Over the past few weeks, I have seen humanity's worst and best. And what is the critical difference between these human beings? What is the fundamental difference that makes them the way they are, and how can we be more human to create a better world?
While travelling in Europe, we experienced the worst. People pushed and shoved me into buses on a rainy day, so much so that they were willing to push me into the gutter while I was holding Amelia to get on before me—even though I was standing right in front of the opening doors. The anger, frustration, and meanness of the people on the bus were palpable. The young and capable weren't offering seats to those in need, and everyone was pushing and shoving. We had just come from the place of dreams—Disneyland Paris! Weren't we meant to be filled with hope and joy? I know the rain was terrible, and we all struggled, but people forget how to act when something is offered as a gesture of goodwill, like the free shuttle bus. Suddenly, it becomes a sense of entitlement—"It's my right to board this free bus"—and everyone forgets how to act with kindness and basic humanity. How can we, as a species, behave so poorly over something we are fortunate to experience? These are first-world problems, people!
When we got off and into our hotel lift, another family asked if we had been on the same bus. They, too, felt exhausted by the experience and were so relieved to be away from it all. We both had a small child, and my heart sank as I realised this was the world we were offering them—a world filled with meanness, self-centred behaviour, and cruelty.
The next day, one of my worst fears came true. Amelia exited the swimming pool, ran towards her daddy, and slipped. She fell hard, hitting her head with a loud thump on the tiles. I can still see her falling—almost in slow motion, yet I couldn't stop her as I was still in the pool. Seeing my daughter so lifeless in Jorge's arms still haunts me. In the panic, I remember asking the main receptionist to bring ice to the pool area to reduce the swelling on her head. Their reply? "No, you have to come upstairs for that." I mean, what? If it weren't for a guest, who happened to be a nurse, offering to get some ice, I think I would have exploded.
I only wanted to get to the hospital when the taxi finally arrived. The driver restored our faith in humanity—he was accommodating and calming. He even went out of his way to come inside the hospital and explain everything to the nurse. He recommended our options, knowing we had a flight in five hours.
By the time we returned to the UK, we rushed back to the hospital as Amelia started vomiting. Amid our panic and worry, we met the most incredible doctor. This lovely Scottish man made us feel so comfortable. He chatted with Amelia with genuine kindness, even though she couldn't understand his accent—she just giggled. He listened to us patiently, explaining everything and all our options. By the time she vomited again, he had already ordered a CT scan. He stayed with us until the end of his shift at midnight, constantly reassuring us, checking in, and being such a kind soul. He made the world feel right again.
The past week was a whirlwind of emotions for all of us. The CT scan was clear, and our ray of sunshine is back—bright, cheeky, and bubbly again. I've been reflecting on the different interactions we experienced, trying to understand the key differences between the people we met. What separates those who only focus on themselves from those who genuinely care about others?
Now, I am no saint. I have been, and can still be, a self-focused person. But what is the fundamental difference? What separates us when we are selfish and focused only on our comforts from when we can think of others? I know we can all do both, but what allows some people to offer kindness in times of chaos, like the stranger who helped get ice for my child, while others remain indifferent?
In moments of self-focus, our internal mirrors are facing inward. What do I mean by this? It's as if we cannot look out and truly see the world or understand what it's feeling. We become blinkered, fixated on our needs, wants, and desires, utterly oblivious to what is happening around us. It's all "me, me, me" and nothing else. Our problems and needs are the biggest, and we forget the world outside.
When our internal mirrors face inward, we don't notice that other people might need help. We are so wrapped up in our own thoughts and feelings that we forget other humans exist.
So, how do we stop this internal mirroring? The answer lies in learning to swivel our mirrors. Sometimes, we need our mirrors to face inward to check in with our behaviours and actions, heal, and reset our values. But most of the time, we should learn to turn our mirrors outward—to look at the world around us, see those we love, listen to what the world needs, and be present.
The minute I turn my internal mirrors outwards, I notice my internal chatter quietens because it's no longer about me! I start to reconnect with those around me, to love and understand them. I feel more gratitude for the simple things, patience, and awareness of what's happening in the world. It's a more straightforward, more beautiful place to be.
Isn't it funny? Looking out into the world and being a part of it is easier than being stuck in your own head. When we're trapped in our thoughts, we twist our perceptions, obsess over small things, fixate on the unnecessary, and lose any form of gratitude or peace. When our mirrors are always facing inward, the noise inside gets louder.
We were never meant to be so self-consumed as humans. But something has made us this way. Is it social influence? The fact that we're all 'so busy' that we don't have time to think of anyone else? We often hear "self-care first" and forget what that means. It doesn't mean just thinking of yourself—let me be clear if you were wondering! It means ensuring your heart, head, and soul are aligned and in a good place and then turning to the world to love it.
But we get stuck in ourselves first and need to remember to turn.
We often hear it—if the world were just a little kinder, imagine what a difference that would make. I think back to the bus: if only people had offered their seats to those in need, if someone had seen another human struggling and, instead of pushing them aside, helped them. If we just created small acts of kindness each day, I know that our hearts would be fuller, we would feel more peaceful, and we would be more understanding and patient. That sounds like a world I want my daughter to grow up in.
So, how do we create this change? It starts with us. If every human makes a small act of kindness daily, it spreads and multiplies—kindness creates kindness! So, this week, I will focus on ensuring my mirrors are turned outwards. How do you know when they are? You'll feel a sense of peace, clarity, and kindness, and your inner chatter will quieten because it's no longer self-focused. When we think that internal chatter turns into noise, frustration, or anger again, we must check in: Are our mirrors facing inwards or outwards? We all know how we want them to face, right?
So, here's the challenge… Take a moment to swivel those mirrors, to reflect less on your inner noise and more on the world outside.
Perhaps the peace we seek isn't hidden within ourselves but in the connections we build when we look outward. In turning our mirrors out, we invite compassion, empathy, and love back into the world—maybe that's where we find ourselves.