You remember the game — a tray of items, a towel, and the dreaded question: what’s missing? I was always terrible at it. Maybe that’s not a bad thing.
You Should Auction That
The suggestion came in the middle of a special charity event. We had a signed book, featuring the amazing life story of the organisation’s founder, which I had planned to give away at the end of the night.
“You should auction the book.”
On the face of it, it seemed like a good idea. Get people to bid and create more of a buzz at the event, and raise a bucket load of money for the charity. It’s a win-win, right?
Here’s the thing though, events are terrible for fundraising.
Before you disagree outright, because you have attended one where hundreds of thousands of dollars are raised, hear me out.
They are terrible for three reasons:
- The big gala events that tout large amounts of attendees and funds raised, cost almost as much as they raise. At best, they cost half of what they bring in. A 50% fundraising ratio on an activity is not great.
- The money given at events is extremely transactional. It consists of the cost that people are willing to pay to be part of the experience and the cost that people are willing to pay to look like they are generous. Both are still generosity, but it is unlikely that those who attend and give will grow a deeper relationship with the organisation they are supporting. Often they are unaware of what the organisation does, or even who they are.
- For those that really do care about the organisation they are supporting, they would give anyway, event or not. What looks like a wonderful way to connect with supporters turns out to be an expensive way to ask someone to give who would do it in response to a face to face coffee, or phone call.
Of course there are other things that come from events, like awareness of the organisation and the way the people feel about it – events can create endless good vibes. But based on pure fundraising, they are terrible. They promote transactions, not generosity. Only quality relationships foster the type of long-term generosity that can really benefit charities.
We gave the book away as planned at the event and the recipient loved it – probably more than they would have if they ‘won’ it in an auction.
The Invisible Things
“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Antoine de Saint-Exupéry – The Little Prince
If the essential things are invisible, does that mean that the things that are visible are unimportant? Or less important? That’s a tough sell today.
If true, it puts a great deal of life into a clearer perspective. Much of how we live our lives and express ourselves, by this measure, would be deemed unimportant.
The key question is what, then, is important?
I keep coming back to people. Not those who see us but those we truly see. The ones we interact with on a daily basis, that we care about, that we feed in to, that we love and nurture and journey with.
Then it is the people that we have loose connections with, how we treat those who make our coffee, or serve us lunch, or those trying to park in the parking space next to us.
Then it is the wider world around us. The people we will never meet who are impacted by how we live, the animals that call this planet their home too, and the planet that sustains our life, both of which we are inter-connected to.
These are the important things, the invisible things, the generous things. How we relate to them and our attitude towards them cannot be seen because it comes from within each of us.
The rest of life, the external stuff that people do see, is unimportant in comparison.
The Fruit of Being Generous
There are so many benefits to being generous.
Not just for the people receiving it, but for the person giving it too. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to experience good things as a result of choosing to be generous.
The catch is that generosity can’t be driven only by what you get back. The moment it becomes transactional, it stops being generosity and starts becoming something different, more of a calculation.
But when generosity is genuine, it begins to bear fruit.
Not always immediately. Not always in obvious ways. But over time, it becomes noticeable.
It shows up in your attitude. A lighter way of seeing people. Less cynicism. More patience than you used to have.
It shows up in your lifestyle. Less focused on holding tightly, more open-handed in how you live and relate to what you have.
And it shows up in your finances too. Not necessarily more or less money, but a different relationship with it. Less fear. Less grip. More clarity about what it’s for.
The strange thing about generosity is that it grows both outward and inward at the same time.
You give something away.
And somehow, you grow fruit for yourself.
I Thought I Was Wrong Once…
You’ve probably met someone who says: “I thought I was wrong once… but I was mistaken.”
Usually followed by laughter. It’s a little bit funny but occasionally you meet people who aren’t entirely joking when they say it.
They genuinely struggle to imagine that they could be wrong about something. It can happen to all of us at one time or another.
We like being right. We like winning arguments. We like certainty.
We like the feeling of standing on solid ground while someone else changes their mind.
But the reality is that we are all wrong about something. Failing to admit that or even to entertain the idea that it is possible is more about self-preservation than finding the truth.
Conflict happens all the time, and that’s not a bad thing, if it is done well. Generosity matters a great deal in our daily conflict.
Because generous conflict leaves room for the possibility that we may have missed something. Or misunderstood something. Or simply got it wrong.
Ungenerous conflict needs victory.
Generous conflict values the relationship more than the scoreboard.
That doesn’t mean pretending truth does not matter. It just means humility matters too.
Being able to say:
“You were right.”
Or even:
“You might be right.”
…is a deeply generous thing.
And if you happen to be right this time, rubbing it in rarely helps anyone.
Grace is important on both sides of the argument.
Just Be Here
It seems wild to me that this is a thing now. But putting your phone down is legitimately an act of generosity. And it probably needs to be more than just down, but away, somewhere out of sight. The mere presence of it makes the quality of conversation lower, even if you’re not looking at or touching your phone.
Companies pay billions of dollars to capture your attention, and instead, you are saying no to them and choosing to give it to just one person, for this moment right now. What a gift.
So, put it away for a bit. Give your full attention to someone else, or even yourself. This is a remarkable thing to offer.
It quietly says:
“You matter.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’d rather be here with you than somewhere else.”
Honestly, if someone said that out loud to me, I’d either feel deeply valued or incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe both, depending on the person. Such is the power of attention.
It doesn’t have to be an hour. Start with five minutes.
Ignore the desire to:
…check the notification.
…search the random fact.
…scroll to see what other people are eating.
Just be there.
Because in a distracted world, attention might be the most generous thing you have to give.
