Kindness

Kindness is complicated. What is it that makes being kind different from being nice, compassionate, thoughtful, or benevolent? Kindness seems to be all of these qualities and yet something more. But what exactly are those extra ingredients?

I’ve been reflecting on this for several weeks and perhaps I have a sense of what it might be. Authentic kindness has several dimensions, each slightly different, but together they make up what it means to be truly kind.

The first aspect is whether kindness is conditional or unconditional. “I’ll be kind if you do/are …” This type of kindness carries an expectation, as though it is almost a barter or exchange. We offer help when there is some advantage to us but hold back when there is not. True kindness, however, does not measure or calculate—it is given freely.

The second dimension concerns words and actions. We may be kind in our deeds but careless in our speech. Or we may offer warm praise yet fail to follow through in action. People notice whether there is consistency in our overall behaviour before they describe us as kind.

A third variable is whether the kindness is judgemental or non-judgemental.   Is our kind action influenced by a prior innocent or unconscious value judgemental as to whether the recipient of our benevolence meets our value expectations.

Wow, these first four parameters are challenging, but that is why authentic and complete kindness is so challenging.  But there is even more!!

The fourth element is whether kindness is deliberate or automatic. It is good to be thoughtful and intentional, but the challenge is to let kindness become our natural or default state—a reflex rather than an effort.

Another aspect is whether our kindness is local or expansive. Are we thoughtful only to those we know, or do we extend our care to strangers? Reaching beyond our familiar circles can feel risky, but it is where kindness often has the greatest impact.

Finally, there is the question of whether kindness is public or private. Sometimes our caring actions are on display; at other times, they remain unseen or even anonymous. The less performance and the more spontaneity there is, the more authentic the kindness tends to be.

Being kind in all these ways is challenging, and few of us manage it perfectly. Yet that does not mean we should stop trying. Each attempt of being kind strengthens our kindness muscle. Random acts of kindness may puzzle those used to a conditional world, but precisely because of that, they can inspire others to be more generous too.

PS: Many of these criteria could be used as metrics, or as a framework, to evaluate many of our actions and consider whether they arise from the highest and most noble of emotions. But do accept your flawed human nature, and don’t be too hard on yourself.

Let’s Cross That Bridge When We Get to It*

Our human awareness and conditions have changed subtly in the last few centuries. For millennia our focus on the future was mostly the next few days, or at best the coming seasons. To speculate about tasks or problems beyond the next year was rare.

Today we live in what is called a delayed-return environment, where much of our anxiety and hopes are about real or imagined problems that may take weeks, months, or years to appear—or may never occur at all. Our ancestors worried about their next meal or the chance of a wild animal nearby. Today we get caught up in loops of worrying and endless speculation about events far in the future. The dangers of our forefathers are not our agenda anymore.

Our measures of uncertainty, control, and risk are no longer about the immediate future but about distant times. We are so blessed but still manage to get more anxious and agitated than our caveperson ancestors. With so little real danger we manufacture misfortunes that are only remote possibilities, delayed for months or years before they may or may not happen.

The Stoic emperor Marcus Aurelius wrote in his Meditations:
Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present.

Restated, we imagine challenges far ahead and wonder if we will prevail. But the way we manage today is the same way we will manage tomorrow. If our tools of reason work today, they will work later. If they are weak now, the answer is not to fear tomorrow but to improve our coping abilities today.

Often we waste energy worrying about the weather for next year’s holiday or the value of retirement funds. We fight tomorrow’s battles today, and we lose awareness by not being present in the moment. We try to control and manipulate the future now. Yet most of these imagined events are outside our control, dependent on many other happenings, and their chance of ever occurring is remote.

If we can manage our present “bridge crossings,” then future bridges will likely be handled too. Improving how we meet today’s circumstances is the best training for later concerns. What are you learning now from your current successes and misfortunes? These are the lessons and skills that will help you through delayed-return environments months and years away. When those future bridges come, you will probably have the strength to cross them.  Rather than becoming anxious about tomorrow’s bridges, build beautiful resilient and strong bridges today and enjoy the views as you cross.

There will always be bridges to cross in the future. But we also cross bridges today. Better to cross today’s bridges today and leave tomorrow’s bridges for tomorrow.

*:  Inspired by "Meditations for Mortals" by Oliver Burkeman

Values, Purpose and Wellness

Being well and happy are powerful aspirations for a proper life, something we all likely strive for. But is being well and happy even possible? What does it mean to be joyful and well? Does success cause happiness, or is it the other way around? Is there a catalyst to make this blissful state of being more attainable?

