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I have a story to share today.  

One that might shift your frequency.

The first day the COVID lockdown was finally lifted, I rushed to a little café with a friend. Just the joy of being able to eat out again felt like a celebration. 

We had to wait 20 minutes to get in. The place was packed. People stood outside, smiling behind their masks, desperate for a taste of normal life.

Do you remember that time?

The world was still a little raw. A little awkward. But something inside all of us just wanted connection again.

Now here’s where it gets… interesting.

The service?

Well, let’s just say the universe was testing us.

First came the coffee.
And it was served at room temperature.

Now, in Northern Europe, “room temperature” means achingly cold.

I flagged the waitress—kindly—and asked if I could get a fresh, hot one.

She nodded. And then vanished into the void. No second cup.

Then the food came.

I had ordered an omelet with a side of guacamole.
Now, if you know me, you know this part already:

Guacamole is sacred.

It is the nectar of the gods. The green gold of civilization.

So when my plate arrived—without the guacamole—part of me broke inside. 

I was low-key triggered.

Meanwhile, my friend across the table was getting increasingly annoyed. The cold coffee. The missing guac.

The delay. The forgotten request. The waitress was barely looking up from her notepad.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

But here’s the thing—I wasn’t mad.

Because earlier that morning, I had done my 6 Phase Meditation, and Phase 1—Compassion—had already shifted something in me.

I took a breath. And I looked at the waitress—really looked at her.

That waitress had probably been jobless for three months.

We were all locked down. Restaurants were shut.
And like the rest of us, she was probably feeling painfully alone.

But unlike us, she may have had the added weight of worry:

Where’s the next paycheck coming from?
How will I take care of the kids?
What if the café closes again next week?

Now she’s back on the job, wearing a mask over her nose and mouth for 10 straight hours in an overcrowded café.
And from the corner of her eye, she can see a line of 20 more customers outside, waiting to be seated.

She’s probably doing her best to keep up with a tidal wave of requests, all while quietly holding this terrifying truth in the back of her mind:

"This could all disappear again."

So yeah. From that perspective?

She was doing a hell of a job. 

What if she hadn’t worked in three months?
What if she was terrified of losing her job again?
What if she was carrying the weight of bills, kids, or long-haul COVID… and still showed up?

So when the bill came, I tipped her 20 euros on a 40-euro meal.

My friend nearly choked.

“Are you serious? She messed up everything.”

I just smiled and said, “Yeah. But she’s still standing.

And I respect that.”

We walked out of that café a little more caffeinated… and a lot more compassionate.

I kept thinking about it.

Not the guac. Okay, maybe the guac.
But mostly—the power of that one choice.

The choice to see differently. To act differently.

And then a bigger thought hit me:

Why do we do this so rarely, when this is exactly what all our sacred texts ask of us?

What would Jesus do?

If Jesus were in that café, He wouldn’t be muttering under His breath.
He wouldn’t be demanding a free meal.
He’d smile. Tip. Maybe even bless her on the way out.

If you’re Muslim, maybe you’d reflect on the principle of Zakat.

To give without expectation.
To see others through the eyes of mercy, not merit.

But maybe religion isn’t your thing. That’s cool. You still need a compass, right?

So here’s one I love—equal parts spiritual and cinematic legend:

Yes. That Keanu.

Whether it was his role as Neo in The Matrix, the deadly but noble John Wick, or the ever-optimistic Ted in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Keanu Reeves is considered one of the nicest humans on Earth.

And it’s not just fan hype.

It’s the way he lives.

This is a man who…

• Lost the love of his life in a tragic car accident.
  
  
• Lost his child before she was born.
  
  
• Lost his best friend, River Phoenix, to an overdose.

He’s known loss. He’s known grief.

And maybe that’s why he walks through life with more humility.
More softness.
More presence.

You’ve heard the stories:

• He quietly donates millions to children’s hospitals.
  
  
• He buys meals for homeless strangers—no cameras, no PR.
  
  
• He gave away most of his Matrix salary to the crew and special effects team.
  
  
• He bought Rolex watches for his John Wick 4 stunt team—engraved, personalized.
  
  
• He gives up his subway seat without blinking.
  
  
• He takes time for every fan, every photo, every hug.
  
  
• He mourns privately and deeply… and still shows up with gentleness in his eyes.
  
  

So when the world throws you a test—

An annoying waiter.
A rude email.
A delayed flight.
A missing guacamole incident…

You don’t have to fight back.

You can ask:

What Would Keanu Do?

That’s okay too.

Because giving has nothing to do with money.
It has to do with frequency.

One of our Mindvalley teachers, MBA professor Srikumar Rao (author of The Quest for Personal Mastery on Mindvalley), once shared something I’ll never forget.

We were having coffee one afternoon, and he said:

“If a server has an attitude problem or seems cold, I don’t get upset. I play a little game.
I ask myself: Can I put a smile on their face?
Maybe they’re struggling. Maybe they’ve had a hard day.
So I’ll compliment them. Crack a joke. Share warmth.
The goal is simple—just create a smile.”

If you can’t give a tip, give a smile.

Because here’s the truth about giving:

What you give… You receive.

Not in a cosmic law of attraction kind of way.
But in a how you show up kind of way.

And it has nothing to do with how much money you have. 

Neale Donald Walsch, speaking at Mindvalley once, said something profound about how to attract money by stepping into the energy of abundance. 

“You want to be abundant. Here’s my advice. 

Even if you only have $5 to your name, break it into singles.
And give $1, just $1, to someone homeless. 

 That is the energy of abundance. 

And when you step into that energy—with just $5 to your name—you begin to attract more.

Shift. The. Frequency.

I remind myself of this often.

I wear a small cross—not because of religion, but to anchor myself in the energy of Christ.

To remind myself to be softer. Kinder. More compassionate.

Maybe you don’t wear a cross.

Maybe you wear a pin from your favorite Keanu movie—John Wick, The Matrix, Bill & Ted.

Whatever it is… let it ground you.

Let it whisper to you in those tiny, pivotal moments:

WWKD?

What Would Keanu Do?

P.S.

What Would Keanu Do? is the mindset exercise I’ll be sharing at orientation at Mindvalley U this summer in Amsterdam.

In fact, I often teach this to our community when we descend on a city—be it Tallinn or Amsterdam—for Mindvalley events.

During the weeks of powerful talks, workshops, and community experiences, I remind our members:

Your job is not just to grow yourself, but to light up the lives of everyone you meet.

From waiters, to Uber and Bolt drivers, to street cleaners…

Bring some joy to their lives. 

And the results?

Phenomenal.

To this day, when I walk through Tallinn, people still say to me,

“I love the people who come to your event. They’re so kind. So respectful. I love serving them.”

And that’s the ripple of conscious community.

That’s how being part of something like Mindvalley rewires you.

You start living outside the default settings of society.

You start tipping… even when the service is bad.
Because you don’t know what’s going on in that waitress’s life.

And when you make that small choice?
You don’t just elevate her day.

You elevate yourself.

And sometimes, that’s how we change the world—one tip, one smile, one moment of grace at a time.

So now it’s your turn.

Do you have a story of a time when you chose kindness, especially when the world wouldn’t have expected it?

Share it in the comments.

And tell me what this letter stirred in you.

Note:

Mindvalley U, Amsterdam happens Aug 4 to 18 - learn more here.

Maybe I’ll see you there. The response has been phenomenal, with ticket sales up 60% from 2024. 

Shift. The. Frequency.

Vishen