I'm just trying to find ways to give back and use my platform to

The words of Kenny Stills ring with the nobility of purpose: “I’m just trying to find ways to give back and use my platform to put a smile on other people’s faces and ultimately make change.” This is not merely the utterance of an athlete, but the voice of one who has understood a timeless truth—that gifts, whether of strength, of voice, or of station, are not granted to be hoarded, but to be shared. The ancients would have called this the duty of stewardship, the sacred trust that every man and woman must uphold when fortune places them upon the mountain where others can see.

For the platform is but a stage, and the cheers of the crowd are fleeting. What endures is how one uses that height to lift others. To “put a smile on other people’s faces” may sound simple, but in those words lies the essence of service: to bring joy where there was sorrow, hope where there was despair, light where there was shadow. Stills reminds us that true greatness is not in being celebrated, but in becoming a source of celebration for others.

Consider the story of Marcus Tullius Cicero, the Roman orator. He was not born into nobility, but he rose through his gift of speech to stand among the most powerful men of his time. Yet Cicero did not keep his words for himself. He defended the weak, challenged tyranny, and gave his voice to those who could not be heard. His speeches were not simply for glory but for change, for the shaping of Rome into something greater than it was. Like Stills, Cicero knew that a platform is wasted if it is used only to elevate the self—it must be wielded to elevate the many.

To “give back” is a phrase of deep humility. It acknowledges that all we have—talent, opportunity, even breath itself—is not earned by will alone, but is a gift, nourished by the sacrifices of those who came before us. The warrior who forgets the shield-maker, the singer who forgets the teacher, the athlete who forgets the community that lifted him—such a one dishonors the chain of life that made his journey possible. But the one who gives back pays homage to that chain, and by giving, becomes a link in it for others.

The change that Stills speaks of is no small matter. To change is to bend the arc of history itself, to plant seeds of justice and kindness whose fruits may be tasted long after one’s own days are gone. This is the heroic task, not only of kings or generals, but of every soul who dares to act selflessly in their own sphere. Even a smile given to a stranger can ripple outward into unseen futures. The athlete who kneels in protest, the teacher who lifts a child’s spirit, the parent who models compassion—these are architects of change no less than the conquerors who redraw maps.

Let this, then, be the lesson: do not wait until you stand upon a stage as vast as Kenny Stills’s to begin. Each of us, in our own circle, has a platform—the dinner table, the workplace, the neighborhood street. Use it not for idle words, but for lifting burdens, spreading joy, and sowing courage. Speak kindness when others fall silent, give time when others turn away, share what you have rather than guarding it jealously. In so doing, you will find that your small acts create waves of transformation.

The ancients tell us that a man is measured not by what he keeps, but by what he gives. Therefore, seek not only to rise, but to raise. Seek not only to shine, but to illuminate. And when your days are recounted, may it be said not merely that you achieved much, but that you made change, that you left the world brighter than you found it.

So remember the words of Kenny Stills, children of tomorrow: let your gifts be a river, not a reservoir. Pour them into the lives of others, until their laughter becomes your crown, and their joy your eternal legacy. For this is the way of true greatness—not in being adored, but in being remembered as one who gave back, who brought smiles, and who dared to change the world.