I Asked 199 People For Advice

For the complete list of 199 Words of Wisdom, click here.

For the Chinese menu version of 199 Words of Wisdom, click here.

I hate fortune cookies.

Manufacturers copy-and-paste milquetoast mottos onto strips of paper. Faceless figures stuff cookie-cutter clichés into egg-white wafers under the exotic allure of "Chinese" wisdom. The taste is bitterly artificial; the slogans are corporately saccharine. Breaking bread has never felt so soulless.

Fortune cookies have genealogies. Their voyage down the supply chain connects farmers and distributors, transporters and restaurant owners, fortune writers and publishers, patent holders and contract negotiators.

When cracking open a fortune cookie, the patron only interacts with the frivolous freebie. The cookie is quickly consumed. The paper is quickly read and discarded. The tip is quickly calculated, the card is quickly charged, and the day is quickly continued.

Human connection crumbles when advice is commodified. Without genuine connection, advice is flavorless.

I want a real meal. I want homegrown words of wisdom. I want sugar and spice and authentic advice. I want to offer the opportunity for anyone to cook up something special.

Thus, I approached 199 people over nine days with a question:

What advice do you have for the world?

All natural, no preservatives. Organic conversation.

Pure food from the soul.

So what did everyone bring to the potluck?

My curiosity cultivated connection. Once granted the opportunity, folks served up some delicious helpings of advice. Uncovering this insight was a humbling experience, dusting off memories and recipes tucked in the back of the pantry.

Some people rambled quickly, passionate about their wishes for the world. Others were methodical and subdued, cautiously revealing their counsel like secret ingredients. Responses were whimsical, cynical, maybe even conspiratorial. Each tidbit of advice radiates the personality of its hopeful.

Surveying our potluck, a pattern emerged. 

16 people want the world to "be kind."

An additional 35 people want "kindness" or "niceness." 

Roughly 26% of respondents recommend more kindness in the world. 

If we include people promoting respect, love, peace, empathy, or harmony, approximately 62% of people advocate for friendlier connection and collective unity in their advice.

So many people want kindness. So many people want peace. 

If kindness and peace are so popular, why do they feel so scarce in the world?

Remember the fortune cookie.

The strip of paper supplies a few letters and numbers. 

The words are far from prophetic. The numbers are far from lucky.

A TMZ tabloid offers more substantive reading.

Each word of wisdom supplies a few letters. You may be drawn to the character, the vernacular, the realness of some advice  —  but their humanity remains hidden. The flavor is faded.

You do not know the people behind the advice. You cannot pay compliments to the chef when you never noticed them cooking. 

You are eating my reheated leftovers.

When asking respondents where they received their advice, most people emphasized their experiences. When people receive kindness, they want to impart the same generosity onto the world. When people witness the woes of the world, they wish for empathy and unity. When people struggle and fail, they adapt and improve their lives.

Words of wisdom are harvested through stories and experiences. 

Few people received life-changing advice purely from instruction.

And yet… this blog post is purely instruction. No one else witnessed the entire experiment. No one else can verify every response.

I control the narrative. You are at the mercy of my perspective. I could auto-generate the advice and fabricate some analysis, and you would assume I fed you real, honest food.

Like imitation crab. Or Nestlé.

The experiment is very real. But it is more real to me than it is to you.

You do not know who advocated for optimism while swinging barefoot in a closed-off playground with their Hispanic partner.

You do not know whose grandmother gave kindness to an enemy soldier in World War II.

You do not know which professor promoted making the most of life after they adapted their teaching style to accommodate a student living in hospice.

You would not even know these things happened without my input.

I am the one who remembers. The one who met the comedians and the bartenders. The shuttle drivers and the hotel staff. The art museumgoers and conference attendees. The mayor of a small town in Michigan.

The student who received salient words in a response letter from George W. Bush. The classmate who climbed a building column of rebar during an internship. The kindergartener who handed me a beach pebble carrying a ladybug. The tailgater who puffed their cigar to the sky as if their lungs elected a new Pope.

These people are real to me. Their interactions and conversations are real to me. Their advice is real to me.

To you… these people are faceless avatars.

Offering you flavorless words. Feeding you flavorless fortunes. Quickly consumed and discarded  — advice and person.

Kindness and peace feel so scarce because we do not connect. We hide behind social barriers. We perpetuate cliques and echo chambers.

We assume the worst of each other. We exchange gossip and world affairs like a game of telephone. We memorize our Starbucks orders, but not the names behind the register.

Our smiles are practiced; our laughter is brittle.

We are mysteries to one another.

We do not listen to other people's dreams. We do not give others the opportunity to share their dreams  — dreams that tend to align with our own.

Thus, our dreams stay dreams 'til we tire of dreaming.

I am not the ambassador of advice. I am not the filter to which advice flows through. I am a wannabe-journalist who wants to journal the world. A world that must recognize and reconcile our humanity.

My advice?

Continue the experiment.

Ask people for advice. Family, friends, and especially strangers.

Ask for the story behind their advice. Who gave it to them? What was their experience? Why does it resonate with them?

Then, listen. Connect. Share the humanity.

For what could produce a sweeter fortune?