Trust me!
February 13, 2011
What we lack in morality we more than make up for in armaments. Of whom do you think when you read this? Figures from the past or present-day hooligans – it makes no difference. He who wins gets to write ‘his-story’.
Might is right versus right is might. No King Arthurs in plain view today.
This notion is by no means limited to world conflict. There are many analogous inequities at play. The rich get richer. Too big to fail. Foxes in charge of the henhouse. Money buys justice. The Golden Rule (as to say), ‘he who has the gold makes the rules’. Here’s another good one: “Trust me.” More on that shortly.
It’s very easy to sit in judgement. In fact, it’s too easy. Judgement (to steal a line) is the luxury of those sitting on the sidelines. I’ve too many times judged others, both prematurely and harshly. In like fashion, such judgement has also come my way. Perhaps the best defence, on both fronts, is to restrict one’s judgement to that of the self. Only as my own judge can I hope to guard myself against the judgement of others. So guided, perhaps I will also be less likely to point fingers at others. Nice theory, anyway.
My point is that we all compensate for our weaknesses, shining a light on favoured attributes and leaving skeletons hiding in the shadows. This is a natural inclination, perfectly understandable, and for the most part, perfectly acceptable. A survey once revealed that 98% of teenage boys masturbate and that the other 2% are liars. My point is that we neither need, nor should we want, to know any and all shadowy intricacies of each other’s lives. This is fine when concerning matters of peripheral importance, but not when it touches purpose. In matters of purpose, we ought first to study our own shadows, and we ought to judge whether or not these shadows exist in contradiction to our purpose. Such self-scrutiny bears heavily on whether or not we should be trusted by others, or if we should even trust ourselves.
I come to this topic of purpose in consideration of grahamanalytics.
My word is my craft and therein lies a great conundrum. Our words are supposed to be our bonds, aren’t they? But crafty bonds cannot be trusted. In fact, true bonds cannot be crafted. They must simply be, with no craftiness attached. In any other form, we have only a lie, a back door escape hatch. Perhaps no more or less than a half-truth, but a half-truth is still a whole lie, isn’t it? Have I ever lied to you that you know about? What do you mean, you’re ‘sort of’ pregnant?
I like words. I like words a lot. I enjoy the craft of piecing words together. The flow, the rhythm, the sounds of words. These constructs, and the stories they can tell really turn my crank. Everybody likes a good story, and it’s a lot of fun to tell a good story. Here’s the thing, though. Some stories are compelling, in and of themselves. Others are compelling only by virtue of how they are told. This is an important distinction to make. In the first case, the storyteller is an observer, merely articulating what he or she sees. In the second case, there may be more window dressing than actual story. This is the crux of the matter. You must ask yourself as you read my stories, “how much of this is real and how much is just window dressing?”
Moreover, when the observer of a story becomes a participant in the story (e.g.: as a shareholder), you must question his/her purpose at every turn.
As a reader of this and other websites, you must first ask and answer the question, “what is the writer’s purpose here?” Above all else, this is a matter of trust. If in this you conclude that I am writing only to support my own vested interest, you are best served elsewhere. As a discerning reader, you must know my purpose. You must seek the truth in this matter. You must first decide whether or not I can be trusted. To fail in this is to expose yourself to great risk. My stated purpose is to inform and empower. Is this real or just window dressing? My purpose is to engage and entertain. My purpose is to mobilize, to shake you from the inertia of your recliner rocker. Ask and answer for yourself. Can I be trusted in what I say is my purpose?
This leads me cleanly around the barn to my originating mantra. Take charge of your own investments. If you want something to be done, there’s no better way than to do it for yourself.
Reading this website does not qualify as due diligence. This website is merely the prick of a pin to push readers from a zone of comfort into a space of uncertainty. It’s a rallying cry.
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Turn off the TV.
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Turn on Google.
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Pick up a book.
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Turn off the TV.
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Learn a new thing or two.
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Equip yourself for improved investing.
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Did I say? Turn off the TV.
Nobody… but nobody can or will do it for you. It’s all on you. For all but the severely handicapped, financial advice is a fraud. Think about this for a moment. In most cases, if financial advisors really knew what they were talking about, do you think they’d be doing it for you or me? Not a chance. You’re not too stupid to do it for yourself. Don’t buy that line. That’s just a sales pitch at work. If I had a nickel for every time someone said to me, “I can’t do what you do…” Well, I’d have a large nickel collection, and a fraudulent one at that.
In response to yesterday’s piece on Southern Arc, a reader sent an email to me this morning. The sum total of the message was as follows: “I trust you. Why?” Good question, and the genesis of today’s missive.
I had to think about this question a bit, taking care to avoid the flippant answers that quickly come to mind. My end reaction is that I’m flattered and pleased that you trust me. At the same time, my overriding encouragement is to place trust in yourself first and foremost. If you trust me, please make that only one of many trusted sources.
Trust, in itself, is comprised of two essences. First, do I trust in your integrity? Second, do I trust in your understanding? Without a ‘yes’ answer to both of these questions, there’s no basis for any trust at all. As for the first, trust in integrity is, for some people, a quick read of first impressions, for others, the cumulative effect of many exposures. Why should you trust my integrity? That’s not a question I can answer. The moment I say, “Trust me” your natural reaction should be to do the opposite. Should you trust my understanding? Well, that’s where the cumulative effect kicks in. I can tell you with all sincerity that the more I understand, the more I realize that I don’t understand. This process of due diligence is a journey of discovery for me, too, so please scan the horizon broadly for sources of insight and understanding. I know very little, indeed. Trust me (lol).
Sincerely,
Kevin Graham
P.S.: The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that, you’ve got it made. Jean Giraudoux