Faq

What does "being good" even mean?

It means acting with kindness, integrity, and care for others—without needing perfection or approval. It’s less about grand gestures and more about everyday choices: listening deeply, owning mistakes, and choosing empathy when it’s hard. It’s a practice, not a fixed state.

Here’s what I know after 78 years: Being good isn’t about never falling—it’s about how you get back up, and whether you help the next person who’s down. I learned that the hard way. Back in the ’70s, I was the drummer for a band that played at the Blue Note. I could make the snare crack like a whip, but my life was a mess. I’d show up late, miss gigs, and blow my rent money on pills. One night, after I’d skipped a set for a "fix," the bassist, a man named Eddie who’d been my brother in music, just looked at me and said, "Roger, you’re playing the wrong notes tonight. Not the ones on the page. The ones in your soul." That was the first time I heard the truth. Being good starts with showing up for yourself.

Practical Deep Dive: - The "Small Note" Practice: Instead of waiting for a "big" moment to be kind, choose one small, daily action. When you make coffee, say "Good morning" to the barista with eye contact. When your partner brings you a glass of water, say "Thanks, you remembered." These aren’t grand—they’re the foundation of the groove. - Avoid the Perfection Trap: I used to think being "good" meant never hurting anyone. But that’s impossible. My daughter, when she was 12, caught me in a lie about where I’d been. I didn’t just apologize—I sat with her, held her hand, and said, "I was scared to tell you the truth. That wasn’t kind. I’ll do better." That’s the real work. Not perfection. Presence.

The Myth of Perfection: Why "Good" Isn’t a Trophy

We’re sold a lie: that being good means being flawless. Bullshit. I’ve seen musicians who could play the hardest solo in the book but couldn’t keep a relationship together. I’ve seen saints who couldn’t forgive themselves for a single misstep.

Real Talk from the Bandstand: When I was clean at 45, I started teaching drumming to kids at the community center. One boy, Marcus, was always late, always disruptive. I’d snap, "Sit down, kid!" One day, he didn’t show up. I found out his mom was sick. I went to his house, not to lecture, but to ask, "Can I help?" He just shook his head. I didn’t fix it. I just showed up. That’s how you build trust—not by being perfect, but by being present in the mess.

Common Mistake to Avoid: > Thinking "I messed up once, so I’m a bad person." > Truth: You’re a human who made a human mistake. The next note is always yours to play.

How do I know if I'm being ethical?

Ask yourself: "Does this action respect others' dignity and well-being?" Reflect on how your choices impact people (and the planet), and trust your gut when something feels off. Ethics grow through practice, not perfect answers.

A Story from the Sidelines: Years ago, I was offered a gig with a big-name band. The leader, a slick guy named Vince, told me, "Roger, you play great, but you need to not talk to the bassist. He’s got a temper." I knew Eddie was a good man, but Vince wanted me to play around him, not with him. I said no. It cost me the gig. But that night, Eddie and I sat in a diner, and he said, "You chose the right note, kid." That was the ethical choice. Not the easy one. The right one.

Actionable Step: Next time you’re unsure, ask: 1. Who might this hurt? 2. What would I want someone to do for me in this situation? 3. Does this align with my core values (not just my ego)? Do this before you hit "send" on that email, or before you say that cutting remark.

When Kindness Feels Like a Burden: The Rest Notes

It’s okay to set boundaries—true kindness includes caring for yourself too. Rest isn’t selfish; it’s how you sustain your ability to help others. Prioritize small, sustainable acts of kindness, not constant heroics.

My Biggest Lesson (After Losing Everything): In my 40s, I thought "being good" meant always saying yes—to my band, to my family, to the guy who needed a loan. I burned out. I missed my daughter’s birthday. I showed up to a gig hungover. That’s not kindness. That’s exhaustion. When I finally got sober, I learned the most important thing: You learn to play the rest notes too.

Practical Wisdom: - The 5-Minute Reset: When you feel drained, step away for 5 minutes. Breathe. Don’t think, "I should be doing more." Just be. That’s how you refill the cup. - Boundary Script: "I care about you, but I can’t talk right now. Let’s connect at 3 PM." Not "I’m busy." Not "I don’t want to." Just clear. - Example: My grandson, Leo, 8 years old, was having a meltdown at the grocery store. I wanted to rush over and fix it. Instead, I took a breath, said, "I see you’re upset. I’ll wait right here," and sat quietly. He calmed down. That was the kindness—not forcing a solution.

