Taking the high road isn’t easy, but it’s worth it

It’s old advice your grandmother would tell: “Take the high road.” 

The idiom originated from the 1841 Scottish folk song, “The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond,” where it initially referred to two literal paths.

The phrase has evolved to mean choosing the moral, ethical and right path in life, even if it is more challenging. 

It is often contrasted with the “low road” (or “low road” to the same destination), which represents a path of vengeance, negativity or unethical behavior. 

The phrase came into national prominence during the 1948 presidential campaign. Thomas E. Dewey selected “the high road.”

By doing so, he let American voters draw their own conclusions about what road President Harry Truman was trudging down.

Admittedly, it didn’t work out for Dewey

We hear the phrase when we’re angry.

We remind ourselves each time we’ve been wronged.

It’s easy to be snarky and vengeful, and— honestly— most times it just feels better.  

The impulse is to send that spiteful text or hit “post” on a clever reply. 

In those moments, the high road feels like the scenic route nobody wants to take. It can be steep, lonely and uphill both ways.

It’s true. The high road is hard because it’s rare. 

And it’s rare because it requires something that’s in short supply these days — humility, restraint and a long view of what really matters.

In the digital age, we’ve become conditioned for immediacy and outrage. 

We want the last word, the mic drop— the viral comeback. 

Outrage, after all, does travel faster than grace. 

Yet when we pause — really pause — before reacting, we often find that what we wanted to say in the heat of the moment isn’t what we needed to say at all. 

Taking the high road doesn’t mean rolling over or pretending everything’s fine. It means deciding that your peace of mind is more valuable than being right in public.

An old preacher once told me, “How you respond when you’re mistreated says more about you than how you behave when everything’s going your way.” 

Sounds like self-help, personal guru kind of talk, right? Maybe, but the older I get, the more I see the wisdom in these words.

Think about the last time someone cut you off in traffic, or snapped at you at work, or spread something unkind behind your back, or questioned your integrity in public.  

In seems natural to want to respond in kind — to match pettiness with pettiness.

It just seems fair and feels justified. 

But taking the high road requires different— not silence, but perspective.

Taking the high road isn’t about not caring. It’s about caring more— caring deeply about your integrity, the example you set and your own sense of peace. 

There’s also a quiet power in refusing to let bitterness take root. 

Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and hoping not to get sick. 

Taking the high road cleanses that poison from your system. It lets you move on not because the other person deserves forgiveness, but because you deserve peace.

We think of strength as being loud— the booming voice, the firm stance, the final word. 

But some of the strongest people I’ve ever known are the ones who walk away without making a scene. 

They keep their dignity intact, and often, they gain respect not for what they said, but for what they didn’t say.

Thomas Jefferson said it best, “Nothing gives one person so much advantage over another as to remain always cool and unruffled under all circumstances.”

I’ll be the first to admit, this is hard. It takes work. I’m not there yet, but I am still doing the work.

Of course, the high road isn’t without risk. Sometimes people mistake it for weakness. 

They think you didn’t respond because you couldn’t. 

I say, let them think it. The high road doesn’t need applause. It requires conviction. You don’t take it for show. 

You take it because you know who you are. No argument, insult or slight is worth losing that.

In a world that celebrates the clapback and rewards outrage, choosing grace is almost an act of rebellion. Outrage breeds outrage and civility is lost. 

Restraint breeds civility. It builds character, earns quiet respect and makes the world — at least our little corner of it — a bit better place.

So, the next time you’re tempted to fire back, take a break. 

Count to ten. Take a breath. Then try the high road. You might find the view from up there isn’t just clearer,  it’s freer.