth confronting.

Human beings have always been fascinated by power.

Some seek it through wealth. Others through political office, social status or control over other people. Still others imagine that spiritual power can somehow be acquired through elaborate acts of self-denial.

So we encounter the idea that if I fast on particular days, avoid my spouse for months, refuse to speak to anyone for weeks, deny myself water for an extraordinary period, or impose some other rigid regimen upon myself, I will somehow become spiritually powerful.

But what if such practices are merely unnatural?

What if spiritual development is much simpler and, at the same time, much more demanding?

Because it is considerably easier to abstain from food for a day than to master envy.

It may be easier to withdraw from people for a week than to treat them justly when our interests conflict.

It may be easier to perform an impressive religious exercise than to control arrogance when power comes into our hands.

Real spiritual development cannot be reduced to outward performance.

Nor does worldly authority make anyone invincible.

History is littered with people who once commanded armies, controlled nations, accumulated enormous fortunes and appeared untouchable.

Where are they now?

Go and ask the tyrants of history how permanent earthly power proved to be.

Real power lies somewhere else entirely.

It begins when the human volition increasingly comes into harmony with the Will of the Most High.

That is power.

Because the person who willingly aligns himself with the Laws of the Creator is no longer struggling against the order that sustains Creation.

He begins to move with it.

WHAT, THEN, ARE WE HERE TO BECOME?

We are here to become true human beings.

Not merely successful professionals.

Not merely wealthy men and women.

Not merely respected religious people.

Not merely influential citizens.

True human beings.

Human beings who stand awake and alert within Creation.

Human beings whose thinking, speaking and acting increasingly accord with what is right.

Human beings who use wealth without worshipping it.

Who exercise authority without becoming intoxicated by it.

Who can achieve without becoming arrogant.

Who can suffer without becoming bitter.

Who can disagree without becoming unjust.

Who can lose something material without losing themselves.

Who recognise responsibility alongside every privilege.

Who understand that every decision sets something into motion.

And who therefore move through life consciously.

Such a person gradually becomes inwardly free.

And this brings us to something remarkable about genuine success.

It is not entirely dependent upon circumstances.

A person can have money and possess it.

Another can have money and be possessed by it.

A person can have little materially and still carry peace within.

Another can possess enormous wealth and live in constant fear.

One person can enjoy excellent health yet be inwardly tormented.

Another can pass through illness while remaining inwardly luminous and composed.

One can be surrounded by people and still live in loneliness.

Another can experience conflict around him without allowing hatred to take possession of his spirit.

This does not mean that pain ceases to hurt or that difficulty becomes pleasant.

It means that our innermost state is no longer completely at the mercy of external circumstances.

That is a different kind of wealth.

AND WHAT ABOUT A RAPIDLY CHANGING WORLD?

This brings us to the third question.

How do we remain faithful to enduring principles when everything around us appears to be changing?

Technology is changing.

Business is changing.

Artificial intelligence is changing work.

Social conventions are changing.

Institutions are changing.

The ways we communicate, learn, trade, travel and form relationships are changing.

And they will continue to change.

But here is the distinction we must make:

Forms change. Principles do not.

We should not confuse faithfulness to eternal principles with resistance to progress.

Use new technology.

Learn new skills.

Build businesses.

Create wealth.

Travel.

Innovate.

Explore.

Compete.

Write books.

Develop artificial intelligence.

Build cities.

Enjoy the legitimate fruits of human ingenuity.

But while doing all these things, remain anchored to what does not change.

Honesty does not become obsolete because technology advances.

Justice does not become old-fashioned because society becomes more sophisticated.

Responsibility does not disappear because an algorithm makes the decision easier.

Love of neighbour does not become irrelevant because communication has moved online.

The Laws of Creation do not require updating because humanity has invented faster computers.

The world may change around us, but the fundamental task of the human spirit remains.

To recognise what is right, to choose it freely, to live it, and thereby to mature.

THE QUESTION TO CARRY WITH US

Perhaps, therefore, the question we should ask at the end of each day is not simply:

What did I achieve today?

Ask also:

What did I become today?

Did today's success make me more grateful or more arrogant?

Did today's disappointment make me wiser or more bitter?

Did I use the power entrusted to me responsibly?

Did I act fairly when I could have taken advantage?

Did I recognise an opportunity to help?

Did I correct something within myself?

Did I bring peace or disturbance?