This mystery has puzzled me for years, and I am going to venture a way forward. I propose that the porthole to a joyful life is through one’s values. I have noticed that when I am doing things that perfectly or closely align to my values, those internal metrics that I prize, then I am in a state of happiness and wellness. I just feel right. I am where I want to be, and there is energy in my being. I feel valuable, I know I am not lost.

When what I am doing has limited connection to my values, or I am just going through the motions of existence, then wellness is not on my emotional map. I feel somewhat hollow and empty. Life is disconnected from those core values that make me tick, and my spirit is deflated.

So, what are your core values—those ideas and principles that most give you purpose and fulfilment? When times are difficult, where internally do you look for meaning and purpose? Unfortunately, identifying these core values seems to be something one does not do until later in life. Is it a surprise that for most people it is not until their fifties that they become values-focused? And with this awareness, wellness generally improves.

Values are not the same as goals. A goal is a concrete, finite thing that you can work towards. Once you achieve it, that is the end point. Then you have to look for the next goal. A goal might be passing an exam, ticking everything off your to-do list, or running a personal best. Values are not a set of actions that can be completed. Values are a set of ideas about how you want to live your life, the kind of person you want to be, and the principles you want to stand for.*

If life is a single lifelong journey, then values are the guardrails that guide you along that pathway. Without values, it is unlikely that wellness can occur, as you have only an absolute location on your life journey as measured in days and years, but no sense of whether where you are is where you want—or ought—to be. You are lost, and that sense severely limits happiness and wellness. Values give you a foundation for your attitude, guidelines for the choices you make, and they match your actions with your true you.

When we don’t have clarity on our values, we can set goals based on what we think we should be doing, others’ expectations, or a guess that once we achieve that goal, we will finally be enough—we can finally relax and be happy with who we are. One major flaw with this is that it puts rigid parameters around the conditions in which you can be content and happy. It also places life satisfaction and happiness all in the future.*

Once you have your core values selected and prioritized, your life purpose becomes clearer, and you are well on your way to wellness.

*:         Why Has Nobody Told Me This Before? by Julie Smith

Below is a list of values that Julie Smith provides.  Are these your values?  Which five or six summary you?

Accepting        Adventurous    Ambitious        Bravery           Caring Compassionate     Connection      Creativity       Curiosity         Daring     Dependable   Determination              Enthusiasm            Fairness           Faith     Flexibility        Gratitude         Honesty         Independence  Kindness            Loving         Loyalty      Open-mindedness        Patience           Present        Professionalism       Reliable        Respectful       Self-aware       Sincerity          Spirituality       Strength            Sustainability   Trustworthy     Understanding

When and Where are You?

Research shows our thoughts are not equally divided between past, present, and future. Most of the time, we are in the present moment (about 65–70%), while 15–20% of our thoughts project into the future and 10–20% focus on the past. Yet when our minds wander—which they do nearly half the time—we lean strongly into the future, planning or imagining what’s ahead. *

If we think of time as a continuum, the best place to rest is the present moment. But how do we make this work in daily life?

Let’s start with the past. How often do you catch yourself ruminating about old regrets? Many of us go round and round, replaying what was. But the past cannot be changed. The value of the past lies in what it can teach us. Our history offers lessons, a platform to build on. The key question is: what useful patterns or mistakes can we learn from? If we don’t harvest those lessons, we’re likely to repeat or miss them in the future.

Now consider the future. When you think about tomorrow, do you feel anxiety and worry—or promise and excitement? The way you frame the future has a powerful effect on how it unfolds. From the past, we can take wisdom and use it to plan and imagine constructively. Language shapes this process. If you label what’s ahead as “problems” and “challenges,” you meet them as such. But if you reframe them as “opportunities” and “possibilities,” your mindset changes. Ask yourself: are your dreams set high enough to pull you forward, yet still within reach?

And then there is the present—the only place where life actually happens. But is your NOW is clouded by yesterday’s regrets or tomorrow’s fears? Research suggests a large share (80%) of our thoughts are negative and repetitive (95%), leaving us stuck in cycles instead of free in the moment. No wonder we don’t always feel at our best.

So where is the better “NOW” place? It’s found in presence—those times when thought quiets, time dissolves, and you slip into flow. When was the last time you felt so absorbed that you lost track of time? Flow happens when we engage in tasks that challenge us just enough, calling on our best skills. Here we are fully doing and fully being at the same time.

Being present means letting go of past and future, even briefly, and giving undivided attention to what is here. Flow does not have to be left to chance. You can deliberately create these moments—and in them, life feels richest.

