Over the years, I’ve come to realise that generosity doesn’t always mean writing a cheque. Sometimes, it’s sharing your skills. Sometimes, it’s connecting the right people. Sometimes, it’s simply showing up and offering encouragement when it’s needed most.

I’ve always been driven by a deep belief that when one person thrives, the whole community benefits. So I make it my mission to lend a hand whenever and however I can.

Whether it’s helping a local restaurant grow their online presence after a simple food review sparked a surge in business or calling on my network to donate prizes to a grassroots film society trying to keep their lights on, I look for the quiet opportunities to make a difference.

When a local artist needed help setting up an Etsy store, I walked them through it step-by-step. When a struggling market stallholder couldn’t afford signage, I bartered design support in exchange for some of their incredible handmade goods. And when I see someone with a spark of an idea but no resources, I do my best to offer both practical guidance and, when possible, small-scale funding to get them started.

And one of the places that grounds me most is Shop 16 Food Relief, where I volunteer each week. Sorting produce, chatting with community members, helping people choose what they need. It’s simple, hands-on work, but deeply human. There’s something profoundly satisfying about being part of a place that makes sure people feel supported, dignified, and fed during their hardest moments. It reminds me that generosity isn’t abstract; it’s practical, immediate, and often quietly lifesaving.

These may not be grand gestures, but they’re genuine. They’re rooted in kindness, collaboration, and a belief in the power of small beginnings.

I don’t help others for recognition. I do it because I’ve seen how one generous act can ripple outward, lifting others, strengthening communities, and inspiring people to believe in themselves.

That’s the kind of legacy I want to build.