If You’re Not Embarrassed by What You Thought Five Years Ago, You’re Not Growing

The smartest thing you can do is love being proved wrong. Because that’s the only way you get smarter.

There’s a saying that hits like a slap in the face:

On the one hand, ouch.

On the other hand, there’s a deep truth to it.

I know it’s been true for me.

And I’m not talking about small embarrassments. I’m talking about things that make me cringe. Things that make me shake my head and wonder what the hell I was thinking.

I’ll give you an example. In my naive, ignorant youth, I didn’t think we needed electric chairs.

I thought we needed electric benches.

Yeah. I actually believed that. I actually said that out loud. To other people.

Sigh.

I’m glad I’ve grown out of that really stupid mindset.

But here’s the thing: I didn’t grow out of it by accident. I grew out of it by being willing to examine my beliefs, admit I was wrong, and change.

And that willingness—the willingness to unlearn what you thought you knew—is the most important skill a leader can develop.

The Parthenon Lesson: When “Saying So Doesn’t Make It True”

Recently, I had another beautiful moment of being proved wrong.

For years, I believed—and told people—that the Parthenon in Athens was built using the golden ratio. That the ancient Greeks had used this mathematical proportion to create perfect beauty.

I was wrong.

A Cambridge professor named Hannah Fry laid it out clearly:

There is no written evidence whatsoever that the ancient Greeks used the golden ratio in the design of the Parthenon. And none of the measurements actually precisely conform to golden ratio numbers.

Just drawing a Fibonacci spiral over the top of something and shouting “golden ratio” does not count as science.

Egg on my face.

But here’s what’s actually true about the Parthenon—and it’s far more impressive than the golden ratio myth:

The Parthenon has no straight lines. None.

It’s built on a base that curves away from the center in both directions. All of the pillars lean slightly inward toward the center.

Why?

Because the ancient Greeks knew that if they built it straight, it would look curved to the human eye. So they built it curved to make it look straight.

Every single segment of every column is completely unique. Custom-carved to account for the optical illusion.

And here’s the kicker: If they were capable of that level of precision—and they clearly were—they would have been perfectly capable of adhering to the golden ratio if they’d wanted to.

They just didn’t.

The real story is more fascinating, more sophisticated, and more impressive than the myth I’d been repeating.

And I only learned it because I was willing to be proved wrong.

Why Being Wrong Is a Gift

Most people hate being wrong.

It feels like failure. Like humiliation. Like a threat to their identity.

So they avoid it at all costs.

They double down on bad beliefs. They dismiss contradicting evidence. They attack the messenger instead of examining the message.

And they stay stuck.

Because you can’t learn if you can’t be wrong. You can’t grow if you can’t change your mind. You can’t improve if you can’t admit that what you thought you knew was incomplete, inaccurate, or just plain stupid.

Being wrong isn’t a failure. It’s a prerequisite for growth.

Every time you discover you were wrong about something, you’ve just gotten smarter. You’ve just upgraded your understanding. You’ve just moved closer to reality.

That’s not embarrassing. That’s progress.

The Two Kinds of Learning

Most people think learning is about acquiring new information.

But there’s a second kind of learning that’s even more important: unlearning.

• Learning is adding something new to your understanding.
• Unlearning is removing something false from your understanding.

And unlearning is harder. Much harder.

Because when you learn something new, you’re adding to your identity. You’re becoming more knowledgeable. It feels good.

But when you unlearn something, you’re subtracting from your identity. You’re admitting you were wrong. It feels threatening.

Your ego resists it. Your brain resists it. Your social circle resists it.

Because if you change your mind, what does that say about all the time you spent believing the wrong thing?

It says you were human. That’s all.

And now you’re a slightly smarter human.

Why Most People Stop Growing

Here’s the pattern:

In your twenties, you’re learning constantly. Everything is new. You’re absorbing information like a sponge. You’re open to new ideas because you don’t have many old ones to protect.

In your thirties and forties, you start to slow down. You’ve accumulated beliefs, opinions, and frameworks. You’ve built an identity around what you know. And changing any of it feels like a threat to that identity.

By your fifties and sixties, many people have stopped learning entirely. They’ve calcified. Their beliefs are set. Their opinions are fixed. They’ve stopped questioning and started defending.

And they wonder why the world seems to be passing them by.

It’s not that they can’t learn. It’s that they’ve stopped being willing to unlearn.

They’ve stopped being willing to be embarrassed by what they thought five years ago.

And without that willingness, growth stops.

