I was a little uncomfortable the other evening as I drove
the narrow winding roads to a dinner party atop the Hollywood Hills. I quickly
attributed my discomfort to navigating the narrow two lane blacktop as Italian
sports cars and German SUV’s hurdled down the mountain toward me. Maybe I
should have dug deeper and paid more attention to why I was really feeling that
way.

 I had been invited to the home of Keith
Ferrazzi

If you don’t know already, Keith is the author of
the best seller “Never Eat Alone.” http://nevereatalone.typepad.com/
He was throwing a dinner party for about
a dozen guests who were extremely accomplished in a variety of fields as
diverse as hi-tech, economics, art direction and fashion. The big question bubbling
up in my mind was, “Why was I invited?” This feeling was quickly swallowed down
with the first sips of chilled, expensive wine.

 As we sat down for dinner, I noticed little square cards at
each of our place settings. I turned mine over and read, “If you could go
anywhere in history where would you like to go?” I realized that everyone would
be asked questions during the evening and that’s when my discomfort came back. I
felt like a longshoreman was wrapping his huge hands around my stomach and
squeezing with glee. Soon enough Keith was asking people around the table to
answer the question on their cards.  I
focused on what I would say, thought about ancient Greece, how cool it would be to
hang with Socrates and hear him say, “I know I don’t know anything and even
that I don’t know.” Socrates was my pal because that is exactly how I felt and
I couldn’t wait to give my answer.

 Keith looked at me as if he knew what I was thinking and
said, “I want Bob to go last and I am going to give him another question.” My
mind raced, “Why the hell am I going last?” and “Is Keith playing with me?” I
felt like a tiny grey mouse sitting at a cat convention. Now those dreaded
words: “Bob, what is it that hurts you?” Everyone turned and looked as I
mumbled something about what an old acting teacher had told me about fear…

Soon after dinner we adjourned to the patio. I walked to the
deck, which jutted out over a cliff, and gave the guests a god’s eye view of a
dazzling city. I wanted to go home. As I thanked my host, Keith turned to me and
said I had copped out and not told the truth.  He was right.

What was the truth? So obvious now and so obscured earlier:
I felt inferior to everyone there and especially to Keith. I could not admit it and that had locked me
away as sure as jail time in Sing Sing. However, in my case I was my own jail
cell and jailer.  I had forgotten that I
held the keys to my freedom and on those keys were inscribed “The truth shall
set you free.”