*:         Beaty, R. E., Seli, P., & Schacter, D. L. (2019). Thinking about the past and future in daily life: An experience sampling study of individual differences in mental time travel. Psychological Research, 83(4), 805–816

Distancing

Do you remember the constant reminders during Covid to socially distance by staying at least two metres apart? That is not what I mean now—though the idea is somewhat similar. Psychological distancing is about creating space between your emotions and how you handle them.

Let’s say you are angry. You think, “I am angry.” All the emotional baggage of that anger comes along for the ride. Outwardly you might show impatience or rudeness. Inwardly you carry sadness or a drop in wellness. But there is another way of dealing with being angry.

It is called distancing—where you deliberately put space between an emotion and your reaction to it. Rather than saying, “I am angry”, try, “I am experiencing anger.” Or better still, use your own name: “Johan is experiencing anger.” That anger feels one step away. It is depersonalised. You can observe yourself more objectively, without getting fully caught up in the feeling.

Distancing works with negative emotions—anxiety, frustration, sadness—and positive ones—love, joy, confidence. The point is that feelings can be helpful or harmful. By stepping back, you can learn from them and shape a response you prefer.

You want more joy? By distancing from that joy, you can study it and see how to invite more of it into your life. You feel anxious? By watching yourself from the outside, you might discover what would ease that anxiety. Distancing helps you identify what is causing the anxiety (or joy) and decide how to manage that underlying tension (or bounty).

Wellness is not automatic. It needs attention and deliberate exercises. This is one of them. Next time you are in a trying—or wonderful—moment, experiment. Say, “Johan is experiencing anger… sadness… joy… peace” and see what happens.

It is simple. You are not the emotion. You are the person experiencing it. That little bit of space can change everything.

* For further insights you might want to read From a distance: Implications of spontaneous self-distancing for adaptive self-reflection. Ayduk, Ö., & Kross, E. (2010). Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 98(5), 809–829.

Values or Value?

Maybe I’ve just been around too long—or maybe I’m a grumbling oldster—but something important has changed in society, especially around wellness. After over forty years teaching in universities, I’ve noticed a subtle rewiring in learners. They’re more ambitious, but also somehow hollowerand less interesting.

Years ago, money mattered—but so did other things. Now, money—or the lack of it—seems to overwhelm everything, from personal conversations to national headlines. The business section used to be just one part of the news. Sports, local events, and culture felt more central. Now it’s all GDP, taxes, budgets, interest rates.

Mark Carney captured this shift well in his 2021 book Values: How to Fix Our Politics, Economics and Values. He writes:

“Values and value are related but distinct… Values represent the principles or standards of behavior… Value is the regard that something is held to deserve – the importance, worth or usefulness of something. Both are judgements. Increasingly, the value of something… is equated with its monetary value… The logic of buying and selling… increasingly governs the whole of life—from healthcare to education, public safety, and the environment.”

This macro shift—from values to value—captures the core change I’ve been noticing. Values are about relationships, wellness, ethics, and a sense of fairness. They help define what feels right. Value, on the other hand, is highly transactional—what’s in it for me? Will I be better off? Can I make a profit or will I prosper? It’s about monetizing almost everything: what’s this worth, can I gain financially from it?

Where values measure emotional merit, value asks how much. When values played a bigger role in daily life, we lived in a market economy—supply and demand mattered, yes, but so did other things. Prices existed, but we also considered morals and meaning.

Now, it feels like we’ve slid into a market society, where almost everything has a price tag. Self-interest dominates. The monetization of relationships, institutions, even identity, is overwhelming—and it's stripping away ethical, spiritual, and moral weight.

Donald Trump isn’t the only transactional figure—just the loudest. Unfortunately, he’s not unusual. This value-focused, monetized, selfish society isn’t just uncomfortable, it’s dangerous. Do your best to resist it and stay in a market economy and resist the urge to become part of a market society. Be mindful. Choose your relationships—and your values and what you value—carefully.

Note, inspired by Mark Carney’s book   Values: How to fix our politics, economics and values: Building a Better World for All

If You Give, You Will Always Have

“No one has ever become poor by giving.” – Anne Frank
Chinese proverb: “If you give, you will always have.”

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the challenges of our angry and conflict intense world. One meaningful antidote to this sense of helplessness is to be charitable. Giving is gratitude in action—it allows us to feel useful, connected, and human.

Both Anne Frank’s quote and the Chinese proverb capture a profound truth: when you give, you often find yourself with more than before. Willing and joyful giving somehow blesses you with something far greater than what you gave away. There’s no better word than bless to describe that beautiful exchange.

