Upworthy’s book GOOD PEOPLE is coming this year — pre-order now!

Shop
 Explore 

Erica Williams Simon

I'm a recovering D.C. political strategist and activist who is now living the sunny L.A. life as a speaker, writer, and creator/curator of meaningful things. I'm obsessed with the forces that shape how people view themselves and the world around them: mainly faith, gender, race, and pop culture. You can follow or, better yet, talk to me on Twitter, Facebook, and my website.

FollowUnfollowFollowing

Pop Culture

Artist's compelling story of 'embracing' his shaking hand is a valuable lesson for us all

A limitation just might be your liberation.

Canva

A limitation just might be your liberation.

When Phil was in art school, he developed a shake in the worst possible place: his hand.

He thought it meant the destruction of his dream to become an artist, so he left art school and quit art altogether.

When visiting a neurologist years later, Phil learned that the shake was the result of permanent nerve damage and could not be corrected. He was right to have given up. Or so he thought. But the doctor had a different outlook on what that prognosis meant for Phil's art. He said the seven words that Phil will never forget: "Why don't you just embrace the shake?"

And from that day on, that's exactly what he did. Letting his shake run free, he discovered new ways of drawing, used new materials, and completely changed his perspective on the type of art he wanted to create. When he embraced the shake, he realized he could still make art — he just had to get creative. And that's when he learned an important lesson:

Embracing a limitation can drive creativity. A limitation just might be your liberation.

Boom. Mind blown.

In the talk, Phil goes on to give examples of how he applied that principle to his work and life, with some pretty amazing results.

No, really. They're incredible.

But this isn't all about Phil.

It's about you too.

What would happen if you "embraced your shake"?

Watch the Ted Talk video by Phil Hansen below:

This article originally appeared on 08.26.15

From Your Site Articles

video

Health

Why little things can make us feel so good, and why we don't need to feel guilty about it.

Ready to stop feeling guilty for enjoying the things you enjoy? Just take a look at the science.

canva

Science seeks to discover the rules of happiness.

True

How excited would you be if you discovered that your guilty pleasures don't always need to make you feel guilty?

Like what if the blissful satisfaction you get from that slice of warm apple pie isn’t necessarily evidence of an intervention-level addiction to sugar and carbs (despite what that magazine cover told you) but could also just be a sign that you’re craving connection and feeling nostalgic?

Or that embarrassingly joyful feeling you have when small, random objects fit perfectly into another may not be a sign that you have obsessive compulsive disorder but just that you, like most people, really appreciate small moments of order in a chaotic world?

In other words, what if we could trace our feelings of happiness and satisfaction back to our brains and our humanity — and just a little farther away from the guilt-riddled land of right and wrong?

Well, according to science, maybe we can.

Over the past decade, a lot of research has been done into the science — both neurobiological and psychological — around why certain things make us feel so darn good. The science of happiness and satisfaction is a broad, relatively new area of study, and even though, like most big scientific questions, it will take a long time to have definitive answers, a few themes seem to be emerging from the research.

If true, they would be pretty powerful antidotes to the shame-based culture that makes us feel guilty about everything from a blissful bite of chocolate to our pursuit of wealth.

Large portions of chocolate and money.

Picture created via images Pixabay.

So without further ado, here are three ideas about satisfaction and happiness that could make you feel a bit more ... happy and satisfied.

1. It's possible that our brain wiring has a lot to do with how happy we feel.

A representation of the brain reacting to happiness.

Image via Pixabay.

Researchers at Kyoto University used MRI scans to see if they could find where happiness actually happens in the brain. The results showed there was a positive relationship between an individual's subjective happiness score and gray matter volume on the right precuneus (an area in the medial parietal lobe of the brain, located at the top of your head, toward the back). People who were more content with their lives had a larger precuneus. They also found that the same area was associated with positive and negative emotional intensity and life satisfaction.

So while we know that pleasure is both genetic and learned (nature and nurture), it is good to understand that overall happiness and satisfaction is also made up of a lot of factors. Good old biology may be one of them.

