Chris Compton - @twainingwheels | Kingsley Asuamah
Life From Different Perspectives: Do Something Nice Every Day
Part 7 of 20: Random acts of kindness benefit both giver and receiver
This article is part of a series of articles written from the perspectives of two very different minds.
My name is Chris Compton. I am a 59-year-old American living in Atlanta, GA. I am writing about the 20 self-improvement facts in this article:
The article’s author, Kingsley Asuamah, is a 36-year-old Nigerian living in Ireland. He is writing about the same topics.
You can follow along and see how two strangers, separated by age, geography, and circumstance, view the world and the opportunity to develop as human beings.
Is This All Just a Happy Accident?
I don’t know why we’re here. My belief system is a moving target, a daily special, a foggy dream trying to survive a summer breeze. The universe is too perfect to have simply floated together, as if a god-child dumped an unassembled jigsaw puzzle into the bathtub and we just floated into all of this, and too cruel to have been purposefully constructed and carefully managed by a benevolent god equating herself with Love.
Recently, I have leaned strongly in the direction of ‘it just doesn’t matter’ why we are here. What matters is that we are here, all of us, together in this leaky boat in the corner of an ocean so vast our tiny little minds can’t begin to comprehend it.
I was a shitty sailor, but I am a hell of a shipmate. I love everyone. I don’t think any of the 100 billion or so humans that have inhabited the rock you are floating on is better than any other. I don’t believe any of us are important. But I do believe we are important in the collective.
Boiling Down the “Y”
“The Big Why.”
If you follow the self-improvement guru train, you know how important the big why is. Without the why, the what doesn’t matter, and there ain’t no need to talk about the how. Or at least that’s the way I would put it.
If life has no special purpose, if it is simply to be lived, how do we prioritize our actions? For me, the answer seems clear: Do things that amuse me without damaging the species and things that make the world a better place. This is a deep topic, and we can’t go nuts here, but helping fellow earthlings trips my trigger AND makes the world a better place.
I’m no saint, and heaven knows I went through a long period in my life where I was a bit of a douchebag, but to misquote Jules Winnfield, “I’m trying real hard to become a shepherd.”
I Met Mike for the First and Only Time Two Years Ago
I was getting tired. Both legs had shown signs of impending cramps for over an hour, and the rain had just started for the third time that day. I was pedaling south on A1A from Jacksonville to St. Augustine on the first day of what would be a nine-day trek across the state.
In the distance, I could see a fellow bicyclist approaching from the south. He was impossibly tall, I thought. Andre the Giant reincarnate was heading my way on two wheels! As the gap closed, I realized the biker was neither enormous nor a biker. It was a pedestrian with a full-sized frame pack plodding up the side of the road.
His name was Mike. He was walking to Maine. Yeah, that Maine. We stood in the drizzle for a few minutes, and he told me that more than a decade before, he had gotten himself into a “tough spot” and decided to go for a long walk. He was still walking.
He walked north in the spring and south when the cooler weather arrived.
We had a nice chat, and he seemed quite happy. As the rain picked up, I said I needed to get moving. Hours stood between St. Augustine and me, and I needed some water and something for my cramps. He hadn’t asked me for anything, but I felt compelled to be part of his story. I knew that he would always be part of mine.
I fished a bill from my saddle bag and handed it to him. “Take care of yourself.” He thanked me, and I pedaled south. After a minute or so, I stopped and looked back. I watched him slowly move away from me, the late afternoon sun casting a long shadow that may have reached the edge of the Atlantic Ocean.
Two Years Later, He’s Still With Me
What’s the difference between a memory and a dream or a thought? Not much, in my opinion.
I’ve woken from dreams where someone was chasing me with my arms and legs thrashing under the covers as I tried to run away, a scream in my throat, clawing its way up my tongue in an effort to greet the night. I’ve had fantasies so real I was shocked when I opened my eyes to the disappointment of the past. The imagination is a powerful thing.
Two years from my one and only encounter with Mike I still remember. I recall our conversation, but I also know what the rain felt like and how exciting it was to meet a nomad, a human being just like me with the guts to say “fuck it” and go for a long walk.
I’m sure that Mike was happy, maybe even ecstatic, to score $100 that early in his hike, but I can’t begin to put a price on the experience from my perspective. I was part of an adventure not of my own choosing. I connected with a fellow traveler and sent him on his way with heartfelt good wishes and some beans to get him through the night.
I don’t know what Mike’s state of mind was before our brief encounter, but I am sure he headed toward Jacksonville with at least a hint of some pep in his step and a good feeling about the people of the planet. I get to carry the joy of my tiny contribution as far as my memory will let me, and now I share it with you. It may live forever.
“There seems to be a trend that I have noticed. It seems the more peace and love I wish on others the more peace and love come to me. ” ― Germany Kent
It’s Not About the Money
I hesitated to share this example because of the money component. Good deeds shouldn’t be measured in rubles, a wise man may have said. My gift to Mike was peace of mind, acceptance, and love. The money was simply more impactful in Mike’s hands than it would have been in mine.
I do my best to smile and greet everyone I see. I hold doors open when the opportunity presents itself. I look for chances to help with anything that isn’t dangerous, and if confronted with danger, I would at least encourage everyone to run alongside me.
Every smile, compliment, encouraging word, or hint of assistance I deliver makes my life better. I’m telling myself a story of a generous man who loves his neighbors and wants to make the world a better place and then reinforcing the message through my actions.
Often, I get an immediate reward, whether it’s a smile or a thank you. Sometimes, I get a nod, and occasionally, I get shut out altogether. It doesn’t matter. I have no expectations. I feel more like my vision of myself. I’ve made the world kinder. I’ve made someone’s day the slightest bit pleasanter.
That delights me.
But I will not help anyone move.
If this story resonates, leave a comment. Thanks for reading!
Chris Compton
03–21–2024