One time I was talking with Aunty Pua on the phone, or in the car and she gave me one of the most profound pieces of wisdom that has changed my life.
I don’t even remember exactly what we were talking about, or whom. But I remember that there was a difficult situation where somebody was behaving in an unhelpful way. We were discussing what to do in response to this person‘s behavior and apparent lack of self-awareness.
Reflecting on the situation, Aunty Pua told me: “Don’t blow their cover story. It might be all they have left.”
That wisdom hit me squarely in the gut. It has changed how interact with people ever since, and I think about it often. If, in frustration or for the sake of progress, I had blown open the truth, I risked causing damage. This doesn’t mean to be avoidant, or to excuse bad behavior, but in argument or conflict, perhaps don’t go for the jugular.
Often in conflict or in work or community we want to help things to be right. We want things to go well, we want to help folks be their best and achieve their best and do what we can, together.
We want to get to the bottom of things, we want to tell the truth, we want to move forward. Aunty says to tell the whole story, and I believe in that. As in her Dalai Lama principle, It’s transformative to recognize when we are perhaps living in a story of deficit, or if toxic positivity is preventing us from addressing deep seated issues. But think about how the Dalai Lama invited the whole story—not by confronting the woman who was telling her tale of woe and dismissing or accusing her of being a victim, but by inviting her to tell the story of at least one child she had saved. In that way, he protected her dignity, but also invited something else to come forward. He didn’t blow her cover.
It reminds me of the exercise called Johari’s Window. I’ve been in groups or this has been used with youth. I noticed that if they don’t have the internal scaffolding, blowing their cover and telling the truth about them as yousee it risks damage if they are not ready.
The narratives that make up our identities are so powerful. And if someone needs to meaningfully change their narrative, they’re the only ones who can really do that.
To exercise restraint gives careful dignity and respect to their paradigm, their story, and their delicate unfolding as a human being.
Now when I go into situations with others I think about that. I don’t need to be right. “Getting to the bottom of things“ might not necessarily be what is needed. I have to slow down. I tend to move quickly and I’m thinking five steps ahead. But I have to wait, let a situation breathe, let us all catch up to each other.
I find myself these days pausing more in interpersonal interactions, and also exercising curiosity. This isn’t only about who people are, but how they are and how they work. How they process and what they need in order to feel safe in a conversation or interaction or group to bring their best selves.
It can be challenging for someone like me, an ideator, to not to charge forward with choke ideas. However, I find the posture of curiosity, listening, and exchange more fulfilling and rewarding. In interpersonal interactions, this also liberates me from needing to know or judge. I can just experience and be in the moment, and appreciate people for who they are. And I love that, love witnessing folks grow in their own space and time and being.
Can you think of a time where you blew someone’s cover, or when your cover was blown? How did you feel, how did you recover? Have you ever thought about this?
In some ways, we may know this intrinsically. But the way Aunty said it, so reflective and thoughtful and quiet, really hit home that day.
As 2025 slides into 2026, sending you aloha and all the cover you need to pass through into a new year and your own unique unfolding. Stay healthy out there! There’s so much stuff going around. ♥️
Mahalo,
Dawn
Photo taken 12/26/25 in Hau’ula.