2. Some things that we're told "shouldn't" affect our happiness actually do — but not as much as we think.

Does money buy happiness? Well, despite the sweet old moral adage that says it can't, the science tells a different story. Studies show that our instinct (the one that we would never tell our kids about but deep down inside we think is true) is right: Money can increase our life satisfaction. Statistically speaking, household income is strongly related to both emotional well-being and a person's quality of life assessment. In other words, you don't have to feel amoral or greedy for always wanting more money. It makes sense!

But it's the why that's important and can reduce our anxiety a bit. Money increases our life satisfaction in as much as it helps us satisfy other evolutionary needs (like our desire for safety, freedom, health, or novelty, for example) and only up to a certain point. Studies show that after a certain amount, it has diminishing marginal returns on our satisfaction. So we can calm the never-ending desire for more — and stop comparing ourselves to the uber-rich. They aren't that much happier than the rest of us!

3. Overall life satisfaction leads to longer life. (Duh.)

In a nine-year-long study published by Chapman University that looked at adults over 50, the researchers learned that as participants' life satisfaction increased, the risk of mortality was reduced by 18%. By contrast, greater variability in life satisfaction was associated with a 20% increased risk of mortality.

So what's the actionable takeaway here? If we know that life satisfaction is tied to our mortality, it probably makes sense for us to spend time learning what brings us true satisfaction and fulfillment and actually pursuing those things ... right? Allowing ourselves guilt-free pleasures as well as investing in the deeper things that bring us overall life satisfaction isn't a selfish pursuit. It really may be a life-saving (or at least life-extending) measure!

This article originally appeared on 05.16.16

From Your Site Articles

science

The Spooners are a definite example of 'relationship goals' — and the power of love.

True

To be around 56-year-old Ray and Rae Spooner is to be in the presence of a not-so-ordinary couple.

Then again, that's exactly who and what they've always been.

Rae and Ray in their garden. All photos courtesy of Justine Bursoni Photography.

Long before his successful career; before her job as his full-time caregiver; before the epic, unbelievable cross-country bike ride that would go on to raise thousands of dollars for the Muscular Dystrophy Association and ALS, they were simply Ray and Rae.

Two madly-in-love 23-year-olds who decided they wanted to travel the world together.

Their motto? "Never buy a return ticket."

The adventurers got married for one primary reason: Ray, a native Brit, needed a green card. Their plan was to divorce after one year because both had seen their parents endure painful divorces, and despite their love for one another, each was a bit skeptical of this marriage thing.

That was 1983.

Rae helps Ray get dressed.

They are now 33 years into what Ray playfully calls their "failed divorce" — a marriage happily settled in Urbana, Illinois.

The past three decades have seen Ray bring over 2,000 babies into the world as a beloved male midwife, a rarity in his field. Together he and Rae have three accomplished children, one beautiful grandchild, and a global community of people connecting with them through Ray's blog and the work they have done to raise awareness for ALS, the neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord, causing weakness and eventually paralysis of all voluntary muscles.

Their marriage is proof, in more ways than one, that life doesn't always go as planned.

"People always ask us, 'How do you stay married to someone for that long?' We say we're not married to the same person. We have let each other grow individually and grown together. We have never been planners. We go with the flow and deal with whatever life sends our way."

In 2014, that life philosophy was put to the test.

Ray leans against the wall and hold Rae's hand to get downstairs safely.

While sitting in the hospital as their daughter labored with their soon-to-be-born first grandchild, their son-in-law Cory was tagged in the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, the viral video phenomenon that asked people to donate money to help find a cure for the disease or pour ice water over their head. Most people did both.

For kicks and to pass the time during a long labor, Cory decided to accept the challenge right then and there. As his wife continued laboring, Ray and Rae poured ice water over Cory at the hospital.

None of them knew much about ALS, but challenged in turn by Cory, days later Ray too had Rae dump a bucket of ice water over his own head — continuing the viral chain to raise awareness for the rare but aggressive disease.

Little did they know that two months later, Ray would be diagnosed with the debilitating disease himself.

When Ray heard the news, he immediately knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

"We're all dying. As much as we're living, we're all going to die. Now I can't say 'When we retire...' Whatever we want to do, we've got to do it now." He calls those must-do's a "f*ck it list" (not a "bucket list" because you don't have to be dying to do what you want to do). And at the top of that list was a cross-country bike trip.

