The Courage to Care Out Loud

| May 2026

4 minute read

What if a single moment of caring out loud can strengthen your brain circuitry and deepen our capacity to flourish?

It happened to me on an ordinary morning. I was at the bottom of my driveway, about to pull away, when I noticed my postman making his way up the street. It had been a while since we’d seen each other and the moment moved me to stop.

I rolled down my window. He walked over to say hello. We fell easily into conversation — the kind that moves naturally from one thing to the next: family, children growing up, work. I shared that I am becoming a grandmother in August. He returned with a compliment.

We talked. We laughed a little. And in that beautiful exchange — unhurried, unscripted, and entirely natural — we caught each other up on the chapters of our lives that had unfolded in the time between.

He turned to make his way back to his mail vehicle. And then he stopped. He came back to my window, looked at me squarely between four eyes, and said:

“I appreciate you more than you know.”

He went on his way.

I sat still for several minutes. Deeply, deeply touched. Letting the preciousness of the moment wash over me.

What struck me most was the postman’s willingness to bring his full attention to me. Both of us slowing down enough to notice, to stop, and to share the stories that shape our respective lives.

These are the subtle experiences that make my heart sing. When two people meet fully, and know it. His generous act of connection reminds us of the benefit a genuine human exchange can have on our well-being, and even change the texture of a day.

As I sit with this experience, I am aware that Mother’s Day is just around the corner. And I find myself thinking about all the people in our lives — our mothers, our grandmothers, our caregivers, the aunts, the neighbors — and the ways they have shown up for us. And this is what I keep returning to: the most powerful gift one human being can give another is the basic goodness and compassion that already exist within us.

If this story moved you, you may also want to read A Little Bit of Goodness, Ours to Do Together — a reflection on the small acts of care that ripple further than we know.

Science, it turns out, agrees. Neuroscientist Richard Davidson, founder of the Center for Healthy Minds at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, has spent decades asking one central question: what does it actually mean to flourish? In his newly released book Born to Flourish, co-authored with Cortland Dahl and published just this March, Davidson brings together decades of brain research and ancient contemplative wisdom to arrive at something radical:

Flourishing is not a personality trait you are born with or without. It is a skill. One that can be trained, practiced, and deepened at any age.

And here is something that may change the way you show up in the world: Davidson’s research tells us that we are not creating these qualities from scratch. Humans are born to be kind. Not as a hopeful idea, but as a biological fact, observable in infants in the first six months of life, who already show a clear preference for warmth over indifference. Practice simply wakes it up and keeps it alive.

If this reflection resonates, consider Theo’s micro meditation on Our Shared Humanity, where the practice is experienced in real time.

Connection, he argues, is not soft science. It is rooted in measurable neural circuits that exhibit plasticity, meaning the more we practice genuine warmth and kindness toward others, the more those circuits strengthen.

My postman may not have read a neuroscience book. And neither of us needed a calendar invite. We simply showed up. Present and unhurried. In this open-hearted and caring exchange, he gave me a gift I am still sitting with.

Which leads me to wonder. As Mother’s Day arrives this month, let us think of one person who has shown up in our lives. Bring this awareness into your body and reflect on the person who has nurtured you from a sense of generosity and warm heartedness. Connect with what is true to you and, if you feel moved to, say it out loud. We may never know how much it means. But they will.

And to you, my reader — I don’t always know who you are or what you’re carrying as you read this. And I hold you in my heart as part of our shared humanity. Thank you for the gift of your generous attention, and for trusting me with a few minutes of your precious day. I appreciate you.

Truly.

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