Photo: Jill (L), Peggy (M), and Cheryl (R), on a Backpacking Light Ultralight Backpacking Boot Camp course in the Anaconda-Pintlar Wilderness.
Today, I decided to support a Kickstarter project. Not because it had a chic message or promised a journey of magnanimous public acclaim or was seeking funding for narcissistic acclaim, but because the woman who was proposing it was simply a customer that I came to know and appreciate while spending six days with her in the Anaconda-Pintlar Wilderness.
Her name is Cheryl McCormick and she's hiking the AT while taking pictures and writing haiku.
I funded her at a level that means a lot to her and gets a neat gift for me - a little book about her adventure that features poetry and photos.
I didn't fund her for the book, or it would have been one expensive book.
I didn't fund her for the haiku, because frankly, I don't have a lot of haiku experience (writing or reading) so can't really consider myself an aficionado, like I am of, say, coffee.
I didn't fund her because I felt that associating myself with her would advance my own self interests. I mean, c'mon, it's not like she's Andrew Skurka (sic).
I funded her because I simply wanted to say thank you to her. For being my customer, and funding me. Having faith in me, my product, and my program. And for joining a wilderness trekking school expedition in which she had a positive and meaningful impact on my other customers - the other members of my expedition.
I think sometimes we move so fast that we fail to say thank you in meaningful ways.
Your action item today: say thank you in a meaningful way to somebody.
Because it's a simple and short act of random kindness (ARK: for you Evan Almighty fans) that requires only a little self-sacrifice on your part, but can have a huge impact on others.
With an emphasis on ... simple.
thanks don't come easy
think on voids of withholding
them and issue lots.