During the pandemic, we’ve seen countless spontaneous acts of kindness. This generosity speaks to the deeply human capacity for altruism. Being selfless—thinking beyond ourselves—not only uplifts those around us, but also nourishes our own well-being.

Giving can take many forms, often described through the three “T”s: Time, Talent, and Treasure. While financial donations are valuable, giving your time or sharing your talents can be even more powerful. These gifts involve more of your presence, intention, and energy—and they often feel more personally rewarding.

As lockdown restrictions ease, another challenge is emerging: a growing mental health crisis. Economic instability and job losses will continue to test the resilience of individuals and communities alike. In this climate, both governments and citizens will need to reconsider how they give and share the burdens brought on by the pandemic.

If you’re fortunate enough not to be materially affected by this new normal, now is a good time to re-define your giving agenda. Prioritise giving while you’re living, and explore the possibilities beyond money. Offer your time. Share your talents. Lend your voice or your hands.

You’ll find, as the proverb says, that when you give, you’ll always have—and you’ll be richly blessed in return.

Breaking Things

There’s a common saying: “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.”  It’s a safe and convenient strategy—but not one that works well for me. I prefer a different version: “If it isn’t broken, break it, or take it apart”  When I see something functioning properly, it instinctively sparks my curiosity. Why does this work so well? What hidden principle or clever quirk is it taking advantage of? And more importantly, where else could this clever or unique idea be applied?

Thomas Edison once said, “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”

Similarly, Albert Einstein advised, “Make mistakes. A person who never made a mistake never did anything new.”

There’s no shortage of successful people who attribute their progress to trial, error, and experimentation.

Breaking things—metaphorically—to see if they can be improved is about exploring, failing, and learning. Stirring a cocktail of how, why, failure, and wonder into our routines keeps us actively engaged in the present moment. When we examine the sequence of steps in a task and ask whether each one is necessary, or whether they could be reordered or simplified, we invite insight. If the experiment doesn’t work, we’ve still learned something—and might just need to break it differently next time. Interestingly, as we engage more deeply with a task, we often gain not only efficiency but also a greater sense of ownership.

If you look at the lives of high achievers or listen to their advice, you’ll find a common theme: failure, setbacks, and missteps. But they keep experimenting, learning, and adjusting. They set challenging but achievable goals, expecting failure along the way. In this context, failure doesn’t block progress—it enhances it. Whether an experiment succeeds or not, both outcomes offer the chance for awe, insight, and growth.

So go ahead—break, or at least tinker with, one of your rituals. See what happens when you make it new.

Moving from Success to Significance

Alan Watts wisely said,
“No valid plans for the future can be made by those who have no capacity for living now.”

Too often, we postpone living. Many people spend their working years imagining that retirement will suddenly unlock joy, purpose, and fulfilment. In doing so, they risk undervaluing their present life—especially those busy years spent raising children or pursuing career goals. They place life on hold, hoping that meaning will magically emerge once the work chapter ends.

Bob Buford, in his thought-provoking book Halftime: Moving from Success to Significance, offers a more empowering perspective. He suggests that retirement satisfaction isn’t something you stumble into—it's something you build. His core idea? The first half of life is often about achievement and success. But eventually, those external milestones lose their motivational spark. Without deeper purpose, success can start to feel empty.

Peter Drucker added another key insight:
“Efficiency is doing things right. Effectiveness is doing the right things.”

It’s a simple but profound distinction. Being productive isn't enough—we also need to feel purposeful.

Taken together, these reflections point to a vital truth: meaning doesn’t begin at retirement—it begins now. Living with purpose in the present moment is what fuels a more satisfying life, both before and after we leave our formal careers behind.

Three core elements of the PERMA well-being model—Engagement, Meaning, and Achievement—are all amplified when we pursue purpose with intention. That purpose may not be tied to your job title, but it may well draw on your skills, passions, and lived experience in surprising ways.

So, why wait? Begin now. Live with a sense of purpose that uplifts you today and carries you into the future. When purpose becomes your compass, work and retirement no longer sit on opposite sides of life—they begin to merge into one rich, rewarding journey.

Confidence—Results or Effort?

Confidence is a highly valued aspect of well-being—the ability to feel assured in yourself without being overbearing. There are at least two common strategies for developing confidence: one focused on results and achievements, the other grounded in effort.

Consider a university student preparing for a final exam. The results-oriented learner believes that achieving a top grade is all that matters. They cram the material, obsess over knowing everything—down to the obscure topics—and aim to perform with speed, precision, and expertise. But because they can't control the exam itself, they often compensate by overworking, stressing out, and anxiously pacing outside the exam hall. Ironically, despite recognising the importance of confidence, their approach tends to erode it.

