I recently saw a post titled:
“10 Steps to Earn Respect.”
It’s not wrong.
But it made me pause.
What happens to a society that must be taught how to earn respect?
What happens when that idea becomes curriculum?
When respect is no longer something we extend, but something we withhold until convinced?
Imagine this in a classroom:
- Show confidence.
- Set boundaries.
- Don’t let others walk over you.
- Speak with authority.
- Look people in the eye.
A subtle but profound shift:
- From giving respect… to demanding it.
- From honoring dignity… to negotiating it.
- From presence… to performance.
A Word That Changed Its Nature
Interestingly, the word respect originally meant something quite different.
From the Latin respicere—“to look back at” or “to regard”—it was about attentiveness, consideration, and recognition of the other’s humanity.
Over time—particularly in the Enlightenment era and through the rise of individualism—respect evolved. It became earned, not assumed.
Tied to performance.
Measured by success.
Withheld until proven.
In today’s culture, admiration often takes the place of regard.
We speak of respect as if it’s a trophy—something we win by showing enough confidence, toughness, or authority.
But what if that change cost us something essential?
What If They’re Already Learning from Us?
We worry that people don’t know how to earn respect.
But maybe the real concern is that they’ve already learned too well from us how to withhold it.
What if our children, our peers, our teams are absorbing every moment we roll our eyes, talk over others, interrupt, dismiss, or disengage?
What if respect is less a set of rules, and more a climate we either create… or poison?
From Seat to Soul
Growing up, it was ingrained in me:
Give up your seat for an elder.
Anywhere. Anytime.
It wasn’t about manners—it was about respect.
Because we were choosing someone else’s comfort over our own.
And that act of care, we were taught, was the proof of respect.
So naturally, years later, I told my own kids the same thing:
“Show respect to elders. Give them your seat.”
But they were confused.
“Why, if there’s another seat a few steps away? Why is that respect?”
Their resistance didn’t come from defiance—it came from honest observation.
And that question became a spark.
It helped me see that I had been passing on a gesture without giving them the meaning.
And that maybe, respect isn’t about specific actions—it’s about the intention behind them.
Now, instead of telling them to “show respect,”
I remind them that they are respecting someone when they show they care.
In action. Not just in thoughts.
Not just in prayers.
But in presence.
Returning to the Root of Respect
In Living With A Lifetime, there’s a quiet section titled Living With Respect.
It doesn’t list steps.
It reminds us of the sacred:
“Respect is not earned—it is remembered. It is the original agreement we have with one another’s humanity.”
It is not a transaction.
It is a recognition.
Of life.
Of soul.
Of quiet worth.
To live with respect is not to climb a ladder—it is to return to ground.
To the soil where every human being begins equal: vulnerable, longing to belong, worthy before words.
The Quiet Practice
So maybe the question isn’t: How do I earn respect?
But rather:
- How am I living in a way that honors the presence of others?
- Am I paying attention?
- Do I recognize worth before it speaks?
- Do I respect life—not just the lives I admire, but the lives I ignore?
Because before we coach it, command it, or codify it—
We must remember it.
Respect, in its truest form, isn’t just a spiritual act—it’s also a simple one.
Not a badge we collect.
A posture we hold.
This echoes what’s explored in the Returning arc—the quiet shift from proving to embodying.