A decorative bicycle hanging in their home.

Ray, an avid rider, had always wanted to do it. But that desire was no longer just about him. Now it had to have a purpose.

Despite the fact that he already had diminished use of one of his arms, he decided that it was the right time for the trip. And he would do it to raise awareness for ALS and the work of MDA, whose local care center (at the same hospital where Ray worked as a midwife) had given them the kind of medical care and support that Rae said "all care should be like."

On Oct. 18, 2015, a small group of friends, neighbors, and of course Rae, began the awareness-building cross-country bike trip with him. They called it "Ray's Little Ride."

The exciting ups and harrowing downs of that ride — three trips to emergency rooms, an accident that left Ray with several broken bones and blood clots, and an outpouring of public support — garnered quite a bit of press and, in turn, a lot of money for MDA. Videos of support from all over poured in, including from children who Ray had helped deliver over his 20-year career.

On Nov. 19, 2015, Ray finished his ride — nonfunctional arm, injuries, and all. And to date, he and the ride have helped raised over $80,000.

Ray out on a bike ride.

Today, Ray can no longer speak and has even less use of his limbs and other muscles.

He communicates now only via text to Rae. She is his primary mouthpiece. To watch them together is to see love in action. No fanfare, no false humility. Just two people who know each other intimately living life together. She can read his every chuckle, eye roll, yawn, and head nod. She intermittently leans over and wipes saliva from his mouth during conversation. The laughter is nonstop.

Rae gives Ray some water.

Rae calls Ray an amateur documentarian. The walls of their home are filled with pictures of their family and memories of their life together thus far. Now, they have graciously allowed photographer Justine Bursoni to come into their life and capture this phase of their journey together. According to Ray:

"It's funny really. To see your life through the eyes of someone else. Initially there were things I didn't want to be documented. But our life isn't a fairy tale. To be true to the whole narrative you have to include the hard to deal with moments. And there are many."

The hardest to deal with part of it all has been thinking about their children.

"I have had 34 years with him." Rae says. "They have not. They are all handling it differently, in their own way."

Ray and his son, Manu, programming what they called "Rayism" into an eye-gaze-operated communication program.

The second hardest part for Rae has been watching the physical deterioration of Ray's body, despite the unchanging brilliance and alertness of his mind.

"'Ray is an incredibly creative person. He's a jeweler by trade. He built a lot of things in our home and he always loved working with his hands. Now he just can't. This beautiful hand, he can't do anything with.' Rae picks up his hand as she says this and gently waves it in the air. 'Each day it deteriorates more and more. That's been the hardest part. I think in my mind, I thought maybe we wouldn't get to this point.'"

Ray wears his wedding ring on his right hand now that his left is completely paralyzed.

"When he was first diagnosed," she says, they looked for the "'Ray Spooner kind of ALS' — the one where you live another 30 years and what has happened to everyone else doesn't happen to you." But it is happening. And they, like their children, are dealing with it in their own unique way. Rae explains:

"On one visit to the clinic they hand me this huge ass book and they say 'Here, this is for the caretaker.' I'm like nooo, that's not for me. We do things the Ray and Rae way. Were we going to follow this guide? No. We were going to do what works for us. For example, our bathroom is still upstairs and we still live in a split-level home. Or, instead of hauling a wheelchair into a van, pushing Ray around and driving to our doctor's appointment, this morning Ray got on his tricycle, and I walked beside him the entire way."

Rae helps Ray onto his trike for an evening bike ride to Meadowbrook Park.

That isn't to say they don't need help. The importance of accepting and asking for help has been one of their greatest lessons. Nowadays, their house is often full of friends and visitors — everyone willing to pick up a rag or a cup or do whatever they can to help. And that has been their greatest surprise of the journey: just how much people care and are willing to help. Ray reflects on this:

"Initially I think there is a tendency on both the part of the person with the disease and their caregiver to think 'OK, we got this.' But time will come when you will have exhausted all your physical and psychological faculties. Take names. Take numbers. Don't be afraid to pick up the phone. It takes a tribe."

