Why Does the Norm Exist?

A few years ago, I left handmade cards on park benches. The cards were simple: a few encouraging words and a small surprise for a stranger.

I wasn't doing anything harmful. If anything, I was trying to brighten someone's day.

Yet I always felt slightly uncomfortable while doing it.

Not guilty exactly.

Exposed.

If someone saw me placing the cards, I imagined having to explain myself.

“What are you doing?”

Why did that feel awkward?

At the time, I thought I knew the answer. People are often suspicious of anything unusual. If someone quietly helps strangers, gives things away, or does something outside the usual script, others may react with skepticism.

I assumed the discomfort came from other people's narrow-mindedness. I was doing something good. The problem was them.

Or so I thought.

As I have gotten older, I have become less certain.

Not because I think kindness is wrong or unconventional acts are automatically bad, but because I have started noticing something I missed before.

Good intentions are only part of the story.

For a long time, I judged actions mostly by motive. If the intention was generous, the action was good. If the intention was selfish, the action was bad. It seemed straightforward.

Then life complicated the picture.

I began noticing situations where helping one person created difficulties elsewhere.

A gift could create expectations.
Generosity could create imbalance.
Support could quietly become dependence.
An act that benefited one person could unintentionally create tension for others.

The intention remained good. The consequences became more complicated.

I started realizing that many social norms are not random.

Some deserve to be challenged. Some deserve to be ignored. But some exist because generations of people discovered problems that are not immediately obvious.

The norm may not always be right. Yet neither is the person breaking it.

For many years, whenever people questioned my unusual acts of kindness, I assumed they simply did not understand.

Sometimes that was true. But not always. Sometimes they were seeing consequences that I had not considered.

I still enjoy doing unconventional things.
I still write about unusual topics.
I still leave surprises for strangers.
I still believe some of life's best moments come from stepping outside the ordinary.

But I no longer assume good intentions make an unconventional act right.

Now, when I feel that small hesitation before doing something unusual, I treat it differently.