It is a rare privilege, I think, to be privy to the thinking of people, great or small, while they are wrestling with their conscience.
This act is most often intensely private, but even a brief glimpse into the hearts of others can bring enlightenment to us. And it can also make us laugh out loud.
New York Times columnist David Brooks — often called the only conservative liberals like — describes in an essay for the newspaper his search for "the generosity of spirit or that depth of character" that he has found in people he has met who seem to be "deeply good."
Mr. Brooks can be so cerebral as to seem pompous, but this essay — it was the newspaper's "most emailed" article when it appeared — is nakedly honest. He talks of working harder to save his own soul.
And at the other end of whatever continuum we are on here, Anne Lamott, who famously writes with sardonic wit about the messiness of her own life, posted on Facebook, on the eve of turning 61, what she had learned so far. And so far, her essay has more than 65,000 "Likes" and more than 70,000 "Shares."
She writes, "Everyone is screwed up, broken, clingy, and scared, even the people who seem to have it more or less together. They are much more like you than you would believe. So try not to compare your insides to their outsides."
You almost want to get Ms. Lamott and Mr. Brooks together for coffee. Or lock them in the same room for three days so they can sort things out. But each shares thoughts worth considering.
Mr. Brooks has achieved great success in his career, but he says the virtues that he brings to the marketplace are "resume virtues," and they have nothing to do with "eulogy virtues," the qualities people talk about at your funeral.
If you live only for achievement and the accumulation of material goods, "years pass and the deepest parts of you go unexplored and unstructured."
Ms. Lamott tells us that no matter what anybody else says, you never get over the deaths of those you love because you are not supposed to. She also says that, as hard as it is for some of us to understand, God loves Dick Cheney as much as he loves our grandchildren.
Mr. Brooks writes about the "forgiving curve" on which we grade ourselves. "You figure as long as you are not obviously hurting anybody and people seem to like you, you must be O.K."
But the people he admires most are not simply those who do no harm. They are really and truly good and it took a lot of work for them to get that way. And he creates what he calls a "moral bucket list," spiritual tasks that will take us outside of ourselves.
Ms. Lamott's No. 1 truth is that life is a beautiful gift, but is also impossible for those who are born sensitive. "It is so hard and weird that we wonder if we are being punked."
Mr. Brooks describes a "humility shift," in which we stop listening to the parents and teachers who tell us how great we are and be honest with ourselves about our shortcomings. Then we battle back against those weaknesses. He uses anecdotes from famous people to describe those battles and the self-awareness they produce.
Ms. Lamott tells us that almost everything will work again if we unplug it for a few minutes, "including you."
Families are "hard, hard, hard," and that you will feel homicidal or suicidal at almost every family gathering. But, she councils, "Earth is Forgiveness School. You might as well start at the dinner table. That way, you can do this work in comfortable pants."
If these two thinkers intersect, it may be at the place where Mr. Brooks describes "the stumbler."
The stumbler scuffs through life, "with an outstretched arm, ready to receive and offer assistance. The stumbler doesn't build her life by being better than others, but by being better than she used to be.
"There is joy in mutual stumbling," he tells us.
Anne Lamott quotes Ram Das, "We're just all walking each other home."
Susan Reimer's column appears on Mondays and Thursdays. She can be reached at sreimer@baltsun.com and @Susan Reimer on Twitter.com.