Being a good human
I started writing my blog on the morning of Sunday, 14 December 2025. I made it partway through and decided to leave it—come back later with editing eyes.
And then, two men—a father and son—tragically opened fire on innocent Australians at a religious community celebration at Bondi Beach on Sunday evening.
With the power of a video camera in the palm of our hands, we witnessed an act of exceptional bravery from Ahmed al Ahmed—and the unthinkable: a family team determined to make their point through death and terror.
As I read back over my “before” blog now, while well-intentioned, it seems self-centred and naïve. So where do we go from here?
Previously, I wrote about my morning ritual—a reliable staple in my life for many years. My day starts around 4:30 a.m. I rise, pad out to the kitchen, and make a cup of tea before returning to bed for 25 minutes of reading the newspaper. Then I’m up and out the door to exercise.
I announced that lately, I’ve been struggling with the newspaper segment of my morning. Rather than feeling informed and interested, I feel heavy and disillusioned. My curiosity about “what’s going on” is waning, and my interest in governance feels disenfranchised by public affairs.
I reflected: “It feels like we are all at each other, and the very minutiae of life is a battleground.”
Through the lens of my extensive world travel over the past few years, I’ve seen the greater community of humans desire the exact opposite. That we are not “at each other,” but seek to understand and lend a hand.
A biodynamic gardener, goat herder, and specialist cheese producer on the outskirts of Fez, Morocco, explained how both exotic and native plants in his garden come to each other’s aid—and encouraged us to act the same way in our homelands.
Or the National Park ranger who carefully navigated us around the precious natural environment of Plitvice Lakes, slowly sharing her personal story of loss from the Croatian war—her father killed in conflict when she was four months old—and how they, as a nation, have learned to forgive.
The Montenegrin farmer with no English but a strong motivation to ensure I was okay—a single woman sitting in one of his pastures eating lunch. He was concerned I was tired (or maybe lost?) and willing me to provide some direction on how he could help.
Or the intrepid rock climbers, Antonia and Leo, who scale historical buildings in the off-season, carefully plucking weeds from limestone mortar while reverently acknowledging bullet holes in the sandstone.
Agon, from Kosovo, who each weekend takes children out into nature to teach them resilience and strengthen their self-esteem.
Precious, a prep-school-age child who carries the quest to raise her Tanzanian family out of poverty.
I could keep going—so many people, so many stories of what it means to be a good human.
Out on a hike with Roberto and Jimmy, we chatted about how we saw the world as it could be—a shared vision in the geographical triangle of the Portuguese jack-of-all-trades, the Kenyan former Olympian, and the Aussie businesswoman. We all want a world where the patient, the curious, the mannered, the kind are triumphantly recognised.
That we, as humans, are welcoming, sharing, honest—and have a smile and a word of support for those we interact with. If we get the basics right, surely this is the best way to bring solidarity to human life on this planet.
Sounds Pollyanna, I know. I can’t help it. I’ve met too many good humans, so I believe it can be achieved.
I am so deeply saddened by Sunday’s events—firstly for the families of those gunned down in innocence, and for the Jewish community who deserve better from their home, and for all of us out there working at being good humans. May we not turn away in disillusionment but keep going… keep going.
Frith x