Did I move a little closer to living in accordance with the Will of the Creator?

These are not small questions.

They go to the heart of why we are here.

Make money, certainly, and use it well.

Build.

Create.

Prosper.

Serve.

Love.

Learn.

Enjoy the beauty of this world.

But never mistake the instruments of life for its purpose.

For ultimately, success is not merely about what we manage to gather around ourselves during our brief years on earth.

It is about what awakens and matures within us.

The truly successful human being is one who increasingly learns to recognise the Will of the Creator in the Laws that govern life, willingly orders his life accordingly, and stands ever more freely, brightly and joyfully within Creation.

Such a person possesses something that circumstances cannot easily give and cannot easily take away.

Whether rich or poor.

In health or sickness.

Applauded or misunderstood.

In comfort or adversity.

He carries peace where peace matters most:

within his spirit.

And perhaps, when everything else has been stripped away, that is the success that truly counts.

AI IS GETTING SMARTER. ARE WE?

 

Artificial intelligence has brought humanity to an uncomfortable but necessary question.

For generations, we celebrated our ability to calculate, remember, analyse, write, translate and solve difficult problems. We built schools around these abilities and called those who excelled at them intelligent.

Then AI arrived.

Machines can now calculate faster, search more widely, analyse more information and increasingly perform intellectual tasks that once demanded years of human training. AI has therefore done something more profound than automate work. It has challenged our definition of intelligence. 

Perhaps we have been asking the wrong question.

The question is no longer simply, “What can human beings do?”

It is, “What can human beings become?”

If our value lies principally in processing information, we may eventually lose the contest. Machines will become faster and more capable. But perhaps our mistake is trying to become better machines than machines.

What if this technological revolution is actually calling us to become more deeply human?

A human being can encounter suffering and decide to relieve it. We can see injustice and imagine reform. We can encounter loneliness and create community. We can perceive beauty and create art. We can receive an idea that does not yet exist in physical form and labour until it becomes reality.

But creation raises a deeper question: What is worth creating, and why?

That question cannot be answered by capability alone.

The same is true of justice.

A machine may analyse thousands of cases, identify precedents and predict outcomes with astonishing accuracy. But justice is not merely knowing the law or possessing the facts. Justice requires us to ask what ought to be done with those facts. Intelligence can tell us what is possible. Wisdom must still ask what is right. 

And then there is love.

A machine can compose a beautiful love letter. It can imitate tenderness and produce comforting words. But love is more than language. Love forgives. Love sacrifices. Love sometimes remains when leaving would be easier. Love can make the wellbeing of another person matter deeply to us.

This brings us to perhaps the greatest human responsibility of all: the freedom to choose good when we have the power to do otherwise.

Knowledge does not guarantee goodness. Intelligence does not guarantee wisdom. Education does not guarantee character. History has repeatedly shown that brilliant minds can employ extraordinary knowledge for destructive ends. 

So perhaps the real danger is not that machines will become too intelligent.

It is that human beings may become so impressed by intelligence that we forget the importance of wisdom.

The more powerful our tools become, the more important our character becomes.

AI may therefore give humanity an unexpected gift. It may force us to rediscover qualities we neglected while pursuing knowledge, speed, productivity and achievement.

Compassion. Judgment. Courage. Mercy. Creativity. Sacrifice. Integrity. Service.

Machines may become faster than us. They may know more than us. They may outperform us in countless intellectual tasks.

Let them.

Our challenge is not to become better machines.

It is to become better human beings.

Perhaps the future will belong not simply to those who know the most, but to those who understand what knowledge is for. Not merely to those who possess power, but to those who understand what power is for. And not merely to those who are free to choose, but to those who choose what is good.

If intelligence is all we bring to the future, machines may indeed make much of what we do redundant.

But if we rediscover wisdom, love, conscience, creativity, service and the responsibility to do good, perhaps AI will not diminish humanity at all.

Perhaps it will challenge us, finally, to become what we were always meant to be:

Truly human.

WHY DID JESUS FAST?

The question invites us to pause. Scripture tells us that Jesus fasted for forty days and forty nights in the wilderness. But it gives us no stated reason. We are told what happened, not why.

We could spend a long time trying to explain this event, but that search takes us away from the deeper task at hand. It is more fruitful to turn from the historical question to the timeless one. What does fasting actually mean for us, as human beings, walking our own paths today?

