What does it mean to be a good person?
Good heavens, if I knew the definitive answer to that one, I’d probably be touring the country giving lectures.
Although I’d insist on decent tea at every venue. One must have standards.
I’ve met people who could quote chapter and verse about goodness, kindness, and how everybody ought to behave.
And I’ve met people who never said very much about any of those things, but somehow made the world feel a little kinder simply by being in it.
I know which sort I’d rather sit beside.
You see, I don’t think being a good person means being perfect.
If it did, we’d all be in rather serious trouble.
We get things wrong. We lose our tempers. We make assumptions about people without knowing the whole story. Sometimes we say something unkind because we’re having a difficult day, and sometimes we discover that we were the ones who needed to apologise.
That’s part of being human.
Perhaps the question isn’t whether we’ve ever done something wrong.
Perhaps it’s what we do when we realise we have.
Can we admit it?
Can we apologise without adding a little speech about why it wasn’t really our fault?
Can we try to do better next time?
I think goodness lives in those moments.
It lives in the way we treat somebody who cannot do anything for us.
In whether we make room at the table for someone who looks uncomfortable standing by the door.
In whether we join the laughter when somebody is being ridiculed, or decide that perhaps this isn’t the sort of company we want to keep.
It lives in the small choices we make when nobody is watching.
And I think there’s something else we ought to remember.
We’re all dealt different cards.
Some people begin life with advantages others can barely imagine. Some carry burdens we know nothing about. We don’t all start from the same place, and we don’t all have the same opportunities to make things right.
Which is precisely why I’m wary of judging an entire person by a single moment.
That doesn’t mean we excuse cruelty or pretend harmful behaviour doesn’t matter.
It means we can hold someone accountable without deciding that their worst moment is the entirety of who they are.
And we can be kind without allowing ourselves to be mistreated.
Goodness isn’t the same as being a doormat, darling. A welcome mat is lovely, but even that has its limits.
So, what does it mean to be a good person?
I think it means trying to leave people with a little more dignity than they had when you found them.
It means being honest when dishonesty would be easier.
It means standing up for someone when staying quiet would be more comfortable.
It means being willing to learn, to change your mind, and to admit that sometimes the pillock in the room was you.
And perhaps, above all, it means remembering that the people around us are living entire lives we know very little about.
Every one of them has their own cards.
Their own backpack.
Their own story.
We don’t have to agree with everyone. We don’t have to like everyone. We certainly don’t have to invite everyone into our homes.
But we can choose not to make somebody else’s journey harder simply because we can.
I don’t believe goodness requires grand gestures or a halo above your head.
Sometimes it looks like speaking up.
Sometimes it looks like listening.
Sometimes it means walking away.
And sometimes it’s as simple as noticing the person nobody else has noticed and saying:
”Come sit with us.”
I rather like that as a starting point.
Not perfection.
Not applause.
Just the quiet business of trying to do a little better with the cards we’ve been dealt, while making room for the people playing beside us.
Because when all is said and done, darling, I suspect we will be remembered less for how often we told the world we were good people, and more for how people felt when they were around us.
And that seems a rather decent place to begin.
Stay Fabulous,
Luce 💋
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