The Closest Thing to a Cheat Code for Life

What if the secret to life wasn’t something you achieve, but something you give away?

Kids,

This past month, I’ve technically been homeless. But not, like, cool movie montage homeless where I find myself on a soul-searching road trip with a wise trucker named Gus. More like the “I’ve been living out of a duffel bag, my diet consists of gas station protein bars, and I haven’t spent more than four days in the same place” kind of homeless.

I’ve said goodbye to a place I called home for 16 months. I’ve been homeless again (some people call it “camping in Moab with Mark and Henry,” but if you’re sleeping on rocks and your bathroom is a hole you dug yourself, let’s just be real—it’s just homelessness with a sunset).

I’ve laughed. I’ve cried. I’ve sat in my car on random streets, staring at the windshield like it had a secret message waiting to be decoded. But no matter how many times I turned up the music, turned it down again, or stared harder, life refused to leave me a Post-it Note.

But through all of it, here’s what I keep coming back to:

The way you treat people is the only thing that really matters.

Not in a "be nice because it’s the right thing to do" kind of way. Not in the way your second-grade teacher told you to share your crayons or the way inspirational posters tell you to "throw kindness around like confetti" (which, if we’re being honest, sounds like a nightmare for whoever has to clean it up).

I mean in a this is the closest thing to a cheat code for life kind of way.

Because here’s what no one tells you:

If people like how they feel about themselves when they’re around you, your life will be better.

Not because you’re people-pleasing. Not because you’re bending over backward to be liked. But because when you make people feel seen, when you create space for them to feel good in your presence, something wild happens—you start feeling good too.

Your stress doesn’t vanish, but it softens. Your pressure doesn’t disappear, but it quiets down. The noise, the doubt, the existential “What am I even doing with my life?”—it all fades into the background because your focus isn’t stuck inside your own head anymore.

And you know how I know this?

Because I forget it constantly.

This past month, I’ve met a ton of people. I’ve been in more places than a lost dog with a bad sense of direction. I’ve started over, walked into new rooms, met strangers who might become friends or just be another passing moment in the story.

And every single time I’ve gotten caught up in me—my goals, my stress, my future—I’ve felt alone.

But the moments I’ve looked outward? The moments I’ve noticed someone’s quirks, appreciated their ridiculous stories, or stopped to admire the strangely specific thing they’re really good at? That’s when I stopped feeling lost.

And here’s the funny thing about all that striving, all that chasing after what’s next:

The best moments of my life weren’t when I achieved something massive. They weren’t when I hit a milestone, got something exactly right, or finally had the perfect plan.

They were the moments where I got completely lost in a conversation with someone I cared about. The times I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. The little, unexpected, stupidly beautiful moments where connection made everything lighter.

You could spend your whole life reading books, listening to podcasts, chasing self-improvement like it’s the secret to happiness. Or—you could spend five minutes with a five-year-old sitting on the floor with their mom and realize—oh, this is peace.

Nothing demonstrates the power of connection like a little kid.

They don’t overthink their words. They don’t strategize their relationships. They don’t wonder if they’re networking efficiently.

They just run up to you, holding out a rock they found, and say, "This is my favorite rock. Do you want to see it?"

That’s it. That’s the whole game.

They’re not trying to be important. They’re not calculating their worth. They’re just there. Fully in the moment. And without even realizing it, they pull you into it with them.

And somehow, for just a second, everything makes sense.

There are no hacks to life.

But if there were, this would be it.

And yet—I still mess this up.

Because being present with people requires effort. It’s easier to stay in my own head, in my own stress, cycling through the same thoughts and worries like a browser with 47 tabs open, half of them frozen.

There are times I’m short with people when I didn’t have to be.

Times I choose being funny over being kind (which, as a lifelong lover of well-timed sarcasm, is a real Achilles’ heel).

Times I wake up and realize I spent an entire day obsessing over things that didn’t actually matter.

And that stings.

Because kindness isn’t just a moral checkbox.

It’s how you find light when the world feels dark.