Jesus was said to have warned against fasting as performance. Those who make themselves look mournful, who let others see their sacrifice, have already received their full reward in the admiration of onlookers. There is nothing left for them beyond that.

This distinction matters more than it first appears. It tells us that fasting was never primarily about the stomach. It was about where our attention is fixed. Is it fixed on what others think of us, or on something deep within?

There is a story of a Pharisee coming to Jesus, troubled that his disciples did not properly observe the Sabbath, the fasts, or the ritual washings. Jesus used the moment to shift the conversation entirely. He did not defend his disciples on technical grounds. He redefined the terms.

He said that a person can keep the Sabbath every day. He said that washing points to something beyond the body, the cleansing of the soul from within. And of fasting, he said this: the one who withdraws quietly, who sets aside base and trivial thoughts, who does not give in to his lower desires, and who humbly turns to the Almighty in prayer, that person keeps the Sabbath and has already fasted, simply by eating only what the body truly needs.

This changes what fasting is. It is not an act of denial performed on the outside. It is a discipline of the inner life. It asks us to notice what actually occupies our thoughts through the day, and to have the honesty to set aside what is unworthy of us.

The Grail Message speaks to this same truth when it says that whoever carries within himself the firm will to do good, and strives to keep his thoughts pure, has already found the way to the Almighty, and all else will be added unto him.

Notice what this does not ask of us. It does not ask for the memorising of scripture or doctrine. It does not ask for spiritual striving that leaves us exhausted. It does not require abstaining from particular foods or drinks, and it does not require withdrawing from the world. It asks for something both simpler and harder, the honest and sustained will to do good, and to keep our thoughts clean.

When we live this way, something changes in us. The body becomes sound. The mind is freed from the heaviness that comes with melancholy thinking, from that habit of turning every difficulty into a burden too large to carry. All exaggeration wears us down. Simplicity restores us.

Perhaps this is the real fast worth undertaking now. Not the fast that others can see and admire, but the quiet one. A fast from empty distraction. A fast from the noise that fills our days and crowds out reflection. A fast from resentment, from envy, from the small cruelties we allow ourselves in thought if not in word.

Let us free ourselves, then, from dogma and from every rigid form that keeps us at a distance from the Almighty. Let us set free within us the firm decision to do only what is good, in thought, in word, and in deed. This is the fast that matters. In it, we find not exhaustion but peace, and a soundness of body and soul that no outward observance could ever give us.

HOW DO I MAKE MONEY IN HARD TIMES LIKE NOW?

                                                                                       

                                       

A highly respected friend asked me this question this week, and I suspect many of us are quietly asking it too.

It is a fair question, and a timely one. So let us sit with it honestly.

Hard times do not eliminate money. They change where it flows. People become more cautious, but they do not stop spending. They simply become far more selective about what they will pay for.

So alongside how do I make money, it helps to also ask what problem can I solve. Income is usually the consequence of value delivered, not the goal chased directly.

Look closely at the difficulty around you. Inflation, uncertainty, inefficiency, business pressure, changing habits. Every one of these creates friction. And friction, for the person paying attention, creates opportunity.

In hard times, usefulness outweighs appearance. People postpone luxuries. They do not postpone anything that saves them money, makes them money, reduces risk, or makes a hard problem easier to carry. If you want a practical starting point, ask yourself honestly which of these four your skill or offer touches. That single question can sharpen almost any idea.

You may already hold the skill that someone urgently needs. Before searching for an entirely new venture, look again at what you already know how to do well. Write down three things people already come to you for, even informally. One of them is likely closer to income than you have given it credit for.

Do not wait for one big breakthrough. Several modest income streams, built with integrity, can carry you further than one dramatic idea that never arrives. Consulting, a service, a product, teaching, a small offer here and there. Resilience is often built quietly, stream by stream, not through a single dramatic leap.

Busyness is not the same as productivity. Hard times tempt us to chase every opportunity that appears. Before you say yes to the next one, ask a simple question. What does this actually cost me in effort and risk, and what does it realistically return? That one habit alone will save you from a great deal of wasted motion.

Cash flow deserves as much attention as income. A person can look profitable on paper and still struggle, simply because money is not arriving when it is needed. Know what is owed to you, know what you owe, and check the gap between them regularly. Managing that gap is as much a skill as earning itself.

