Do good shit. Do it for free and do it often.
Everyone these days seem to be focused on change. Thinking of ways to make a massive difference to the world.
Create an impact.
Leave a legacy….
The problem with this approach is that when we’re focused on a something huge like this, it’s easy to lose the tree in the forest. It becomes too overwhelming, too difficult, and then ultimately much easier to find reasons not to do it, so the easiest thing is to do nothing….
From there many fall into the victim mindset.
It’s too cold, too hot, people don’t get me, there’s no time, I have too much to do, I have no money etc.
Become a victim; and you become irrelevant…
We don’t have to volunteer our whole weekend, donate once a month, or even give an organ away to feel good. The trick is to make small differences, consistently.
Taste the drug slowly rather than drown in the overdose.
Deep down we all know the difference between right and wrong. And if you don’t, you might as well stop reading because this is not for you.
At its core, its primal.
Do good shit, we feel good.
Do bad shit, we feel bad…
Do we really need religion and politics to understand this?
There’s actually a whole chemical process behind this theory which takes you down many rabbit holes. Google and check out some great studies… Its not rocket science… its actually better!
I always look for ways to make a small difference. Doesn’t matter if it’s to a person, animal, or thing. I do it selfishly because I’m aware it makes me feel good.
I like to think I have a great memory when I think back to the times I felt great, it was when I made a small difference. There are thousands of these memories…
I want to share one story that stands out for me right now. It’s similar to The Starfish story by Loren Eisley, but this story is mine so it’s better 😉 It was back in 2016/17. Actually, it was on the crossover from New Years Eve to New Years Day. I was running an event called The Narrabeen All Nighter.
The event had started at 6pm NYE and finished at 6am NYD and was run on a trail that went for 2.5km before returning. So we went back and forth for 12 hours throughout the night, measuring how many overall kilometres everyone could individually do.
It’s interesting where the mind can go when it’s sleep deprived and the body is beyond fatigued. It thinks about crazy stuff, as compartments open up and bring in new perspective that was hidden behind shut doors. But it’s not the thoughts I remember of that night, it was the actions I took when I was trying to save the night insects and cicadas.
Summertime in Australia is synonymous with cicadas. I’ve always loved listening and catching them growing up. The Green Grocers were the common ones and the small Black Beauties were much harder to find. I actually believed they were endangered cause I hardly ever saw them.
In the wee hours of the run, at about 2am I started to get hit by something as I was running along.
Sleep deprivation and fatigue had me ignore it until something flew right in my mouth, right as I was sucking in the night time oxygen. When I spat it out, I noticed it was a Black Beauty. In fact as I looked around with my head-torch I saw them everywhere on the ground. Many crushed by other runners. Many more just sitting on the trail as they would normally do night after night.
I remember bending over to pick them up but a bloody cramp immediately got me, so all I could do was shoo them to the scrub beside the trail with my foot out of harms way. This was only on a small section of the 2.5km track, so every time I ran back and forth I’d have to slow to a walk and push as many of the critters off to the side, cringing at how many of them were being crushed.
At one point a man stopped and said “hey, I’ve been watching you for 4 laps now, why are you bothering? Besides, it must be slowing you down heaps and it is a race”. I told him how firstly I wasn’t going to win and I’ve chosen to make this part of my race. Secondly, I liked cicadas and for every night of the season they probably land here without a problem in the world, except this night when the race is on and us crazy bastards come trampling through their playground. Better to start the year saving rather than ignoring…
“But it’s the natural cycle, the ants and lizards will eat them all up. Besides, there’s cicadas getting crushed all over this trail tonight. Really, it will make no difference”? I remember saying nothing for a while as we moved forward side by side. Not long after I stopped, and bending over I fought against the onslaught of cramp as I stubbornly picked up another Back Beauty, looking at him and then tossing it gently into the scrub. “Well I made a difference to that one” I said before we both fell into a silent run side by side for a while. Loren’s story about the starfish coming to mind as a fatigue smile crept across my lips.
I didn’t know the man, didn’t ask for his name and nor did we converse again. But I’m sure as he ran the rest of that race, back and forth he no longer crushed a cicada, I bet he even kicked a few off to the side during the night. Why? Because I know from experience it’s the small difference we make that make us feel good. And in a race like that where i ran almost 80 km i was looking for any reason to feel good during the suffering.
So what’s your race in life?
What small, altruistic thing can you do for no other reason other than selfishly feeling good about yourself?
For years I’ve been saying that this was my favourite race. I’ve done a few long races and I loved (almost) all of them, but this one was my favourite.
Was it because I saved the cicadas and thought I made a difference? I don’t know, maybe not.
But making that difference is what I remember. And remembering that makes me feel good.
So do good shit. Do it for free and do it often.
Do it, and then feel good for having done it!
Written May 2018