Not just for other people.

For you.

And this week? Man, this week, I had one of those days.

I was still unpacking. Bills were due. I don’t have any friends in this city yet. Work needed more from me than I wanted to give. Spiritually, I felt drained. And—to top it off—I had a rash. And a gash. And the measles. And the mumps. And in the words of Shel Silverstein, "I did not want to go to school that day."

Except I don’t go to school. And I work remotely. So it looked less like a tragic school refusal and more like me sitting at my desk in my pajamas, dramatically staring into the void while questioning my existence.

So I called a friend. I didn’t spill everything. I just said, "Man, today is rough, but I know it’ll get better."

And all he said was:

“For what it’s worth, this dragging feeling you have—people get past it.”

It wasn’t an inspirational speech. He didn’t hit me with a "Just grind harder, bro." or "Have you tried meditating and drinking more water?" He didn’t throw a bunch of Pinterest wisdom at me.

That simple moment—just being heard—made my whole day lighter.

The light of connection makes life brighter. And real connection? It starts with kindness.

So if you ever feel like the walls are closing in, and you don’t know what to do next—choose kindness.

Not because you should. Not because it’s the noble thing to do, or because the world desperately needs more good people (even though it does). Choose kindness because it works.

The weight of the world is lighter when you lift someone else’s.

Because when everything feels heavy—when life is pushing down on your chest like a weighted blanket, but not the good kind, more like the “I made a mistake buying this and now I live in a fabric coffin” kind—kindness is the only thing that pulls you out.

And if you feel like you haven’t been kind enough? If you’ve had one of those days, or weeks, or months where you look back and think, Man, I could have done better—start with yourself.

Maybe you binge-ate your way through a rough day. Maybe you ghosted your own friends because you just didn’t have the energy to engage. Maybe you got impatient with someone who didn’t deserve it. Maybe you scrolled through Instagram for two straight hours, hating everyone’s perfect highlight reel, only to realize later that you weren’t mad at them—you were just sad about you.

That’s not failure.

That’s just a signal.

A sign that some part of you is hurting. That some part of you needs attention, love, and a little bit of grace.

So give yourself that love.

Not in a “Go take a bubble bath and buy an expensive candle” kind of way—although if that helps, soak yourself like a teabag and let it burn, baby. I mean in the way you’d treat a friend if they were going through it. You wouldn’t sit them down and say, "Wow, you really screwed this up. I can’t believe you ate an entire frozen pizza at 2 AM like some kind of emotionally unstable raccoon." No. You’d say, "Hey, I get it. You were just trying to cope. Let’s figure out how to do better tomorrow."

Why is it so much harder to be that kind to ourselves?

Be kind, not just to others, but to the version of you that’s struggling. The version of you that messed up. The version of you that doesn’t know how to fix it yet.

Because the truth is—you don’t need fixing.

You’re not broken. You’re just learning.

And if you want to learn faster, if you want to feel lighter, if you want to get out of your own head—focus outward. Look around. Find someone who needs kindness and give it away freely.

Because here’s the secret: kindness is the only thing you can give away and somehow end up with more of.

So, when you don’t know what to do next—start there.

Show grace. Show curiosity. Show healing.

Those things will lift you up when everything else is pulling you down.

Because, in the end, it’s never about having the perfect plan. It’s never about getting everything right, or avoiding mistakes, or making sure people think you’ve got it all together.

It’s about connection.

It’s about people.

It’s about love moving through you in ways that you don’t even fully understand yet.

And the best thing about kindness?

You don’t have to wait for permission. You don’t have to wait until you’re in the right mood. You don’t have to wait until you feel like being kind.

You can start right now.

Right now.

You, my ridiculous, incredible, messy, glorious humans—

One last thing.

Someday, when you're sitting in your car, hands on the wheel but no real direction, staring at your windshield, wondering what the hell you're doing with your life, I hope you remember this—

You are not lost.

You are exactly where you need to be, learning what you need to learn.

You are enough. Right now.

And the world needs your light.

Go be awesome.