Compliments Are Free

I was sitting at my kitchen counter this morning. Like most Mondays, I’d scanned my inbox with a cup of coffee in hand.

Plenty of the names were familiar, but there were a few notable ones missing.

So, after refilling my coffee, I went looking for them, since these were writers I’d wanted to hear from. “Maybe I missed their latest?” I’d wondered while checking the spam folder. Nothing. Well, nothing from them anyway… but plenty of other junk.

Growing concerned, I’d searched and clicked through to their page from an old newsletter. Scrolling, I’d sat back and let out a sigh. What I saw made me sad: they’d dropped off. No new posts, no explanation. It’d been weeks since hearing from someone who’d published reliably for as long as I’d been subscribed. Which got me thinking, “who else haven’t I heard from lately?” Turns out, quite a few people.

Sitting back and taking a sip of coffee, I speculated as to why they might’ve stopped writing. It could be anything—life got in the way, they stopped liking what they were doing, they were just taking a break, something happened in their personal life…

"Or", I'd thought, "maybe, they’d felt under appreciated?"

I wondered if they knew people like me went looking for them? Then I kicked myself for not telling them how much I liked their work.

It was a good reminder to hand out compliments freely, so long as they're genuine. I've been so caught up in what I'm working on with Becoming Unobstructed, BUDS, and The Map Year Project that I think I've had a bit of tunnel vision when it comes to where I direct my attention. Ok, a lot of tunnel vision...

In a weird way, I'm grateful for the nudge brought about by this writer's absence. I have some calls to return, texts to reply to, and overdue coffee catch-ups to enjoy.  But if you, like me, need the reminder: tell people when you like what they create. Compliments are free! They don't have to be a grand gestures, either.

Otherwise, you might just find yourself at your kitchen counter one Monday morning, staring blankly into a cup of coffee. And you’ll wonder why the name you wanted to see in your inbox wasn't there like you’d hoped it would be.

onward.

-dmac