Their daughter, Sophia, wipes the saliva from Ray's mouth as they all enjoy the company of former co-workers on their patio.

But at the core of their tribe is each other.

"This isn't about one partner or family member putting their life on hold to help care for the other. It's about a partnership moving into the next phase of life together," Ray says, speaking about what many see as his wife's "sacrifice."

"One day Rae asked me, 'How will I know you’re still with me?' While the question surprised me, I did have an answer. But when I tried to verbalize a response, I couldn’t get the words out. The thought that one of us would not be with the other had never really occurred to me. But if one of us is not there physically, the essence of that person remains embedded within the person whose life you shared. So, really, how can we ever not be together?"

Ray now wears a BiPAP to bed. Here, he works with Rae to calm down from a panic attack.

He continues,

"I’ve been making movies as gifts for various birthdays in the future for Rae when I’m not around. Rae says I’m her memory so each mini movie is about a certain time or event in our life. I'm up to her 64th birthday. I've also made wedding/housewarming gifts for each of the kids. A book for Rae chronicling our 34 years together (its over 600 pages). A message for Jack on his bar mitzvah. You get the idea."

"Planning for the inevitable is my drug of choice. It may not work for everyone, but it's how I get through. When you're initially diagnosed everyone sends you info about therapy and miracle treatments. But as I said, preparation is my therapy. Fairly early on I decided not to spend my time chasing more time. I'm spending my time spending my time. Making sure that Rae knows I will always be with her."

Rae and Ray look in the mirror and embrace in a similar fashion, as they did for a photo taken years ago.

Ray jokes with Rae about her writing an advice book someday. It would be called, "Things You Need to Know Before You Have to Wipe Your Partner's Ass." They both laugh hysterically when she says this, but there's power in the underlying message. True love at its best requires service.

He continues to blog about his life at Ray's Little Ride.

There, he gives a raw, humorous, and poignant take on life as he knows it — not just living with ALS but the universally human experience of trying to live life as it's meant to be lived.

"Whether we have a disease or not, there is a number to our days. There is risk inherent in walking out the door in the morning. But ALS has given me an opportunity. To not leave things undone or unsaid. That is a gift."

And that's what both Ray and Rae are focused on appreciating. With their blog and their breathtaking photos, they have laid their life bare for the world to see. And he says confidently that he would do it all over again, just to know that he is helping someone.

Rae helps Ray out the back door of their home.

Some tired new moms went for a walk with their strollers — and started a brigade.

True

In May 2012, a group of pregnant women met in a Lotus yoga class in Seattle, Washington's Columbia City. All of them were due in the next month or so and they connected immediately.

Mamas trying to find peace from their crazy lives. Image by www.localfitness.com.au/Wikimedia Commons.

One of the women, Stephanie Keller Chiappuzzo, suggested they continue to meet up with one another after they'd all had their babies. And they'd start with a simple walk around the park.

About 10 people showed up for that first walk, and in Stephanie's words:

"Nobody was pretending new motherhood was amazing or beautiful. We were all exhausted, overwhelmed, and felt completely out of our depth. I often wonder what we looked like to an outsider on that first walk..."

Well, it didn't matter what they looked like at all. These new moms were in it together. And they were onto something.

Soon after, another one of the mothers, Amy Sauer Smith, had the idea to start a Facebook group to avoid the increasingly inconvenient hassle of group texts. Through the page, the moms continued to deepen their relationships with one another. As Stephanie says: "Walks quickly turned to meet-ups at each other's houses and some serious group therapy. Some of us returned to work, some of us didn't. We all still struggled and supported each other."

First baby happy hour: "Moms who drink and breastfeed." Photo by Columbia City Stroller Brigade, used with permission.

From those walks and meet-ups and that one little Facebook page with a dozen members, the Columbia City Stroller Brigade was born. And they never looked back.

Today, the group has nearly 900 members.

But what makes the group unique in a world of advice blogs and mommy groups isn't its size. It's that the 900 members reflect the true diversity of the parenting community in Columbia City.