Guard yourself against desperation. Hard times make people vulnerable to shortcuts, excessive borrowing, and schemes that promise too much too quickly. Whatever pressure you feel, do not let it dismantle the financial foundation you have spent years building. Slower and steady still outlasts fast and fragile.

Relationships still matter more than transactions. Trust, reputation, and the people who vouch for you quietly become some of the most valuable assets you carry in a difficult market. Nurture them even when there is nothing immediate to gain from them.

And learn to speak about what you offer. A good skill or a good product held in silence helps no one. Value that is never communicated remains value that is never realised. You do not need to be loud. You only need to be clear and consistent about what you do and who it helps.

But something needs saying clearly here, because money pressure has a way of making us feel powerless, as though our worth is now measured only by what we can no longer give.

That is not true.

There is a form of giving that has nothing to do with money or goods. It is giving of yourself. Your presence, your attentiveness, your respect for another person, freely offered. Abd-ru-shin writes that in this giving of yourself, in the consideration and respect you voluntarily extend to your neighbour, lies the love of which Jesus spoke, and lies also the help that enables another person to rise, drawing strength from what you gave.

If money were the only currency of usefulness, then anyone without it would have nothing left to offer. That was never the design. You remain useful even at the point of your own lack.

One caution belongs alongside all of this. A low level desire just to make money at all costs can slowly open the door to shortcuts that compromise who you are. Guard your character as closely as you guard your income.

When times are hard, do not merely look for where the money is. Look for where the problems are. Money tends to follow those who can solve problems!

And should we ever be hard pressed, even at the point of our greatest need, let us remember that when the need is greatest, the Almighty's help is nearest to us.

And even when money is slow to come, remain someone whose presence, kindness and contribution continue to bring value to the lives of those around you.

WHEN LIFE DOESN’T GO AS PLANNED

 

Sometimes what you call a failed plan is simply a different route to a life you could not yet see.

We all make plans. We plan our careers, businesses, marriages, finances, families and futures. Yet life has a way of disrupting even our most carefully constructed plans.

A business fails. A relationship ends. A long-awaited opportunity disappears. Money becomes tight. A career takes an unexpected turn. A child chooses a path we never imagined. And suddenly, we wonder: What happened to the life I planned?

But perhaps we need to look at life differently.

A changed plan is not necessarily a ruined life. Sometimes, it is simply an invitation to discover something we could not see from where we stood.

The wisdom embedded in the laws of Creation does not always give us what we want when we want it. Yet, if we are willing to learn, our experiences can serve something deeper: our spiritual growth and maturity.

Perhaps that difficult season is teaching you patience.

Perhaps the disappointment is preparing you for greater responsibility.

Perhaps the closed door is forcing you to discover abilities you never knew you possessed.

Perhaps the person who walked away is teaching you that your happiness cannot depend entirely on another human being.

Perhaps financial difficulty is teaching you discipline, contentment and the difference between what you want and what you truly need.

This does not mean we should become passive or stop pursuing our goals. We should plan, work hard, seek opportunities and take responsibility for our lives. But we should also recognise that we do not see the whole picture.

Sometimes, we become so attached to our plans that we mistake our preferred outcome for the only possible good outcome.

There is wisdom in knowing when to persevere and wisdom in knowing when to accept that a particular path has ended.

The real tragedy is not that life sometimes changes our plans. The tragedy is allowing disappointment to make us bitter, fearful or spiritually stagnant.

When things do not go as planned, ask a better question:

“What is this experience trying to teach me?”

That question can transform disappointment into wisdom.

Life is not merely about acquiring wealth, achieving status, finding comfort or having everything happen according to our wishes. There is a deeper purpose to our existence: to develop as human beings, to grow in wisdom, character and spiritual maturity.

So, if your life is not currently looking the way you imagined, do not conclude that everything has gone wrong.

Perhaps you are simply being led along a road you did not know existed.

Walk it with courage. Learn what it has come to teach you. Keep doing your part. And trust that even when your plans change, life can still be leading you somewhere which is of real benefit to you.

May you have the wisdom to recognise the lesson in every unexpected turn, the strength to embrace what you cannot change, and the courage to keep moving towards the person you are meant to become. And as always, I wish you well. 

YOU ARE NOT BEHIND. YOU ARE JUST TIRED.

      

Maybe you are not failing at life. Maybe you are simply tired from carrying too much for too long.

We live in a season that confuses exhaustion with failure. The moment we slow down, we panic. We assume something is wrong with our drive, our discipline, our faith. So we reach for another strategy. Another plan. Another version of hustle dressed up as purpose.