What I’ve Had to Unlearn

Let me be honest about some of the things I’ve had to unlearn:

I had to unlearn that toughness means not showing emotion. Growing up in construction and martial arts, I was taught that emotions were weakness. It took years to learn that emotional intelligence is actually the highest form of strength.

I had to unlearn that there’s one right way to do things. As a foreman, I thought my way was the right way. It took teaching hapkido to students with different bodies and abilities to learn that there are many right ways.

I had to unlearn that the world is black and white. I’ve talked about this before—my journey from simple thinking to complex thinking. From binary to nuanced. From certainty to curiosity.

I had to unlearn that being right is more important than being effective. You can be right and still lose. You can be right and still alienate everyone around you. Being effective matters more than being right.

And I had to unlearn the golden ratio myth about the Parthenon. Which taught me, again, that just because something is widely repeated doesn’t make it true.

Each of these unlearnings was uncomfortable. Each one bruised my ego.

And each one made me better.

How to Stay Open to Unlearning

Here’s how you keep growing:

Step 1: Hold your beliefs loosely.

Not weakly. Loosely.

There’s a difference between having strong convictions and being rigidly attached to them.

Strong convictions with loose attachment means:

That’s not wishy-washy. That’s wise.

Step 2: Seek out information that challenges you.

Don’t just read things that confirm what you already believe. Deliberately seek out perspectives that challenge your assumptions.

Not to argue with them. To test your own thinking.

If your beliefs can’t survive contact with opposing evidence, they’re not strong beliefs. They’re fragile ones.

Step 3: Practice saying “I was wrong.”​

Three words. Incredibly powerful. Incredibly difficult.

Practice them.

Start small. Admit a small error. A minor misconception. A trivial mistake.

Then work up to the bigger ones.

The more you practice, the easier it gets. And the easier it gets, the faster you grow.

Step 4: Celebrate being proved wrong.

This is the advanced move.

Instead of feeling embarrassed when you’re proved wrong, feel grateful.

That’s the mindset of a lifelong learner. And it’s the mindset that separates leaders from everyone else.

Step 5: Check your beliefs regularly.

Set a recurring reminder. Every six months, every year—review your major beliefs.

Ask:

• Do I still believe this? Why?
• What evidence supports it?
• What evidence contradicts it?
• Have I learned anything that should change my mind?

If you haven’t changed your mind about anything in the last year, you’re probably not examining your beliefs carefully enough.

Step 6: Surround yourself with people who will challenge you.

Not yes-men. Not people who agree with everything you say.

People who will push back. Who will question your assumptions. Who will tell you when you’re wrong.

Those people are uncomfortable to be around. And they’re the most valuable people in your life.

The Parthenon Principle

Here’s what I’m calling the Parthenon Principle:

The real truth is almost always more interesting, more nuanced, and more impressive than the myth.

The golden ratio myth about the Parthenon is simple. Easy to understand. Easy to repeat.

But the real story—that the Greeks built curved structures to counteract optical illusions, with every single column segment uniquely carved—is far more fascinating.

The myth is simple. The truth is complex.

And that’s true about almost everything.

The simple story you’ve been telling yourself about your life, your beliefs, your understanding of the world—it’s probably a myth.

The real story is more complex. More nuanced. More interesting.

But you’ll never discover it if you’re not willing to let go of the myth.

Why This Matters for Leadership

A leader who can’t unlearn is a leader who can’t adapt.

A leader who can’t admit they were wrong is a leader who can’t be trusted.

A leader who can’t change their mind is a leader who will lead their team off a cliff while insisting the map is correct.

The best leaders are the ones who are constantly learning and unlearning.

Who hold their beliefs strongly but loosely. Who seek out challenges to their thinking. Who celebrate being proved wrong.

Because they know that being wrong today is the price of being right tomorrow.

The Challenge of Leadership and Learning

Here’s what I want you to do this week:

Identify one belief you hold that you’ve never seriously questioned.

Maybe it’s about your industry. Maybe it’s about relationships. Maybe it’s about how the world works. Maybe it’s about yourself.

Then question it.

Look for evidence that contradicts it. Talk to someone who disagrees with it. Read something that challenges it.

And if you discover you were wrong?

Don’t cringe. Don’t defend. Don’t deflect.

Celebrate.

Because you just got smarter. You just grew. You just became a better leader.

And five years from now, you’ll look back at today and be embarrassed by what you thought.

That’s not a failure. That’s the whole point.

What belief are you ready to question today?