Not only are there dads who are members and gay couples and adoptive parents, foster parents, birth parents, etc. But the group is a home for a diversity of opinions and strategies on parenting as well. Says Stephanie:

"It's easy to find pages that support your specific interests such as attachment parenting, positive discipline, to cry-it-out or not-to-cry-it-out, or labels like Working Mom or stay-at-home Mom. But on this page all those different parents are actually talking to each other. There have been some heated disagreements, but never any judgement. We are all learning that underneath those labels we are all trying to do the best we can with this parenting gig!"

In a world of mommy wars and parent shaming and debates on right and wrong, the Stroller Brigade is a place where people can safely challenge each other's ideas and learn from one another in a shared community. (If only the rest of the world could do the same...)

As if that isn't valuable enough, these badass parents don't just talk the talk online.

Time and time again, they walk the walk, providing real, tangible support to community families who need it most.

When a mother in the group gave birth to a premature baby with Down syndrome, it was clear she and her family needed some help. Their family already had two other small children, so she and her husband were suddenly underwater trying to care for their premature newborn with special needs. After one short post in the Facebook group about needing a few items, 1,000 mothers responded with clothes, food, special bottles, milk, items for preemies, Down syndrome resources, offers of childcare for her other kids, and mountains of moral support.

Breast milk. Not sure how else to caption it. It's breast milk. Image by Parenting Patch/Wikimedia Commons.

Another time, a woman in the area tragically died during childbirth. The father desperately wanted to fulfill her wish and give their newborn baby, who survived, breast milk. A mother in the group responded by coordinating their first ever milk drive, allowing breastfeeding mothers in the community to donate their own milk for the baby.

The Stroller Brigade went to work. In just three days, the group raised 2,703 ounces of milk from 28 donors — enough milk for the baby to drink exclusively breastmilk for close to four months!

They are now coordinating their second annual drive, this time for an adoptive mother, and are hoping to beat last year's record.

That is the power of connection.

When they're not busy doing serious, generous work to help each other in times of need, they are helping each other in fun ways right there on the Facebook page.

There they can ask and answer questions that, as mothers, they all secretly spend time googling on their own. Stephanie recalls one of her favorite discussions in the group being sparked by a blind poll they took asking how often they were having sex with their spouses. Let's just say that the answers made everyone feel a lot better.

The OGs of the CCSB at their second birthday party. Photo by Columbia City Stroller Brigade, used with permission.

Today, as one of the group's co-administrators with Amy, Stephanie thinks back to that first crazy walk in the park four years ago and how there are still so many mothers who feel the same way they all did on that day.

"Now when I see new moms struggling with the gear and the crying kid and the spit-up I just want to reach out and say you will be okay. But instead I ask, 'Are you a member of the Columbia City Stroller Brigade?' Because I know this group can help them get through those earliest months of insecurity and self-doubt. We all just need to know that everyone feels that way and nobody is living the Pinterest dream."

As their mission statement says, this kind of support and authenticity may seem like not a big deal but it could mean something much more to someone else. I'm sure parents everywhere can agree.

She landed a deal with Whole Foods, has a plan to save the bees — and is in sixth grade.

True

On April 20, 2016, 11-year-old Mikaila Ulmer walked onto the stage at WE Day, a star-studded event celebrating youth who are sparking change in their communities and the world.

Dressed in a white shirt, white pants, and a sparkly belt, with a bright yellow flower in her hair, the sixth-grader stood in front of 15,000 cheering people and confidently told the story of her journey to become a successful social entrepreneur who in 2014 closed a national deal with Whole Foods Market.

How does a little girl — who sells lemonade — end up here?

All photos from Microsoft and WE Day, used with permission.

It all started with a bee.

When Mikaila was 4 years old, she was stung by a bee. Just days later, she was stung again.

Two bee stings in one week would be enough to make any little girl terrified of bees, and Mikaila was no different. She wanted nothing to do with the insect ever again.

But her mother, in a stroke of genius, encouraged her to learn more about bees instead of being afraid of them. Through her learning, Mikaila discovered just how valuable honeybees are. She learned they are the main pollinators of many major fruit and nut crops as well as makers of honey.

