Sprinkle it forward

Have you ever paused to think about the cost of kindness? Is it truly free, or does it run a little deeper?

At its core, kindness is free. Our elders say, “libre maging mabait” (it costs nothing to be kind). But, its value extends beyond time or effort.

As kids, we learned that kindness was as simple as saying “please” or “thank you” or offering a sincere apology. These “magic words” were the foundation of shared joys and challenges. Magic words—though small—are powerful reminders that goodness doesn’t come with a price tag. Zero pesos, no hidden fees.

As we grew older, the world felt less gentle, but kindness still works the same way—and maybe even more powerful now when the world often feels cold.

Let’s dig deeper. If kindness is free, what about love? Love fills, heals, and brings meaning to even the smallest things—and it costs nothing, too. Sure, it takes vulnerability and courage, but it won’t make us weaker. It makes us more human, more real. What’s stopping us?

Perhaps, fear.

Fear of rejection, of trusting, of being vulnerable. Maybe we’ve been hurt before and are afraid to try again. Or we’re so caught up in our struggles that we miss opportunities, convincing ourselves the world is too harsh for something so good. We tell ourselves we’ve tried before, so we close off, protecting our hearts from the pain of trying again.

You see, kindness, love, and trust demand effort. They challenge us not to give up on the world, others, or ourselves. In a generation where social media shapes who we should be and how we should feel, navigating endless cues and expectations can feel exhausting. That’s hard.

I know this firsthand—someone who spent an entire week in bed, isolated because life didn’t go my way; someone who locked herself away from the people who only wanted to hear from her; someone who ignored even the most sincere gestures simply because she didn’t want to feel indebted.

Loving others felt like holding onto something uncontrollable, with the added pressure of needing to reciprocate. Trusting others was the hardest part, especially when you’ve always relied on yourself and hesitated to ask for help.

But acts of kindness—seeing me in my moment of unease—reminded me that even when we don’t ask for help, someone may offer it. Kindness doesn’t have to come from those we know. It can be an unspoken understanding, a quiet acknowledgment.

I’ve come to realize that kindness, love, and trust are also among the things that can’t just be taken away. A kind word spoken last week may still echo in someone’s heart today. A loving note, no matter how short, could be someone’s lifeline when they feel like giving up. And even when trust is broken, there’s always that small, lingering hope that things can be mended, that we can return to how it was before.

Kind gestures don’t disappear; they linger and inspire. They ripple through time in ways we may never see, but they’re there.

And those who give kindness freely? For sure, they weren’t always givers. Many were once the ones who needed it most. They were broken by heartbreak, weighed down by grief, or lost in loneliness. But when the world gave them kindness, it saved them.

Sometimes, the challenges we face are beyond our control, and the weight feels unbearable. But when we’ve carried a heavy burden, we’re more likely to understand how to help others carry theirs. It’s not about blaming the world more for its hardships; it’s about choosing to move forward and lighten the load whenever and however we can.

Life doesn’t have to be cruel. Or even if it is, we don’t have to be. When we choose to be gentle, we create space for healing—even for the toughest hearts. Even with our toughest hearts.

Kind gestures are like sprinkles of light. You don’t always see where it lands, but it can brighten someone’s day. You can’t always measure their effects, but that doesn’t make them any less meaningful. Kindness is like quiet magic, floating invisibly through the world, creating warmth in unexpected places.

Sure, life gets busy, and we juggle responsibilities. But acts of kindness don’t take much time. Change starts small. Greet the street vendors—it could change their day. Say “salamat po” when you get off the jeepney, even if the driver doesn’t hear. Greet your “ates” and “kuyas” at work. These moments may seem fleeting, but noticing—and acting on them—plants seeds of change. Who knows? Maybe those acts will snowball into something greater, lightening the weight of the world, one good thing at a time.