“Them’s fightin’ words!”

This was the response from someone when I pitched my understanding of what Opportunity International Australia does, as someone who works there. They were uncomfortable at the adversarial language I used, but the reality is, ending poverty for families is innately adversarial. It is a fight. It is the removal of accepted systems and a replacement with other methods.

I think life is more adversarial than we may realise, even as we go about our everyday lives. We might think that we are harming no one, living in peace with those around us, sure a little bit jaded and cynical of the world, but perhaps we are missing something, like the cost of that ‘peace’.

Nick Cave said, “Cynicism is not a neutral position — and although it asks almost nothing of us, it is highly infectious and unbelievably destructive…Unlike cynicism, hopefulness is hard-earned, makes demands upon us, and can often feel like the most indefensible and lonely place on Earth. Hopefulness is not a neutral position either. It is adversarial.”

Generosity is work. Generosity is adversarial. Generosity says “I value something outside of myself”, and it seeks to change the status quo.

Stinginess is easy, but not neutral. It seeks to keep things as they are.

Perhaps there are no neutral positions.

It’s not a competition…but I’m winning

“Well done everyone…mostly me”

It has become a standard saying that I share with my kids at the end of a car trip. It started out as a show of appreciation for how well they behaved in the car on the way home from wherever we were, but something within me wanted to make sure that they knew I did most of the work by driving. It’s a joke…mostly, with a bit of ego.

The same instinct shows up in other areas of life that are supposed to be about someone else entirely. There can be some giant egos attempting to hide inside generous acts. The kind of ego that needs the name on everything they give to, that talks about it constantly to anyone within earshot, that compares their acts against others, not for the benefit of encouraging others to generous acts, but to boost their own profile.

The paradox is that good things can and will come from that sort of generosity. People will be helped, communities will grow and obstacles will be overcome. But probably not as much as they would if the ego was a little less.

But how do you know if there is a giant ego hiding behind your generous acts?

Simply put, if you are trying to prove to someone that you are generous (even if it is only you that you are trying to prove it to), then your ego is very active.

I am always happy to call out great acts of generosity; I think people should have names on buildings if they have given significantly to help create them. But it is not a competition.

Generosity doesn’t need the recognition, but also doesn’t need to be completely anonymous. It has the strength of character to handle both.

“Well done everyone”. (minus the “mostly me”).

Generosity, On Purpose

“Choose generosity, knowing your actions can extend beyond yourself”. Neale Daniher – The Power of Choice

Maybe some people are just wired to be generous. They exude thoughtfulness, gratitude and generosity. It just seems to come naturally to them as they care for those around them and seem to be able to lessen the burdens of others simply by being in the same room.

I don’t think I’m one of those people…yet. I’m working on it, but it doesn’t exude from me, especially if you catch me before I’ve had my morning coffee, or if it’s too cold outside, or if my favourite sporting team recently lost (there is a specific set of conditions that need to be right…)

So, for the rest of us, I think the quote from Neale Daniher is an excellent place to start. He wrote “The Power of Choice” for his grandchildren, passing on what he had learned through life and his battle with motor neurone disease, which he succumbed to in May 2026.

As a result, his quote carries a great deal of weight. Because before generosity exudes, it is chosen. It is an active choice, that sometimes may feel like it goes against the grain of what we might want, but the outcome of it, once chosen creates ramifications that ‘extend beyond yourself’. I think there is something in that, something that we all want. To make a difference to others in our world, be that our families, people in our community or those we will never meet. That is the power of generosity.

It doesn’t just happen. It needs to be chosen, on purpose, regardless of the coffee or the weather or the sporting result.

What Makes It Generosity?

A gift without cost is a platitude.

Generosity is innately costly. When we give something away to someone else there is always the opportunity cost of what we could have done with that time, money, energy, idea or item.

It’s important to recognise that, perhaps mostly because it will be encouraging for you when you realise just how generous you already are. We can overlook the things we do for others or what we give away and say, “It was nothing really.” But it was something. Even if it was small.

It is also useful to notice an area in your life where you might think you are being generous, but you aren’t.

Does that mean that you have to make sure that every time you do something nice for someone else it costs you something?

If there is no thought given, nothing else you could have bought, or done with your time or your energy, even though it was probably a nice thing to do, it may not be an act of generosity. There is a difference between being nice and being generous.

There’s no need to be legalistic about it, it’s just good to recognise if your giving is costing you something. How much you are willing for it to cost you is entirely up to you.

A Slightly Bruised Raspberry

Gerda Weissmann Klein, a Holocaust survivor, told a story about her friend, Ilse, when they were both in one of the worst Nazi concentration camps.

“She once found a raspberry in the gutter on the way to the factory…and she saved it all day long.