But it wasn't all good news. She also learned that, thanks to a variety of factors including commonly used pesticides that may be lethal to bees, they had been dying off at an unprecedented rate for over a decade.

The important honey-making insects that she was now in love with were in serious danger of becoming extinct.

And with that, her fear was transformed into a passion and desire to help save the bees.

Around the same time, her great-grandmother, Helen, sent Mikaila's family an old 1940s cookbook. In it was her grandmother's special recipe for flaxseed lemonade.

Mikaila, who was planning on entering a local children's business competition, suddenly had a bright idea.

What if she could make lemonade using her great-grandmother's recipe and help the bees at the same time?

Mikaila decided to use honey in addition to sugar and entered her concoction into the competition with the goal of spreading the word about the importance of bees — and donating money to help save them.

That's how Me & The Bees Lemonade was born.

In the years since, Mikaila has grown her Me & The Bees Lemonade (formerly Bee Sweet Lemonade) into a thriving business and used a percentage of the profits from every sale to support international organizations working to save bees from extinction.

Her passion to make a difference and turn Me & The Bees Lemonade into a successful social enterprise has garnered the young business owner quite a bit of attention and success.

She secured a $60,000 investment on the popular ABC show "Shark Tank" from investor Daymond John.

In 2014, her hard work paid off when Me & The Bees Lemonade secured a deal with Whole Foods. Her lemonade is now distributed in 55 stores.

She was one of a select few children invited to the White House Kids’ State Dinner.

And, she was chosen as one of tech coalition MVMT50’s top 10 innovators of 2015.

Mikaila's just getting started.

She's excited about coding and is learning Java and is working with Microsoft to continue to scale her business. She’s even building her own computer and has aspirations to create apps so she can share her business acumen with others. She inspires kids at conferences like WE Day all around the country but is also focused locally, helping her classmates and friends with their own business ideas.

What does she tell them? According to the Austin Chronicle, she gives one of her favorite pieces of advice: "Don't be discouraged by life's little stings. You can be sweet and be profitable." She's the living proof.

Dignity Health

This may seem like a story about technology, but it's actually a story about kindness.

True

This is a cool kid named Ethan.

Image via Upworthy and Dignity Health.

This is his pretty cool hand.

Image via Upworthy and Dignity Health.

And the story behind cool Ethan and his cool hand is one of those stories that makes you say, "I'm really glad to be alive right now because this kind of thing could not have happened at any other point in history."

It's a story about YouTube videos and 3D printers and random Internet connections. But more than that, it's all about how one single act of kindness can lead to another. Which leads to another. Which leads to another.

And before you know it, those kindnesses (along with that technology) can make pretty amazing things happen.

It all started back in 2011.

Check out the video below for the full story, or scroll down to check out the six acts of kindness featured and how it goes beyond just Ethan's story to help hundreds of kids like him.

First act of kindness: Let's make a finger.

A man named Ivan Owen posted a fun video on YouTube of himself wearing a metal puppet hand he had made as a costume. Thousands of miles away, a South African carpenter named Richard who had lost his finger in a woodworking accident saw the video and was intrigued. He reached out to Owen to discuss what he made.

Image via Ivan Owen/YouTube.

The two ended up spending a year collaborating on building a replacement finger.

Second act of kindness: Let's make a hand.

The mother of a 5-year-old boy named Liam heard about their project and asked if they could also try to build a small hand for her son who had been born with no fingers. After a lot of hard work and the idea to use a 3D printer, they ultimately developed the first ever 3D-printed mechanical hand. It was badass, and so was Liam.

Image via MakerBot/YouTube.

Third act of kindness: Let's share what we know.

Here's where it gets even more interesting.

Instead of patenting the design for this new hand (can you imagine how much money they could have made?) in January 2013, Owen generously and unselfishly decided to publish the design files as open-source and public domain so that anyone, anywhere could download the files and use a 3D printer to make the same type of prosthetic.

Fourth act of kindness: Let's connect the dots.

Several months later, a professor named Jon Schull (featured in the video) stumbled upon a video of Liam and his 3D-printed hand and saw that people were leaving comments under it, offering up their own 3D-printing skills to help make more hands.