How do I handle someone who's not being good to me?

Respond with calm clarity: "I feel hurt when you [specific action]. I need [specific request]." Protect your peace without hatred—walk away if they refuse to respect you. You can’t fix others, but you can choose your response.

From the Trenches: My ex-wife, Diane, used to say, "You’re too quiet, Roger." I’d just nod, not wanting to fight. But silence isn’t kindness—it’s avoidance. When she’d yell at me for "not being present," I started saying, "When you raise your voice, I feel scared. I need us to talk calmly." It wasn’t perfect. But it was true. And it changed things.

What NOT to Do: - ❌ "You’re so selfish!" (Makes them defensive) - ✅ "When you cancel plans last minute, I feel disappointed. Can we agree to text if it changes?"

The Real Key: Your peace is non-negotiable. If someone refuses to respect your boundaries, walk away. That’s not giving up—it’s honoring your own rhythm.

Is it okay to prioritize myself sometimes?

Absolutely! You can’t pour from an empty cup. Prioritizing your needs (rest, health, joy) makes you better equipped to support others. Self-care isn’t selfish—it’s essential for being present for the world.

The Jazz Truth: On the bandstand, if I didn’t eat, I’d miss the downbeat. If I was tired, my time would be off. Self-care isn’t a luxury—it’s the foundation of the groove. When I was clean, I started taking my morning walks. No phone. Just me and the rhythm of my feet. That’s when I’d hear the real music—the birds, the wind, the hum of the city. That’s how you stay in the game.

Actionable Step: Block 15 minutes every day for you. Not for work. Not for others. Just for you. Read a book. Sit in silence. Feel the rest notes.

How do I teach my kids to be good?

Model kindness and honesty in your daily life—kids learn more from what you do than what you say. Gently discuss choices: "How do you think that made them feel?" Focus on empathy, not perfection—let them know mistakes are part of growing.

My Biggest Failure (and Lesson): When my son, Mike, was 10, he lied about breaking a neighbor’s window. I yelled, "You’re just like me!" That was the worst thing I could’ve said. I’d been lying for years. Instead, I sat with him: "I know it’s hard to tell the truth. When I lied, it made me feel scared. Let’s call the neighbor together." He did. And we fixed the window. That’s how you teach—not by shaming, but by showing the way.

What to Say (Instead of "Be Good"): - "I saw you share your snack. That was kind. How did it feel?" - "You got mad when your friend took your toy. It’s okay to feel that way. What could you say next time?"

What if I've done something wrong?

Own it simply: "I’m sorry I [action]. I’ll [fix it/learn]." Apologize sincerely, make amends if possible, and grow from it. Everyone stumbles—what matters is your willingness to do better next time.

The Apology That Changed Everything: After my addiction, I lost touch with my daughter for 10 years. When I finally called, I didn’t say, "I’m sorry I was a bad dad." I said, "I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I’m working on being here now. Can I take you for ice cream?" That was the start. Not a perfect apology. Just a real one.

How to Do It Right: 1. Name the action: "I yelled at you when you were late." 2. Name the impact: "You felt scared." 3. Name the change: "I’ll take a breath next time." No excuses. No "but." Just truth.

How do I stay motivated?

Focus on small, daily choices, not big goals. Celebrate when you choose kindness, even when it’s hard. Remember: being good is about showing up, not being flawless—your effort matters more than perfection.

The Long Game: I’ve been playing drums for 60 years. Some nights, I play the same 8 bars for an hour. That’s the work. Not the solo. The repetition. The showing up. When I was 50, I thought I’d "arrive" at being a good drummer. I was wrong. It’s the daily grind that builds the groove.

Your Daily Practice: - At night, ask: "What’s one small thing I did today that was kind?" (Even if it was just holding the door.) - Don’t judge yourself for the days you didn’t. Just show up tomorrow.

Why This Matters

Being a good human isn’t about being flawless—it’s about showing up with heart, learning from stumbles, and choosing connection over judgment. Every small act of kindness ripples outward. I’ve seen it in my own life: the time I apologized to Eddie, the time I sat with Leo at the grocery store, the time I took a walk alone. These weren’t grand. They were human.

And here’s the truth I learned after losing everything and rebuilding: The most beautiful music isn’t the loudest note. It’s the space between them. That space is where kindness lives. That space is where you rest. That space is where you choose to be good.

You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to show up. One note at a time.

— Roger Jackson, still playing