By contrast, the effort-oriented learner takes a different path. They begin by creating a study plan, assessing their strengths and weaknesses, and consistently applying themselves through useful, targeted learning. Their belief is simple: if they’ve put in their best, most honest effort, then they can have confidence that the results will reflect that. They focus on what they can control—their preparation—and trust the outcome, whatever it may be. Whether they succeed or fall short, they reflect, learn, and grow. Over time, this mindset strengthens their self-assurance, as they witness the relationship between effort and improvement.

Now imagine you're heading into a job interview, meeting a new client, preparing for a driving test, or starting a new relationship. In each case, confidence can significantly affect the outcome. You can either obsess over the result or invest fully in your effort. The latter is far more empowering—and much more within your control.

As Henry Ford said,

“Whether you think you can or you can’t, you’re right.”

Believing in your effort nurtures real confidence. By striving to be the best version of yourself through genuine effort, you build resilience, self-belief, and well-being. Focus too much on the result, and you risk losing all three.

Judging or Thinking

Carl Jung once said, “Thinking is difficult, that’s why most people judge.” Unfortunately, that feels painfully true.

Being judgmental is toxic to our well-being. Mindfulness begins with a commitment to being non-judgemental—towards ourselves and others—and present in the moment. Quick judgements often unhelpfully inflate or deflate our sense of self-worth. But how does that actually serve our peace of mind?

True judgement involves reasoning. It requires informed understanding and the ability to consider things from multiple perspectives. Few issues are ever truly black and white. There’s a world of difference between rushing to judge someone and forming a considered, thoughtful, and objective conclusion.

The Bible reminds us that only God can truly judge, as only He sees the motives of the heart. It urges us to examine ourselves before casting judgement on others. That humility is crucial.

When we must judge, it’s vital to do so with care and fairness. It demands effort and deep thinking—qualities that are easy to overlook in our fast-paced lives. But proper judgement isn’t lazy; it’s deliberate. It requires slowing down, thinking critically, and being aware of our own biases. Thinking is difficult. So is being objective—but both are essential.

Perhaps we should start by identifying the areas of life that truly matter to us. Become well-informed in those domains. Learn to apply just and balanced judgement where it's meaningful—and release the rest. Judge yourself first. Only then, if needed, turn that lens outward.

Letting go of our judgemental tendencies is both grounding and empowering—but it’s not easy. Begin by choosing to judge less often and observe the impact. Notice how it changes your mindset, your relationships, your inner peace.

It’s definitely a work in progress. But every step towards being less judgemental and more thoughtful is a step towards greater wisdom and well-being.

My First Wellness Experience

The first time something significant happens in our lives, it earns a special place in our memory archive. One of those moments for me was completing a series of counselling sessions as a typically confused university learner over fifty years ago.

As the final session ended, the counsellor said something that became one of the most profound messages I have ever heard. He said:

"Johan, you and I are essentially the same. Whatever you want, I likely want too. And whatever you don’t want, I probably don’t want either. Emotionally, we are essentially the same."

With that farewell, we parted ways. Initially, I rejected the comment. Racially, in terms of age, intellect, and almost every other aspect, we seemed highly dissimilar. But the words lingered. I pondered his comment over the years, and after about a decade, it became one of my foundational wellness principles.

With few exceptions, everyone has extremely similar emotional needs and aspirations. Outwardly, we may be very different, but inwardly, we are almost carbon copies of one another. How we express and pursue these emotional needs may vary, but we are largely coming from the same place, seeking similar outcomes.

Acknowledging and accepting our shared emotional core is empowering—especially when it comes to doing something constructive or nurturing joyful aspirations. You see something beautiful, or someone in need of a helping hand. You feel a moment of joy, a desire for understanding, or a wave of loneliness or enthusiasm—well, that stranger next to you, or even a friend, can often recognise and share that emotion. Most people will respond without judgement.

And yet, what do we do? We keep our emotions hidden, assuming others won’t understand. Too much of our wellness is privatised, silenced, hidden, or denied. What a shame!

Yes, each of us is unique and special. But that individuality shouldn’t stop us from celebrating and sharing our positive commonality and inner richness. Accepting that we are deeply similar—and hardwired to be cautious but also non-judgemental—suggests that risking kindness, openness, and emotional honesty is unlikely to backfire.

In all the years since, I can remember only a few instances when my openness was resented or had negative consequences. But the number of wonderful moments it created is too great to count.

