We overcomplicate everything.
Even kindness.

You’ve seen it — someone drops their bag of groceries in the carpark, oranges rolling everywhere, and three people stand there doing a silent calculation:

• Do I have time?
• Will they think I’m weird?
• Shouldn’t someone else help first?

By the time they’ve finished their mental Olympics, the moment’s gone. Either the person has gathered their things, embarrassed, or someone else has stepped in. And those bystanders go back to their cars, telling themselves they were “too busy.”

But the truth? They froze because they thought they needed a reason. They thought helping had to be justified.

Here’s the simplest philosophy you’ll ever need:
​Help when you can, because you can.​
No other reason required.

The Stoics had a word for this kind of nonsense: wasted energy. Seneca, Marcus, Epictetus — they all pointed out how much of our lives we lose to hesitation, second-guessing, ego.

Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome, put it bluntly:
“What is not good for the swarm is not good for the bee.”

In other words, what’s good for others is good for you, too. It’s not about glory. It’s not about keeping score. It’s about doing what needs to be done when you can.

But somewhere along the way, we got clever. Too clever. We turned kindness into a transaction. We started asking:

• Will this help me later?
• Do they deserve it?
• Am I being taken advantage of?

And so we hold back. We let opportunities to do good pass us by.

My daughters don’t always get the Stoic philosophy I always go on about, but they do get this instinctively.

The other day, Isla saw a little girl trip at a park and drop her lunchbox. Without hesitation, she ran over, picked it up, dusted it off, and walked her back to the bench.

When I asked her why she helped, she looked at me like I was an idiot:
“Because she dropped it.”

That’s it. No spreadsheets. No ROI. No philosophy degree required. She helped because she could.

Kids get it. Adults lose it. Somewhere along the way, we grow up and start attaching conditions to our kindness.

The Stoics were relentless about duty. Marcus said, “Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.”

Seneca wrote, “Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness.”

Notice what’s missing: caveats. They don’t say, “Be good… unless you’re busy.” Or, “Be kind… if it’s convenient.”

Duty doesn’t wait for your schedule. Helping doesn’t need a reason. You do it because it’s the right thing to do.

One of the quickest ways to suck the joy out of helping is keeping score. You help your mate move house, then resent him for not helping you paint your fence six months later. You lend money, then stew about how long it takes to get it back.

That’s not helping. That’s bartering. That’s just another form of transaction.

Real helping is one-way. It’s dropping the rope, throwing the ladder, offering the seat without looking around for applause.

And here’s the kicker: people notice anyway. Not always the ones you help. But others. And you. You notice yourself becoming the kind of person who does the right thing. And that builds something far more valuable than reciprocity. It builds character.

The truth is, the big opportunities to help are rare. Most of us won’t pull someone from a car crash or donate a kidney. But the small ones are daily, constant, everywhere.

• Letting someone merge in traffic instead of speeding up to block them.
• Checking in on a mate who’s gone quiet.
• Doing the dishes even though it’s “not your turn.”
• Giving your spouse the bigger half of the dessert (even though you really wanted it).

These are the reps. This is the training. And it’s in these moments that character is built.

Now, let’s be clear — I don’t always get this right, and neither will you.

I’ve ignored phone calls because I “didn’t have the energy.” I’ve walked past someone struggling with a heavy box because I was “running late.” I’ve let my ego whisper, “It’s not your problem.”

We all do it. We all miss chances.

But when I catch myself in those moments and actually act — even on something tiny — I never regret it. I don’t walk away from helping someone and think, “Damn, I wish I hadn’t done that.”

Help when you can, because you can. That’s enough.

The world doesn’t need more justifications, more hot takes, more conditions. It needs people willing to be decent without overthinking it.

The Stoics would call it duty. I call it being human. My kids call it obvious.

Whatever name you give it, the result is the same: a life that matters, not because you won the big accolades, but because you showed up in the small moments.

Reflection

Where in your day can you help, just because you can? Not for applause. Not for later leverage. Just because you can.

Start there.

Until next time,

Broden Johnson

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