By Tom Reilly – June 23, 2025
Over the years, I’ve found comfort and perspective in the words of deep thinkers—people whose insights reach farther and dig deeper than mine ever could. Their wisdom has stayed with me, not just as inspiration, but as quiet guideposts along the road.
One idea that struck me like a bolt of truth is something I first heard on a radio show—what we’d now call a podcast. It’s known as The Traveler’s Ethic:
“Leave a bigger woodpile than the one you found.”
The phrase traces back to the Upper Midwest, where winters are long and brutal. In remote cabins used by travelers, trappers, and hunters, there was an unwritten rule: if you used someone’s firewood, you replenished it—and then some—for the next traveler. It wasn’t just a courtesy; it was survival.
That ethic stayed with me. It challenges me: Am I leaving behind something more than just my shadow on this earth?
Another guiding light came from my friend Denis Waitley, who recently passed. Denis often said,
“Winners plant shade trees under which they will never sit.”
That line took root in me. It’s a vivid picture of selfless contribution. Curious about its origin, I followed the trail to Cicero—whom I now refer to fondly as “Mark.” He credited the phrase to the poet Caecilius Statius, who said, “He plants trees which will be of use to another age.” Nelson Henderson rephrased it beautifully a century ago:
“The true meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit.”
Shade trees, woodpiles—symbols of a life lived in service of others. I find that noble.
Albert Einstein once offered this advice to the son of a journalist:
“Try not to become a man of success, but rather become a man of value.”
That hit home. Success can feel hollow. Value, on the other hand, is about what we bring to others—how we elevate, encourage, or ease someone else’s burden. That’s legacy.
And of course, Gandhi makes my list. He said,
“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”
Serving isn’t a grind or a guilt trip. It’s a gift. It’s not what we have to do—it’s what we get to do.
I’ll give the final word to the Bengali poet Tagore, who wrote:
I slept and dreamt that life was joy.
I awoke and saw that life was service.
I acted and behold, service was joy.
That just about says it all.
Between four years in active duty and 36 years in the service industry as a professional speaker, I’ve tried to leave a few woodpiles stacked and some shade trees growing. I’ve come to believe that service is transformational—not only for the one being served, but especially for the one who serves.
Tom Reilly is the author of 17 books–his latest is Dynamic Writing–the art, craft, and process of written expression.
