Are people mostly kind by nature, or is the world a cold and unforgiving place filled with opps and scammers? A complicated question, but I’ll try to work through it with a story. 

Last weekend, I lost my wallet somewhere between the EVGR elevators and a friend’s apartment in San Francisco. I panicked, searched my car frantically, prayed, grieved, panicked again, forgot to freeze my credit cards, then went out on the town anyway (hey, it was my birthday!), pushing the inevitable administrative fallout to Tomorrow Me.

Within minutes of waking up hungover and sprawled across a blowup mattress, I was crossing my fingers and opening up my email in a last ditch effort to quell the growing pit in my stomach calling out, “Dude, it’s so over.”

To my pleasant surprise, “Re: Your Lost Wallet” was at the top of my inbox like a miracle from on high. I think a “Hallelujah” chorus actually played out loud, but I forgot to ask my friend if she could hear it too.

A few hours later, when the kind stranger handed my wallet to me 100% intact, I effusively expressed my gratitude and chaotically blurted out that I just had to repay them for their efforts somehow, like “bake a batch of cookies or something.” They assured me such a gift wasn’t necessary and went on their merry way into the (noon) sunset. 

Determined to keep my word anyway, I dug out my go-to recipe and all the constituent ingredients — fresh lemons, check; cornstarch, check; flour, che- hold on. I didn’t have enough flour. Of course.

Once again, I put my fate into the hands of magnanimous strangers and reached out to the building group chat to see if anyone had a bit to spare. Once again, I was helped out by a person who assured me that there was no need to repay them; they were happy just to help. Once again, I promised cookies anyway.

And spoiler alert: they were a hit! I think I’ve made two new friends (or at least, congenial acquaintances with the potential to grow), all from losing my precious personal property. 

Now, I’m not saying you should go and leave your valuables out somewhere in the hopes of making a connection. These stories don’t always work out that way, and I don’t have any advice for filing credit fraud claims. But it was so worth it to share a small token of appreciation with the people who had helped me out in a pinch, even if I didn’t technically need to. 

As I recounted my week to a particularly thoughtful friend, he asked me how it felt in my mind and my body to reach out in moments like that and choose to reflect the positivity imparted onto me back out into the world. I sat and pondered my beliefs seriously for a moment. Why had I gone apparently so out of my way to do a favor literally no one asked for? What if someone wouldn’t do the same for me?

My answer: I think of small acts of kindness like a spiritual practice or a personal evangelization, a way for me to spread the word of how I think the world should be. I was raised by people who, in their own way of trying to keep me safe, constantly harped against the ills of a cold, uncaring world that would stop at nothing to do me harm. But by spreading my wings on my own, I have found that to be, for the most part, overwhelmingly untrue. I’ve found strangers, acquaintances and friends who have gone above and beyond to show me acts of kindness big and small.

Deep down, don’t we all know that kindness begets more kindness, or at least should? Of course, there’s the odd ne’er-do-well who is all too happy to take advantage of others, and there always will be. But I don’t believe that’s my cross to bear: it’s theirs. And whether or not you believe in karma or Hell or whatever cosmic system that may or may not balance out our actions and our consequences, I don’t think it’s up to me to hold those standards for other people. I can only do me.

Call me naïve, a sucker, destined to be a mark for life. But as I collect more experiences, I find it harder and harder to bring myself to believe that most people I interact with are out to get me. It’s easy to forget in the day-to-day grind, but to be human is to crave connection. We are social animals, and that comes with a built-in propensity to connect, share with and support one another.

It’s my personal mission to convert more people to the Church of (Most) People Are Nice, Actually. I hope you’ll follow me on this quest to find and create small moments of joy and connection, even — maybe especially — when it seems an impossible task. Who knows? Maybe you, too, will start to have an eye for these moments. Maybe you, too, will one day testify to the masses.