We All Stand Together... Bam-Bam 🐸

Yesterday marked the anniversary of my father’s passing.

21-04-98.

27 years ago.

It's almost surreal to think back on the lifetime that's passed since.

(So many swirls of the ice cream cone.)

What's stranger: these past days, the heaviness settled in my body more than my mind. Grief, it seems, can become a physical thing—a malaise in the bones, a gentle nudge to slow down. I spent most of yesterday horizontal, simply decompressing. It wasn’t sadness in the way I used to know it. It was just my body saying, “Take it easy.”

So I did.

Originally, I was going to share the story of how I came to write—how loss cracked something open in me and the ideas behind Finding Wilder came to be. But as this current journey goes with its challenges front and center and the growing need to rethink what “security” really looks like, I got dwelling on something different: support.

Following last week’s conversation about self-kindness, this week I can’t help but reflect on the kindness of others.

There’s a Maya Angelou quote that’s stuck with me for some time now. One I've found come to the fore consistently for the past few months, in fact:

That line rings especially true at this time.

Thinking back, a memory still so vivid to me, finds me at the end of my high school career, staring at the threat of failing matric.
(True story.)
It was the world's end over a biology exam. The facts of which refused to stick in my pip at the time. A friend—still one of the best friends I could ask for, decades later—stayed up with me until after 5 a.m. day of finals, walking me through all the possible and likely parts to that pending paper. She didn't have to but she did. I scraped through with a 40% pass…

‘Pass’ being the focus word here.

And it's without question with every fibre of my being I would never have passed if it wasn't for her.

That night was a quiet crossroads between two very different trajectories. The difference in fates was her kindness.

My mum is another stalwart. She hasn’t always understood, but she’s always been there—sometimes hovering, sometimes at a distance, but always present. Other times, it’s been partners, friends, colleagues—people who were confidants during break-ups, soldiers during work chaos, soul-boosters during rough patches, and late-night co-conspirators when life asked for a little more care free.

If I look back on it all, the thing that has carried me through every hard stretch has almost always involved someone else’s support. The friends who sat with me through ugly cries and vino cheers, the advice-givers, the ones who believed in me and loved me when I genuinely couldn’t.

It’s funny—so much ink is spilled out of pens about “making it on your own” or hustling through the hard times. But not so much on how very few of us would honestly make it through anything alone. There’s a reason the “Blue Zones” (those rare spots where people live well into their hundreds) point to relationships and human connection as a key to longevity in any real and meaningful way.

We simply need each other.

As I reflect on things during what is usually my heaviest week, I find myself feeling, oddly, the most grateful. My heart group—those friends, family, and kind souls who have shown up, seen me, cheered (or consoled) me along the way—are the stepping stones of light that have carried me when I didn't know I needed carrying.

Maybe you have your own constellation of supporters: that friend who answered a call at 2 a.m., that parent who tried their best to understand, that stranger who showed unearned kindness on a hard day. Maybe you’ve been that for someone else.

If you can, take a moment today to remember them. If you’re inclined, send them a little note of thanks. You might be the light that lifts someone through their tough day—just as others have done for you (and me).

So this is a sincere thank you. To those who’ve held me up, cheered me up, believed in me, and seen light in places I never knew to find it.

The truth is, everyone you meet, no matter how brief, is going through something.

Here’s to being that support for each other, and letting ourselves be held when we need it.

Until next week!

Always light,

Shanna “grateful for the kindness of others” Lindinger

P.S. If you’d like to share your own story of how you’ve been supported, I’d love to hear it—just hit reply. Sometimes telling it is another way of saying thank you.

▶ Thinking Spot: Coastal path walks with the pooch

▶ Podcast pick: The Rich Roll Podcast

▶ Current read: The Mountain Is You by Brianna Wiest

▶ Writing setup: MacBook Pro + simple notebook and pen

Maya Angelou didn’t just write about compassion—she lived it. Her words remind us that people may forget what we say or do, but never how we made them feel.

Angelou shows us that genuine connection and support aren’t just nice to have; they’re essential—the truest legacy we leave behind. In moments of need and joy alike, these acts of kindness echo across lifetimes.