Please, experiment with, celebrate, and share our positive commonality. It can brighten someone’s day—and yours too.

Third Best*

Some people are perfectionists, but I am definitely an imperfectionist. Getting something about 95% right, complete or fitted is good enough for me. I’m good at painting a wall or ceiling, but getting the trim perfect is well beyond my pay grade (not to mention the spills, which end up everywhere). Despite the imperfections and minor flaws, I get a strong sense of accomplishment and manage to complete a lot of projects and tasks.

Being okay with the fact that I have limitations—and that I am a finite, flawed, constrained, and average human being—gives me immense joy and peace. That doesn’t mean I don’t push myself to improve; rather, it empowers me to be more ambitious, to learn from my mistakes, and to let go of perfection or the pursuit of 99% excellence. Being more easily satisfied, yet keen to experiment and grow from my errors, builds confidence and encourages an urge to explore new opportunities or try something different. In most cases, good enough is actually very good—and often beyond the reach or criticism of many people. There will always be weaknesses or mistakes and opportunities for others to complain or improve, but there are even more chances for praise and thanks.

If perfection is about getting the best solution or being first, then imperfecting is about being third best. Imperfecting means deliberately practising being okay with imperfection and accepting your flaws. What I’ve observed is that “first” or “best” rarely occurs, “second best” is often late and takes too long to achieve, and “third best” is actually timely and quite excellent in most ways—with only me noticing the mistakes. At an Olympic award ceremony, it’s been noted that the bronze medallist is generally pleased with themselves and far more content than the silver medallist.

As wonderful as the notion of optimising is in economics and finance, living in a state of satisficing and imperfection is peaceful, confidence-building, and aspirational. The smaller-cup lifestyle is about continually trying to get a little better, making improvements, and savouring your third-best accomplishments.

Welcoming your finite, flawed, limited nature is empowering. And if you keep up your third-place successes, they eventually become better than the “best” finish you once aimed for.

*Inspired by "The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are" by Brené Brown

Self-Talk and Self-Love*

Have you ever listened carefully to your self-talking, that whispering voice inside your head that chats with you all too regularly? What does that voice say to you about yourself? Would you classify this conversation as a dear friend, an objective observer, or just mindless chatter? Further, would you openly engage in a similar style of conversation with a friend, colleague, or foe?

Perhaps your inner voice is different from mine, but my self-talk was not the most friendly, helpful, or objective dialogue I had with myself. And my how this chatter was so harshly judgemental. Over time, I have managed to tame this rhetoric by consciously ignoring, reframing, or challenging this running commentary. It started with acknowledging that this internal voice was unkind to my best friend—ME!!  I would NEVER be so harsh or judgemental to anyone else, from a best friend to most adversaries, so why was I so unkind and difficult to myself?

Then I considered the Golden Rule, which correctly states:
“Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Or don’t do to others what you would have them not do unto you.”

The Reverse Golden Rule conjures up the complementary position, being:
“Don’t do to yourself what you would not do to others. Or do to yourself what you would do to others.”

Essentially, be kind and selfish to yourself—exercise some self-love. Self-talk usually blatantly violates the Reverse Golden Rule; you treat yourself worse than my less favourite person.  (Note, I avoid the word EMENY as that term is poisonous to yourself and should be removed from your vocabulary and consciousness, but is another matter.) It takes you to a place of extreme self-judgement and impossible expectations. Rarely is this internal dialogue objective; rather, it is cruelly, subjectively biased against yourself and who you are.

I am not suggesting that self-reflection is unhelpful or unconstructive, but rather that you should deliberately debate with your inner voice, challenge its conclusions and inferences about yourself. That internal critic usually has a point that is worth entertaining, but it should not overwhelm your essential character—which is likely that you are a noble and worthy person. Please befriend your self-talking persona and make it your partner, confidant, and ally.

*          Inspired by thoughts stirred up by Balance, a meditation app and Meditations for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman

There Is Always Something

Imagine that you’d solved all your problems—your health is great, your relationships are solid, work’s going fine, money’s no issue. Everything’s sorted. Would you be content and carefree? At peace? Or would your mind just quietly come up with a fresh list of things to worry about?

Gilda Radner once said,

“It’s always something.”

Most of us will probably never get to a point where every single “something” is wrapped up and finished with. Life doesn’t really work that way—it’s an ongoing work in progress. We’re finite human with only so much time, energy, and skill. So maybe we’re not even meant for some perfect, problem-free version of life. And even if it was possible… would it actually feel that great?

Thinking too much about some future where everything’s sorted often just takes us out of the present moment. It sets us up to be disappointed. And, honestly, it might even be boring. That constant pressure to make today better than yesterday can end up making us feel worse. The closer we get to “perfect,” the more impossible it seems.

