My friend.
Is a magician.
Help.
He is a magician because he makes me do things for him.
He makes me want to go out of my way to help him.
He makes me want to invest time in him.
Thinking nothing of what I might get back from him.
And he gets all of this from me.
For free.
And I can sense him making it all happen.
Just.
Like.
Magic.
Trick.
But like all magic.
It’s a trick.
And here’s how he does it.
Whenever I see him.
He asks me if he can help me with anything.
And he means it.
He is not asking me this question so that I do anything in return for him, either.
He actually wants to help me.
That’s it.
Authenticity.
Such authenticity is rare.
There is no notion of transaction.
Or exchange of any kind.
And it is disarming.
So disarming that.
Like a virus.
His generosity towards me breeds my generosity towards him.
So the harder he tries to help me.
The harder I try to help him.
And so it goes on.
Both of us looking after each other.
Both of us looking out for each other.
Our friendship strengthening as-we-go.
Our businesses strengthening as-we-go.
And a strange glow around any work we do together, too.
Because it is layered with mutual respect.
And admiration.
Kindness.
Kindness.
Breeds kindness.
So wouldn’t it be good if everyone could weave this kind of magic.
From today.
Oh!
They can.
