Most mornings, the first hour belongs to work.
No coffee. No breakfast. No phone. My mind is formless at that hour, and resistance hasn’t woken up yet, so I write.
But I’m human, and some mornings the phone wins.
On one of those mornings a few weeks back, I opened Instagram to a video I’d been tagged in—four and a half minutes later I was crying at my desk.
This is the story of Kwazi Darko and the gift of gratitude.
Covid connection
We met in late 2020 at the height of lockdown in Melbourne.
A fire alarm in the apartment building we both inhabited sent us out onto the footpath on a frosty winter night. While we huddled around, trying to stay warm as the firefighters inspected the building, our partners at the time got chatting.
Our groups exchanged pleasantries as we fought back shivering dread at all the insanity that the moment in time presented us.
Against the law, but in line with our desire for connection, we invited these strangers from down the hall to join us back in our apartment for drinks and food once we had got the all clear from the firies.
They went back to their apartment to collect some goodies.
Then, when the coast had cleared, they snuck back down, gently knocked on the door and made their way in for a night of celebration.
That night was something remarkable.
The world was falling apart, and we were told not to connect. The law prevented us from visiting people and bonding, but we needed it. We all needed it.
A friendship is born
Eventually our relationships ended, but our friendship blossomed.
Kwazi and I shared a deep respect for so many things that made this existence worth living—art, philosophy, resilience, intellect, hustle, creativity.
We didn’t hang out often, but he quickly became someone I could trust.
Someone I wanted around as often as possible.
One of those friends you could not hear from for twelve months, ask them to be somewhere, and, without even thinking about it, know they're there.
He attended our first headline show in Melbourne, at Laundry Bar in 2021.
He watched my one-and-only boxing fight in late 2022.
And of course, he was always up for a late night and a beverage whenever some bro time was required.
The gift of gratitude
In late 2022, after some deliberation, I designed and ordered 300 of my own gratitude journals. They arrived on the 18th of April in 2023.
A few days after they arrived, I received a voice message from Kwazi…
He invited me down to a photo shoot for his fashion brand—my response was short and sharp:
As I was heading out to meet him for the shoot, I made a last-second decision to bring one of my new journals as a gift.
The next day, he sent me a text, thanking me for the journal.
The grass ain’t greener (or is it?)
Over the next couple of years, our lives diverged.
I spent 2023/24 chasing creativity and artistry. Working casually at a cafe whilst recording music, making podcasts, writing newsletters, playing shows and immersing myself in Melbourne’s world of creatives.
He spent this time building his network, net worth and career in the finance game.
Subtly, we both desired what the other had.
I wanted the security and consistency that came with a salary and a 9-5. He wanted the freedom and depth that came with a life spent creating.
Eventually the pull became too great.
I found a job in sales and started working my way into the security that I had desired, and he threw caution to the wind to pursue the arts.
I finally got to return the favour and watch my guy in his element in May 2025 as he took the stage for one of his first roles in a theatre production. Just like he didn’t have to announce himself at my fight night, I secretly made my way to the venue, sat in the front row, and watched him shine.
Since then, it’s been all gas, no brakes for both of us.
I’ve been climbing the corporate ladder in sales, falling in love and building a life for myself. Kwazi has been going hard in the creative community—acting, modelling, attending events and expressing himself like never before.
I can’t speak for him, but I know that this side of the fence has its benefits, but it also has its challenges, and that’s ok.
The grass isn’t necessarily greener, but we both had to know what it looked like.
(All this waffling about our unique timeline will make sense shortly, I promise!)
Paths converging
So, we come to the more recent past.
As I said at the top of the newsletter—it’s a weekday morning before work, and I decide to open my phone instead of getting stuck into some writing.
I see that I am tagged in an Instagram reel. I open it up and begin watching.
It’s Kwazi… and he’s holding the journal.
“Little gratitude book… huh… he doesn’t even know that I’m making this video.”
He pauses, creating tension, and stares straight down the barrel of the camera like he knew that I was just on the other side of the lens.
“Sav, I finished it.”
The video went for four and a half minutes; it’s a testimonial of sorts. A testimony for the power of gratitude, the power of belief, the value of good friends and the overwhelming relief that one gets when they live authentically.
Kwazi said that he was proud of himself for finishing the book.
I am also so proud of him.
For finishing the book, for believing in himself and for chasing his dreams.
I say paths converging because when I opened my phone to watch this video, I was really struggling with being on this side of the fence. The stress and responsibility of management had really been weighing on me, and due to time constraints, I haven’t been able to create the things necessary to act as a counterbalance.
Leading to a feeling of burnout from the life I had built for myself.
I was feeling a little stuck. A little helpless. Then I opened my phone, and he was there.
Once again, Kwazi had found a way to whisper through the noisy world and remind me of what is important, at a time when I had seemingly forgotten.
The gift that keeps on giving
I cried while watching the video.
Despite all the antidepressants coursing through my system, the emotions were so strong that a couple of drops found their way out.
The video was special in so many ways.
One way that I don’t think Kwazi intended is that it got me thinking about my impact on the world and my own creations again. He probably didn’t know that my creations and expression had mostly taken a back seat for the past 18 months, and that this video and moment of vulnerability were the reminder I really needed.
I had been so caught up in trying to find stability that I almost traded in my sanity as well. Kwazi stopped me before it was too late.
Once upon a time, I handed the gift of gratitude to a friend—and at a time when I needed it more than ever, he handed it back. Perhaps unknowingly, but either way, it was handed back to remind me of what gratitude can bring to people’s lives.
This practice is sacred, and it can truly help.
I feel as though the gift was returned to me so that I could continue giving it to others who may be in need of its healing properties.
Final thoughts
It’s a crazy business, this life stuff.
I gave that journal away on a whim. A last-second decision on my way out the door. I didn’t think about it again for three years.
On the exact morning I needed it, it came back.
Not the journal. The reminder, the lesson. That the energy you put into the world keeps moving long after you’ve forgotten it. That the person you show up as matters, and the things you created three years ago are still out there doing work for you.
I’ve spent eighteen months chasing stability and slowly drifting away from the things I need to survive. Creativity and expression. They are my oxygen.
They give me stability when everything else is falling, and yet I forgot about them.
Kwazi had no idea about any of the above. He just made a video.
And that my friends is how this shit works. You give the thing away freely, not because you expect something later, but because it is right.
You don’t get to choose what it becomes or if it will ever return.
But you do it anyway, because you have to.
So, if you’re holding onto a gift, let it go.
Give it away!
The compliment, the gratitude, the risk, the encouragement, the little book you bought a lot of (too many of) on a hunch. Hand the gift to someone and then forget about it.
One day, when you’re running on empty and can’t remember why you started, it’ll find its way back to you.
If you wish to watch Kwazi’s gift of gratitude, you can do so here.
To Kwazi—thank you, big mahn! I see you shining, I see you grinning, I see you exploring this life in the realest form, and I am so proud of you.
That’s it from me, gang!
With gratitude,
SAV
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Every week I show up and write the truth about the work, the people who carry us, and the small things that turn out to be everything.