A Surplus of Spirit

If I could choose one aim for my life, one pursuit to orient myself toward—regardless of success, status, or recognition—it would be this:

To build a surplus. Not of wealth or status, but of spirit.

A surplus of love. Of optimism. Of presence. Of reliability. A surplus of stillness and strength, forged quietly and given freely. I want to leave every room a little brighter than it was when I entered. I want to be the person people count on—not out of obligation, but because they know I show up full, with something to offer.

This idea has lived in me for a long time, though I didn’t always have the words for it. It is the compass I return to—especially in times when the world feels disjointed, divided, and drained. And it starts with a question so simple, it’s almost easy to miss:

Do I give more than I take?

It’s a question of contribution. Of intentionality. Of character. It’s not about being a martyr or denying your own needs. It’s not about living empty or suppressing your joy. Quite the opposite.

It’s about choosing, when you can, to give.
To create.
To serve.
To leave others with more than they had before you crossed paths.

At the societal level, this question echoes across every profession, every community, every system we participate in. Are you someone who adds value? Are you lifting others up, building bridges, paying forward your privileges and opportunities? Or are you quietly consuming the benefits of others’ surplus, without ever considering your role in the larger ecosystem?

There is no shame in needing help. We all need help. That’s what it means to be human. But there’s something deeply honorable about aspiring to be the one who helps—when you can. About reaching a place in life where you don’t just survive—you generate. You sustain others through your presence, your words, your steadiness. You become a well that others can drink from.

That’s what a surplus of spirit looks like.

And it’s just as vital in the micro—especially in our relationships.

Whether in a friendship, a marriage, a team, or a casual encounter, the currency of life is energy. Attention. Encouragement. Truth. Grace. And whether we realize it or not, we are always in exchange with one another. Some people are takers. Some are indifferent. Some only give when they know it will be returned.

But then there are the rare few who give, even when it’s not reciprocated. Who offer a smile, even in silence. Who stay when it’s hard. Who reach out without being asked. Who bring hope into hopeless places and never ask for credit.

That’s who I want to be.

That’s the life I want to lead. One where I show up not for recognition, but because I have something real to offer. Something good. Something cultivated through years of inner work, discipline, pain, joy, resilience, and grace. A surplus that can’t be bought or measured, but that changes people when they feel it.

I don’t always succeed. I have my days. I get tired, too. I get impatient. I get discouraged. But I keep coming back to the vision of that life—a life of spiritual surplus. Because when I imagine the best version of myself, that’s who he is. Not rich, not powerful, not perfect. But full. Full of the kind of energy this world needs more of.

And here's the beautiful truth:
The more you give of your spirit, the more it grows.
This is not subtraction—it’s expansion.
Your light doesn’t dim by lighting someone else’s candle.
It multiplies. It spreads. It radiates outward.

And the world needs that light right now. You can feel it. People are tired. Distracted. Divided. Skeptical. Lost in their own loops of worry, fear, and survival. We are a species with infinite potential, and yet so many of us are running on empty.

But imagine a world where more people—just a few more—chose to build a surplus of spirit and give it away freely. Where more people asked, “What can I give today?” instead of “What can I get?” Where kindness wasn’t a random act, but a regular habit. Where the measure of success wasn’t what we accumulated, but what we left behind in others.

This is the world I want to live in. This is the world I want to help build.

So here is my quiet pledge, to myself and to anyone who needs to hear it:

I will keep showing up. I will keep giving. I will keep building my surplus—not of wealth or followers or acclaim—but of love, courage, humility, and joy. I will offer my spirit as often and as freely as I can.

Because in the end, that’s the kind of life I want to be remembered for.
Not a life that took.
But a life that gave.

A life that left the world—its people, its places, its moments—a little more whole.

A life built on a surplus of spirit.

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If this message moved you, inspired you, or simply reminded you of the kind of person you want to be—I hope you’ll pass it along.

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In a world that often feels depleted, your spirit can be the surplus someone else needs. Keep showing up. Keep giving.

And above all, keep building the kind of life that leaves others better than you found them.