The Most Generous Person in the World
Who is the most generous person in the world?
It’s a hard question, with many ways to answer.
If we measure generosity by dollar amount, then the usual names come up. Bill Gates. Warren Buffett. Billionaires giving away billions.
Fair enough.
But the deeper you go into the question, the harder it becomes to answer.
If generosity is measured by percentage given away, then maybe Chuck Feeney belongs near the top. He spent much of his life quietly giving almost all his wealth away.
If generosity is measured by trust, then maybe MacKenzie Scott belongs near the top. She gives large amounts away quickly, and completely trusting the organisations to spend it wisely.
If generosity is measured in time, sacrifice and service to others, then you can’t go past Mother Teresa.
But maybe, some of the most generous people are not people you have heard of.
I think about the parents I know who quietly sacrifice opportunities for themselves so their kids can have them instead.
The friend who answers the phone late at night.
The person who notices someone sitting alone.
The co-worker who makes life easier for everyone else without needing recognition for it.
Tiny acts. Small moments.
Regular people making life a little better for those around them.
Most generosity never gets written about. But I suspect it’s the kind that holds the world together.
The Better Offer
“Thanks, but I got a better offer.”
I’m not sure I’ve heard too many people say that out loud, but certainly that is what they have meant when they let me know that they were unable to attend an event or gathering. Sometimes it is not communicated with words at all, just through them not turning up.
It can feel hard to commit to an event weeks in advance because who knows what else might come up in the meantime?
Sometimes your better offer is listening to your anxiety and staying home.
Sometimes your better offer is choosing one friend over another.
Sometimes your better offer is choosing something that serves you in that moment over what you have already committed to.
There is nothing inherently wrong with any of those choices, but they should be intentional, not habitual.
An underrated act of generosity is simply turning up to something you said you’d go to. Even if you might not feel like it in the moment.
It shows the person that invited that you care. That you respect them. That you recognise the effort it takes to organising something, and that it matters when people come.
And if you can’t make it, letting someone know matters too.
Because people want to be valued and that is often just as important as being there.
How Weakness Becomes Strength
Your greatest strength comes from your greatest struggle.
For me, that strength is curiosity. It’s helped me get to know and understand people well. I’m not the best in the world at it, but I’m pretty good—and it’s served both me and the people around me.
This strength is born from a place of lack—from a deep-seated belief that I didn’t have much to offer in conversations. So I learned to fill silence with questions that draw others out.
Initially I just enjoyed the feeling of relief to not have the pressure of carrying a conversation, but over time I realised that getting to know people is fascinating and a gift that they give to me. Everyone has a story, something interesting going on in their world that we can learn from and be encouraged by.
I’m grateful for those insecure (and incorrect) beliefs, because they led me to develop a strength I can use for good. What I once saw as a weakness has quietly become one of the most valuable parts of who I am.
It didn’t arrive as confidence or clarity. It arrived as compensation—an attempt to avoid discomfort, to fill silence, to protect myself from judgment. But somewhere along the way, that coping mechanism became curiosity. And that curiosity became connection.
The irony is that the belief I was trying to escape—that I didn’t have much to offer—ended up shaping something that helps me draw the best out of others. Not because I fixed myself, but because I followed where that insecurity led long enough to discover its value.
And maybe that’s the point.
We don’t just grow by eliminating our weaknesses. Sometimes we grow by walking through them long enough that they transform into something useful, even beautiful.
I don’t always need to have the perfect thing to say – and I’m comfortable with that. It keeps me curious, engaged, and open, creating space for other people’s stories to come alive.
And for that, I’m genuinely grateful.
Think Helping Others Is a Waste of Time? Think Again
What’s the best excuse you’ve ever heard for being late?
“I stopped to help someone.”
It’s one of the few reasons no one argues with.
What about,
…I helped a guy push his broken-down car off the road.
…I gave a lift to a friend.
…I waited with a little girl until she found her mum.
…I helped a stranger with directions to the train station.
…I came across a car accident—no one was hurt, but I stayed with one of the drivers until their family arrived.
No one would call any of these a waste of time—even if they made you late. We instinctively recognise them for what they are: good, generous things to do.
In fact, people have lied about doing things like this just to justify being late. I’m not suggesting you do that—but it says something important. Deep down, we all agree: helping others is a good use of our time, even when it disrupts our plans.
That said, if this happens to you all the time, it’s probably best not to talk about it too much. Even good deeds can wear thin if they consistently inconvenience the same people.
It’s interesting, though—we think very differently about giving away our time compared to giving away our money.
We tend to guard our money, but spend our time freely.
And yet, we have far less time than we do money, although we waste both.
If we spent money the way we spend time, how would that impact us?
Maybe the better question is this:
What would change if we treated our time as something worth giving, rather than something we’re always trying to protect?
Because the minutes you “lose” helping someone else are rarely wasted.
They’re often the ones that matter most.
Assume the Best: The Secret to Clearer Communication
You know the saying, “Never make an assumption—it makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘mption’.” Or something like that.
Truly understanding what someone is saying, rather than what you think they are saying, takes time and effort. There’s no denying it—it’s hard work—but the payoff is huge: fewer misunderstandings and a safer space for open communication.
As James Clear puts it, “Not taking things personally can be a form of generosity. You give people the space to say things imperfectly.”
In my experience, the only consistently safe assumption is to assume the best intentions of the person you’re communicating with. Assume they are trying to help, share something positive, or are maybe having a rough moment and their words aren’t really about you. Even if you’re wrong, starting from that mindset gives the relationship room to grow, recover, or shift to a healthier space.
Assuming the worst, on the other hand, is much harder to work with—and you’ll often be wrong more than you’re right.
The Generosity Guy 