But sometimes the problem was never the plan. Sometimes the problem is that you have been running on empty and calling it commitment.

Tiredness has a way of disguising itself as failure. It whispers that you are behind, that everyone else is moving faster, building more, becoming more. It rarely announces itself honestly. It hides behind self doubt and shows up wearing the mask of inadequacy.

But look closer. Most of what feels like falling behind is actually depletion. You have been giving from a place that was never refilled. Showing up for everyone else's demands while your own reserves quietly ran dry. Carrying responsibilities that were never yours alone to carry, and calling the weight normal because you have carried it for so long.

There is no strategy that fixes exhaustion. No new goal cures depletion. You cannot outwork a body and spirit that are asking, simply, to rest.

This is not a call to abandon effort. It is a call to tell the truth about what you have already given. You have shown up on days when no one clapped. You have kept going when the results were invisible. You have carried people, projects, and prayers that others will never know the weight of.

That is not falling behind. That is endurance. And endurance deserves rest, not shame.

Rest is not the opposite of purpose. It is what makes purpose sustainable. Even the ground needs a season lying fallow before it can yield again. You are not exempt from that rhythm simply because you are human and ambitious.

So before you reach for another plan this week, ask a quieter question first. Not what should I do next, but what do I need to recover.

Maybe the breakthrough you are searching for is not ahead of you. Maybe it is behind you, in the rest you kept postponing because you thought stopping meant losing ground.

You have not lost ground. You have simply been carrying more than anyone could see.

Let us learn to set some of it down. Not because we have stopped believing in the vision, but because we finally believe we do not have to be depleted to be faithful.

May we find the courage to rest without guilt, and the grace to know that slowing down is not the end of our becoming.

THE WEIGHT YOU CANNOT SEE

There is a moment most of us have experienced but rarely examined honestly. Someone snaps at us, disappoints us, goes silent when we expected warmth, or behaves in a way that feels inconsiderate or even unkind. And within seconds, often without realising it, we have already formed a verdict. We have decided what kind of person they are.

We are remarkably quick to interpret behaviour. We are remarkably poor at understanding the burdens behind it.

Think of the irritable spouse who bites your head off over something trivial. The impatient colleague who seems impossible to please. The silent friend who has stopped returning messages. The difficult boss whose moods nobody can predict. The struggling child who has become withdrawn and difficult. The elderly parent who seems ungrateful for everything done for them. The customer service officer who speaks to you with an edge that feels personal.

In each of these encounters, our first instinct is to react to what we see. Rarely do we pause long enough to ask what we cannot see.

What we cannot see is the weight.

The irritable spouse may have received news that morning that they have not yet found the words to share. The impatient colleague may be managing a crisis at home while pretending at work that everything is fine. The silent friend may be drowning in something too heavy to speak aloud and too private to explain. The difficult boss may be carrying pressures from above that they are not permitted to pass down. The struggling child may be navigating something in their inner world that they do not yet have the language to name. The elderly parent may be quietly terrified of becoming a burden while desperately needing connection.

None of this excuses poor behaviour. Compassion is not the same as permission. We do not have to absorb cruelty or accept mistreatment simply because the other person is suffering. That is an important distinction and a mature one. We are allowed to hold boundaries and still hold compassion simultaneously.

But what compassion does require of us is the willingness to pause before we conclude. To remember that behaviour is almost always the visible symptom of an invisible struggle. That the person who is hardest to be around is often the person carrying the heaviest load and doing it in the least graceful way because grace requires reserves they may not currently have.

There is a practice worth cultivating. Before you judge, ask silently: what might this person be carrying that I cannot see? You may never know the answer. But the question itself changes something in you. It softens the verdict. It creates a small space where understanding can grow where contempt would otherwise have taken root.

Every day we move through the world brushing against people who are quietly managing things we know nothing about. Some carry grief so fresh it has not yet found a shape. Some carry disappointment that has curdled slowly over years into a hardness they did not choose. Some carry loneliness behind confident smiles and full diaries. Some carry fear behind assertive voices and decisive actions.

We may never know their stories. But we can always make one quiet choice: not to become another burden they have to carry.

The world does not merely need kinder people. It needs people who remember that behind every difficult behaviour is a human being trying to cope with something.

That pause costs nothing. But for the person on the receiving end of it, it can mean everything.