And then, if we ever did get there—whatever “there” is—what would be left? No problems, no friction. But also, no drive, no learning, no surprise. Where would stuff like purpose, excitement, or even joy come from? Plus, let’s be real—software can already do a lot of the jobs and tasks we used to spend our time on. If nothing ever needed fixing or figuring out, what would actually make us feel useful?  Isn’t problem solving one of the joys of life  whether as part of your job or a hobby.

I’m not saying your current problems don’t matter. They do. But maybe the idea that we should be aiming for a life without any problems at all—that’s the bit that needs questioning. There’s a saying: Beyond the mountains, more mountains. Life keeps going. And weirdly, that might be the good bit. The climbing, not the arriving.

Inspired by “Meditations for Mortals” by Oliver Burkeman

Resilience and Spirituality

Before you jump to any conclusion, let me define spirituality. I’m using Brené Brown’s definition:

Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion. Practicing spirituality brings a sense of perspective, meaning, and purpose to our lives.

What Brené and others have noticed is that spiritual people tend to be more resilient. Also, more whole-hearted. They seem more at peace—with themselves and with the world. Spirituality blends four positive emotions—hope, love, serenity, and awe—into a mindset, or maybe a way of being. Not surprisingly, one feels calmer, more connected. Add some gratitude to that and you get a kind of wellness kaleidoscope.

Still, for many people, there’s a bit of fear or suspicion around spirituality. Like, if you go there, you might turn into some kind of Jesus freak or end up shouting Bible verses on the street corner. That’s not what I—or Brené—mean. It’s kind of the opposite, actually.

It starts more with awe. With looking up at the stars and thinking, “Wow, I’m tiny and insignificant.” It’s that mix of wonder, smallness, letting go of control—and allowing love and connection to step in. There’s a certain naivety, a gentleness, and a release in that.

Resilience means bouncing back when life feels too much. It means not getting stuck in the present mess but reaching toward a better future. Spirituality supports this—it brings hope. You believe there’s something bigger at work. And in that belief, there’s space for peace. For kindness. For not judging others—or yourself.

Religion works for me, but spirituality doesn’t have to be religious. What I do recommend is: befriend your spiritual centre. Grow into it. Through it. You might just find your shalom there.

"The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are" by Brené Brown

Happenstance

Happenstance is often described as a twist of fate or circumstances that seem random but turn out for the best. But is it really all by chance? I’ve found that many of the best moments in my life came from being open to these "lucky" encounters—moments I gave space to, and even actively sought out.

One of my favourite travel principles is: “When in doubt, turn left.” The follow-up to that is: “Get lost.” It’s not about losing direction—more about losing the expectation of a straight path. If I’m wandering down a quiet street and spot a side road to my left, that’s the one I take. More times than not, it’s led me to something wonderful: an unexpected view, a quirky shop, or an interesting conversation. Many of my best memories have come when I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going.

And when I’m in a crowd or just passing through a busy space, I often greet someone nearby with, “Hello, my friend…” Just like that. I can’t count how many times someone has been willing to chat or offer help. Most of the time, people respond with kindness, openness, and genuine interest. It’s funny how a simple, friendly approach can turn a mundane moment into something memorable.

I’ve also come to realise that success, in a sense, happens when preparation meets opportunity. But here’s the thing: we can create our own opportunities by putting ourselves out there. You don’t just wait for things to happen—you make them happen. It’s about being deliberate with your choices and opening yourself to what could come next.

To make this work, start by ensuring you feel SAFE—whatever safety means for you. Understand that stepping outside your comfort zone is part of the process. Embrace it. Let go of the need to control everything. Be respectful of others, and when in doubt, count back from five and then just go for it.

Allowing yourself to embrace vulnerability opens the door to powerful emotions—curiosity, wonder, and joy. Stepping out of your comfort zone doesn’t just stretch it, it can make it bigger. And in the end, you might just find a little bit of magic along the way.

Neuroplasticity

I used to think that change wasn’t possible—that what you saw was what you got. I felt like I was already set, finished. But fortunately, that’s not the case. We can change, sometimes in pretty big ways. This ability to “rewire” our brains is called neuroplasticity. It turns out, our minds are much more like plastic than we think—they can be reshaped. What a hopeful thought! It means we really can become better versions of ourselves, and our well-being can improve. Research shows that about 40% of our well-being comes from our intentions and actions. That’s a lot of potential for positive change!

