Smile.. I dare you!

My Monday morning walk. After a couple of weeks away from my usual routine, I laced up my shoes and stepped out like... okay then. Turns out, I forgot how fucking good this is.

The air was crisp. The mighty Murray River was swollen and moving like it had somewhere to be. Birds were doing their loud little choir routine. And the sun was doing that early-day thing where everything looks slightly less hostile.

But the first thing I noticed wasn't the scenery...

... it was the smiles.

Not the Instagram kind. Not the performative "look at me being fucking fine" kind.

Real, quick, human acknowledgement as people pass. That tiny human moment when someone sees you and, without a speech, chooses to be decent for the next few seconds.

Runners. Cyclists. Dog walkers. People on walking frames. Everyone passing with the same basic choreography: look up, soften, move on.

Some mornings someone smiles first. Some mornings you even get a "good morning" like a tiny package delivered straight to your nervous system.

And some mornings... nothing. No smile back. No words.

Just two people doing their own thing while the world keeps turning.

The practice isn't about receiving.

It's about offering.

We live in a world that can feel tense, brittle, and weirdly hostile. Even when we're surrounded by people, we move like we're bracing for impact. We scroll. We multitask. We keep our emotional distance. As if everyone's just one small inconvenience away from losing their fucking shit.

Then you step outside and the whole thing gets clearer.

You're not just watching life happen. You're in it.

A smile is cheap.

It doesn't fix your situation, or pay the bills.

It doesn't undo hard stuff. It doesn't erase grief.

But it does one very practical thing...

... it breaks the loop.

For a second, you're not trapped in your story. You're in the world. With other people. For a moment, you stop treating the world like an enemy.

I don't know if it's the river, or the fact we're sharing the same stretch of Earth. Or maybe it's just morning. Morning makes people slower. More visible. More human.

Either way, being outside makes it easier to be present. Easier to look up. Easier to notice other people as people, not obstacles.

And once you actually notice them, you can't un-notice them. You can't stay fully committed to the angry, doom-spiral version of yourself. Not forever. But long enough to feel your feet on the ground again.

After those couple of weeks away, something felt off. Not dramatic. Not tragic.

Not "everything is falling apart" off.

Just… lighter in the wrong way. Like I'd misplaced something important and kept walking past it. I couldn't name it until I hit the boardwalk.

Until the first smile.

Until that first quick exchange of eye contact.

Like, oh... that's what was missing.

Not some grand spiritual insight. Just a reminder that I'm human. Other people are human. Everyone's just improvising.

Some days you're improvising with grace.

Some days you're improvising with fucking duct tape.

Either way, you're still here.

The one thing that really stood out...

.. nobody was hiding behind a screen. No one was retreating into a device to avoid eye contact.

We were looking at the same sky. Sharing the same morning light. Meeting each other's gaze like we meant it.

Not like we were trying to be charming. Like we were acknowledging reality.

And in that tiny pocket of time, the smile matters.

Not because it proves you're a good person.

Not because you're trying to earn approval.

Because it's practice.

The Buddhist term for this is... metta

(I know... and I'm sure they would've trademarked that fucker thousands of years ago if they knew it would one day be distorted and misused by big tech!)

Metta is simply, goodwill. Warmth you offer with genuine intent.

Not a transaction. Not a negotiation.

It's kindness without scorekeeping.

Your job is not to manage their face. Your job is to practice your own.

If you get a smile back, great. You just received something free.

If you don't? Also fucking great.

The act still steadies you. It nudges you out of your own story and back into the real world.

Give them the smallest possible version of yourself. Not the big cheesy grin. Not the customer-service smile. Just a softened face and a look that says: I see you as a person.

You don't have to feel amazing to be decent. You don't have to be healed to offer kindness. You don't have to be spiritual or enlightened or perfectly fucking regulated. You just have to show your face for a second, and let someone else feel seen.

Then let it go.

And here's a weird truth: the more you practice without demanding a return, the easier it gets to show up even on rough days.

Not because life gets nicer.

Because you stop needing it to be.

I'm not saying it's magic. I'm saying it works.

So next time you're walking... river, park, street, wherever...

look up..

.. and smile. I dare you.

Because metta isn't about being rewarded.

It's about being the kind of human you can live with.

And doing the small, unglamorous things that quietly connect us.

Peace, Love, and Profanities