So Schull came up with bright idea to start a Google+ group and an online map for them to share their locations. That way, people who were seeking prosthetics (namely hands) could find the closest volunteer.

He left a comment on the video and invited people to join him in the Google group and put a "pin" on the map marking their location if (1) they wanted to print hands or (2) they knew where a hand was needed.

Fifth act of kindness: Let's build a community.

Well, it worked. By the end of the first day, there were seven pins. In a few weeks, there were hundreds. And the numbers kept growing and growing.

Image via Upworthy and Dignity Health.

It turns out there weren't just a lot of people in need of prosthetic limbs, but there were a lot of people who were able and willing to make them!

That simple idea grew into what is today known as Enable, a nonprofit organization and community made up of teachers, students, engineers, scientists, doctors, designers, parents, children, artists, philanthropists, coders, and everyone in between creating 3D-printed hands and arms and giving them away to those in need of an upper-limb assistive device ... for free.

Sixth act of kindness: Let's make it free.

That's right. Enable gives away the 3D prosthetics at no cost to the recipient.

Those six kind decisions have now made it possible for hundreds of children to receive prosthetics.

And remember our cool kid Ethan? He was one of them. His mom stumbled upon the community online, reached out, and Enable ultimately helped Ethan get the hand that he now just can't stop showing off.

His story (shown in the video above) isn't just amazing because somehow something positive actually came out of a YouTube comment section. And it wasn't just made possible because of the magic of 3D printing — although that, in and of itself, is pretty awe-inspiring.

It was made possible because of the kindness of the creators in the Enable community whose small devotion of resources and time can make kids like Ethan really, really happy.

A horseshoe-shaped device that can help those without sight explore the world better than ever.

True

"I don't think I'm different. I think how I interact with the world is different."

So explains Belo Cipriani, who was born with sight but lost it in adulthood. Like millions of Americans and people all around the world, he's learned to thrive in his new normal, savvily using the right tools to help him on his journey. A guide dog and sometimes a white cane help him get through his day.

All GIFs via Toyota USA/YouTube.

But what would an even more accessible world mean for him? How could he be provided with even more mobility and connectivity? What would that look like?

Hearing Belo discuss how he interacts with the world points us toward the true heart and soul of accessibility. Listen to him and then check out more of the story below.

The term "accessibility" is a common one. It is a sterile word that often conjures up images of ramps and chair lifts, parking spots and building codes. While it is indeed those things, it is also so much more.

Making the world accessible is about doing whatever can be done to ensure people with different abilities can be their full selves with the same freedom, confidence, independence, safety, and ease as everyone else.

It's about more than the occasional closed captioning and braille options or doing the bare minimum to ensure people with disabilities have subpar, insecure, minimally inclusive participation in the day-to-day activities of life.

It's about pushing the limits of what is and rethinking the status quo to give everyone the opportunity to participate in as much of the human experience as possible.

And if there's one sector that understands the value of pushing those limits and possibilities, it's technology.

That's where Toyota's Project BLAID comes in.

Their engineers in the Toyota Partner Robotics group have collaborated for more than four years with leading organizations and members of the blind community to better understand the mobility needs of the visually impaired and develop solutions to meet those needs.

Translation: They're creating technology to fill in the blanks left by current tools for the blind.

How innovative? Well, this new product is a hands-free, horseshoe-shaped device that sits on a person's shoulders. It’s easy to wear and comes with cameras, voice recognition, buttons, speakers, and vibration — all calibrated to help a blind or visually impaired person better explore and interact with the environment around them. Bluetooth technology pairs it with a smartphone.

With a push of a button, it helps identify signs for bathrooms, exits, elevators, stairwells, and other important places — giving people with limited sight a new level of accessibility so they can do more with greater independence and confidence.

Belo, who was invited to check out the product in its early stages of development, is quite excited about the potential and possibilities.

But he's just the first of many to come. Keep an eye on The Toyota Effect for more information.

Toyota's Project BLAID and other technology that is pushing the boundaries isn't a win just for Belo and others with visual impairments.

It's a win for anyone who believes that society is better when every person is able to freely contribute what they believe they are capable of giving to our world.