But here’s the kicker: change doesn’t happen on its own. It requires awareness and intentional effort. If you’re trying to build a new habit, it takes an average of 66 days of consistent practice before it becomes second nature. So, start small—take manageable steps and be patient with yourself.

Let’s say you want to become more thoughtful. To get there, create daily opportunities where you can practice. Look for moments when you can act thoughtfully—whether that’s listening more deeply or doing something kind. Frame your day with a “thoughtful” lens, noticing how others express thoughtfulness too. Bring it into your conversations. Share your goal with those close to you and ask them to acknowledge when you’ve done something thoughtful. Keep track of your progress by journaling your small wins—celebrating even the smallest moments of success. It’s a great way to boost your positive emotions and keep yourself motivated.

Of course, there will be days when it feels like nothing’s changing. That’s normal. Change takes time. Over those 66 days and beyond, your brain will begin to reprogram itself. Little by little, what once felt awkward will start to feel more natural.

Neuroplasticity is proof that we can change for the better. It might be gradual, sometimes clumsy, but the rewards are worth it. So, go for it. Embrace the process of growth. You’ve got this!

Emotions, Solutions (or Just Listen)

Sometimes I ask someone how they’re doing, and they really open up—the emotional kind of open. Highs, lows, worries, old wounds. And without thinking, I start offering advice. “Here’s what you should do…” or “Maybe try this…” It’s meant to be helpful, but it often lands flat. The person goes quiet, or their energy dips. I’ve learned the hard way—they weren’t asking for solutions. They just wanted to be heard.

You’ve probably seen this play out too.

Some people need to talk things through—not to be fixed, but to be felt with. Just speaking the words out loud helps them clear space inside. They’re not looking for advice, just someone to sit with them while they release the pressure.

Others only open up when they’re hoping for guidance. They’re already running through options in their head and want help sorting it out. When they speak, they’re inviting input.

Neither is right or wrong. It’s just how people are wired. But it gets tricky when the person listening assumes the wrong thing. That’s where the trouble starts.

So how do we find our footing?

First, by really listening. Not just waiting for our turn to speak—but actually tuning in. Are they using words that reflect emotion? Or are they focused on the practical side of things? Pay attention to their pace, their tone, their cues. And before jumping in, ask a simple question: “Would you like some thoughts, or should I just listen?” That one line can change everything.

And if you’re the advice-giving type (I know I am), the hardest part might be biting your tongue. But trust me—most of the time, what people need isn’t a solution. It’s a safe space. A little quiet. A nod of understanding.

Because talking helps. Being heard heals. And sometimes, that’s more than enough.

So here’s the heart of it:

LISTEN CAREFULLY, SAY LITTLE, LET GO OF JUDGEMENT AND ASK IF ADVICE IS USEFUL BEFORE GIVING IT.

Multi-Tasking and Listening

Can we really do two MEANINGFUL things at the same time? Not just walking and chewing gum—that’s easy. But something like having a real conversation with a friend while planning tomorrow’s big to-do list in your head. Or trying to solve two proper problems at once. It sounds impressive in theory, but in practice? Not so much. Usually, both things end up done halfway, and you’re left feeling scattered.

For a while, multi-tasking had a bit of a golden glow about it. People wore it like a badge of honour. The more tasks you could juggle, the more capable and productive you seemed. But lately, that thinking is starting to shift. More and more, we’re beginning to realise that doing lots at once often means doing nothing particularly well.

Turns out, the brain doesn’t actually multitask the way we thought it did. It flicks back and forth between things, which leaves us with split attention and not much depth. That kind of scattered focus isn’t just inefficient—it’s exhausting. You’re not really present with any of it.

And nowhere is this more noticeable than in our conversations. Listening—truly listening—is one of the most generous things we can offer someone. But how often are we fully tuned in? Not glancing at our phone, or thinking about what we’ll say next, or ticking off a mental list while nodding politely. Just properly being there.

It's hard work, being that present. And it matters. Often, how closely we listen reflects how much we value the person we’re talking to. Next time you’re in a chat, try checking in: Am I here? Or am I just filling the silence until it’s my turn to speak? Am I trying to be interesting, or trying to understand?

These questions can be a bit uncomfortable, sure. But they’re worth asking. I know I’ve got plenty of room to grow. Some days I do better than others. But I’m trying.

Because one thing I’m learning—slowly—is that doing one thing with care and presence beats doing five things halfway. Especially when it comes to the people who matter.

One conversation at a time. That’s more than enough.

*: Travis Bradberry, Ph.D. Multitasking Damages Your Brain and Your Career, 2014 TalentSmart® www.talentsmart.com.