She carried it in her pocket – the temptation must have been incredible – and she gave it to me that night on a leaf. She had plucked a leaf through the barbed wire, washed it and presented me with one slightly bruised raspberry.”

Ilse’s only possession in the world was a bruised raspberry, that she found, and it became her sole focus to protect it and give it to her friend.

That is generosity in its purest form. She could have consumed it herself and no one would have known, but the idea of bringing her friend an ounce of joy in the darkest of places was much more important to her than anything else.

I don’t know about you, but upon reading about Ilse and Gerda I arrived at a point where I felt like I could never become generous like that. I am honestly not sure I could be capable of that sort of generosity or love.

At the same time, I am aware of the sense of joy that an outrageous, sacrificial act of generosity can bring.

I could buy punnets of raspberries today, set up a table on the street and hand them out one by one, to be just like Ilse, but that is ridiculous. It’s not about the raspberry, this story is about the sacrifice. The challenge that I find here is about whether my generosity costs me something, or if I am giving out of comfort. There is nothing wrong with that, but my sense is that generosity without a cost is a platitude.

Why should I water someone else’s garden?

I don’t garden. My grass is fake. My plants are indestructible. Watering happens automatically.

The most I do is pull out weeds and sweep up leaves. So I don’t know the joy of toiling in the soil and watching something I have cultivated grow into a beautiful plant or a food source that could be eaten. The idea of growth in a garden is beautiful and I know that some people love it, but I just don’t understand the draw. Perhaps when I get older it will become a thing for me, but I’m not holding my breath.

What I do understand is seeing things grow in other people. As they learn and develop in their skillsets, resilience and courage. Be they children or other individuals.

I coached my son’s cricket team last season. It was my first foray into the coaching world of kids sports. Was I good at it? Not really, but the kids did develop and improve from the start of the season to the end. Watching them go through that journey, seeing them enjoy that, and knowing that I had a tiny part to play in it, brought me joy.

I’m not sure who it was that said, “When you water someone else’s garden, your own begins to bloom.” But I think I know a little bit about what they were trying to say.

Unexpressed Gratitude is Selfish

I catch myself in moments of gratitude. Usually I am alone, and a thought hits me,
“Boy, I am so grateful for…”

Usually it is about my wife, but often it is also about my kids. They are all so great, and it feels good to be reminded of that. I then begin to wish I wasn’t alone in that moment so I could share that with them.

“When I see them next time, I will tell them how I feel about them.”

Then I walk in the door to my home and normal life kicks in with the importance of getting people fed, bathed, read to and in bed at an appropriate time.

My grateful thoughts have disappeared and the desire to share them with my family is also gone.

I guess this is how we end up not expressing ourselves to those closest to us.

I know, I’m a cliché.

I think about it often, it’s my version of ‘if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it…’. If gratitude is unexpressed, is it really gratitude?

I’m not sure if it is. I think that if I feel grateful to someone for who they are, especially someone close to me, and I don’t express it, that is selfish on my part. Everyone deserves to have gratitude expressed to them, about them. Keeping that from people is unfair.

Every night at our dinner table, we share 3 things that we are grateful for in that day. It has become a list of things, which is great. Perhaps I can add “1 person that I am grateful to”, as a means to express my gratitude to those around me, and become a little less selfish.

Fire or Light?

I used to run from difficult emotions. Discomfort, or anxiety, or sadness. I would avoid them all. For some reason I thought that if I sat in them and experienced what they were, I would be trapped and never get out. I didn’t want that. I wanted to be happy.

It took me a while and some challenging relationships to discover that this is no way to live. I found myself in a place where I wanted to face those emotions.

The first counsellor I saw told me that if you sit with a challenging emotion like the ones I was trying to avoid, they generally pass in around 45 minutes. I have no idea if that is true or not, but having an end time on it gave me the confidence to try it and I can confirm that I am a little better at sitting with those emotions now.

But it took a tough choice to begin that journey. I was caught in a place where I was in emotional turmoil, and I knew that if I didn’t do something it was likely I would end up in that place again somewhere down the road. I certainly didn’t want that, so I did the work.

As is often the case, when life gets hard, when it’s time to change, we generally only act because we feel the fire, or we see the light.

Or as an addiction specialist put it, “No one gets sober until being drunk is more painful than facing the thing you are running from”.

I’ve seen changes in others as they have intentionally become generous because they realised that staying stingy is more painful than giving something away. They felt the pain of relationships lost, or of the hold that money has over them, or the wrongs in the world that they were in a position to fix.

Whether it is because you feel the fire of what not giving will do, or you see the light of what is possible through your giving, generosity is much less painful than not being generous.

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:

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.