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I don’t care what you think unless it is about me.

Kurt Cobain

Here we are, at the end of our long journey together. It’s been… fun? Educational? Hopefully at least thought provoking? Either way, I want to thank those of you who have stuck it out along the way. The goal of this process was to bring a bit of introspection into each of our lives an help understand how we can best tailor ourselves to become the change that the world needs.

But, of course, there are dangers there as well. Kind of a running theme, no?

In the second bit of prime irony from these articles, this seventh and final entry will be focused on Pride and just so happens to fall on the last weekend of our newly vaunted monthly celebration. I didn’t plan it out that way, but I’ll take the assist where I can.

I’ve alluded to Pride in practically every post before this. There’s a simple reason for that. Pride, dubbed the Queen of all sin by St. Gregory the Great, is the progenitor of sin. In order to recognize that, we first have to understand what is meant by Pride.

People often argue that it can’t be all that bad – after all, they take pride in their children when they succeed, or take pride in their community when it pulls together to support a cause. And, yes, those things are a form of pride. Pride, the progenitor, is better understood as narcissism. An inordinate focus on self and elevating oneself above all else. How, then, do these examples fall under that blanket?

Because the pride we take in the growth of our children or the banding together of the community or even something as detached as our city’s national teams winning championships due to some connection we feel to those things. We cast ourselves into them, feel we are reflected in them in some way. We look at our children succeed and think, “I did that,” or our community outreach and think, “I’m a part of that,” or even the team’s lifting of the trophy and thing, “I supported that.”

Now, don’t take this to mean those things are innately bad. Pride is a perfect example of “All things in moderation.” Appreciating our efforts is valid, so long as we don’t allow it to consume us. Where Pride begins its insidious nature is when it starts to take that appreciation away from others.

I can be proud of my children, but I must also recognize their accomplishments aren’t my doing. I played a part, of course, but so did their mother, their grandparents, their school, their friends and teachers and church. And, importantly, themselves. Each of those things deserves its own credit. I’m just a part of their story.

That last line, there. That’s the big one. Pride exposes its true nature when you start to treat the world as a part of your story, instead of the other way around. When everyone else must fit into your casting. How does this trickle down so as to make it the Queen of all sin? Well, let’s look.

The siblings Gluttony, Lust, and Avarice come about when one believes their own comfort and desires trump those of others. Sloth falls into that same bracket. Wrath appears when people do not fit into the parts of our story where we wish them to fill. Envy, from the idea that what another has would be better served as yours instead. When I am the focus of my world, the humanity of everyone else begins to fade. Everything becomes about me. Again I find myself thinking back to my article on the Marquis de Sade, something I’ve both referenced and considered a lot since creating it. He really was the personification of this ideal, the embodiment of Pride, and his ideals have slowly begun to permeate society.

It’s been a part of this process to look inward and expose parts of myself that are damaged by these sins. With Pride, I find that difficult. Not because I don’t have it – if only I was so clean – but because it’s everywhere. It’s in how I spend my time. It’s in my writing of these articles, hoping that I’ve found a way to influence someone to become a better version of themselves. For them, sure, but I can’t deny the ego boost that would likely come from it. That shouldn’t be what it’s about, and I like to think it isn’t, but I can still feel that pull. Worshipping oneself is just so damn easy. It’s the only viewpoint we have, after all. Talk about an unreliable narrator problem.

The only way to combat Pride is with Humility. I’ve already covered this above, but just to drive home the point, if we offer up credit to others for things in which we play a part, it becomes that much more difficult to believe the world revolves around us. And it doesn’t. I like to think that we all know this, even if we’ve buried that idea somewhere deep in our psyche. If we approach everything in our lives with an eye on Humility, well, that would essentially build the Christian utopia. You might recall my thoughts on utopias, so you’ll know I don’t expect anything like this to happen, ever, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t work towards it.

I can’t help but feel I’m falling short in this particular article. There’s so much driven by Pride, and its pull is so pernicious, I could harp on its influence forever. But I think, perhaps, this post has gone on long enough. So instead, I’ll thank you all again. I hope any of this has been a help, and I hope the next time you feel the draw to any of the Seven, you’ll take a moment to step away, take a breath, and consider that the world is filled with stories. Each one is as important as the next, and only one of them is yours. My hope is that yours is a tale that brightens each page in every story in which it appears.

Be good to one another, friends. These days, we sure need it.