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.

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.

What’s Missing?

“What’s missing?” The question creates a certain panic in me, even now.

You probably remember the classic game where you are presented with a tray of items covered with a small towel, you are shown the items for a few seconds which is your time to try to remember as many items as you can – stapler, rubber band, paperclip, toy car, watch, pencil sharpener. Then the towel is replaced and you need to write down as many items as you can remember.

Where it became ‘next level’ intense was when some items were removed, you are shown what is left, and you need to recall what is no longer there. This seemed to come really easily to some people, but I always struggled to see what wasn’t there.

Perhaps it is because I have a below average short-term memory, although I like to think that it is because I am content with what I have that I don’t feel the need to look for what’s missing (it’s probably the first one though). Maybe that’s the real difference between the two versions of the game — one trains you to notice what’s gone, the other to notice what’s still there.

Lao Tzu said:

“Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.”

Focusing on what is already there in life can be difficult. We get used to things, to waking up in the same bed, seeing the same people, eating the same food, and we can easily forget that we have a bed, people in our life who love us and food to eat. Rather than being ordinary things, they are in fact, extraordinary. Things we can rejoice in and be grateful for.

Perhaps that’s what Lao Tzu means when he said that when we realise there is nothing lacking that ‘the whole world belongs to you’. Out of a realisation that we have enough, anything becomes possible, we have the whole world at our feet, and we can afford to be generous with what we already have.

“What could I possibly do to change that?”

I have heard that question many times over the years as people look down the barrel of global or national events that have dramatically influenced our lives.

“Honestly, nothing.” I respond.

Then we sit in the despair that follows.

But I can’t stay there, because despair keeps you paralysed and I am a big believer in doing little things each day that build up over time. It’s those small acts which, done diligently and away from the limelight, end up making a big difference. They won’t end a war today. They won’t fix the environment today. They won’t even ensure that my kids will eat all their dinner tonight. But maybe tomorrow something might shift a little. Then a little more the next day. And the day after that.

Nic Cave said, “Even our smallest actions have potential for great change, positively or negatively…You are anything but impotent, you are, in fact, exquisitely and frighteningly dynamic…and…you have an obligation to stand up and take responsibility for that potential. It is your most ordinary and urgent duty.”

We don’t need to sit in despair at the enormity of the challenges that lay ahead. We have an obligation and a responsibility to act, to do what we can with what is in our control. There is purpose in that. It is also, innately generous.

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.

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.