WHEN KIM JI-UN lived in Seoul, she worried about finding a good job. Now, she is worried that drought may ruin her crop. The 23-year-old started a farm last year. Her first harvest was an unexpected success.

Ms Kim is part of a phenomenon called kwichon, or returning to rural life. The term crops up during periods of economic hardship. This time, in the wake of the pandemic, many new farmers have never lived in the countryside before. The government promotes the idea as a solution to the problem of South Koreans migrating to Seoul, aiming to regenerate struggling rural regions. By planting young farmers in rural areas, the government hopes to enjoy big rewards in future.

The plan is working. In 2021 nearly 380, 000 people moved to the countryside, up 15% from 2015 and almost half (a record high) younger than 40. Comfort with digital technology gives young farmers a leg up, says Cho Kyung-ik, the director of the Beginning Farmer’s Centre, an institution educating those who wish to kwichon at its downtown offices. They sell fresh produce on Naver, South Korea’s largest search engine.

The centre teaches techniques like how to use a tractor or select the best crops. It arranges a trial period during which ambitious farmers work under the guidance of an old hand, learning what it means to do back-breaking labour from dawn to dusk.

The most important lesson is how to get on with the locals. The villagers are also offered tips on how to act towards the newcomers. That part is not yet a total success. Ms Kim says her neighbours have a bad temper. “The old people come in here and give me unwanted advice, or say that I will never be able to grow anything, ” she says. Her black beans beg to differ. She and the South Korean government will be hoping that her crops put the argument to rest for good.

Babies appear to know how to help those in need, according to researchers who studied signs of altruism in almost 100 children. Researchers who wanted to see whether children would give up their food to give it to a stranger without encouragement found the kids just did that — even when they were hungry.

The scientists recruited 96 19-month-old children. During the experiments, a child and a researcher sat across from each other. In the control group, the researcher threw a piece of fruit onto a plate beyond reach, but the child could reach. The researcher showed no expression and made no attempt to get the fruit back. In contrast, the researcher in the test group pretended to accidentally drop the fruit on the plate, and then reach for it unsuccessfully. This signaled to the opposite child that the adult wanted the fruit. Among the test group, 58 percent of the children picked up the fruit and gave it to the adult, compared to 4% in the control group.

Next, the team explored if children would still be generous when the cost was raised. The same scenes as the experiment above were repeated with a separate group of kids before their lunchtime, when they were likely to be hungry. Similarly, 37 percent of the test group handed over the fruit, compared with none in the control group.

The experiments were repeated four times. Researchers got similar results each time. Babies with siblings (兄弟姐妹) and babies from Latino or Asian families shared more of the fruit, the team also found.

Carter Morgan, lead professor of the study, said, “We often think of babies as selfish persons. But here we find that they are willing to help others even when it comes at some ‘cost’ to themselves.” Addressing why children with siblings or from certain cultural backgrounds were more likely to share, Morgan said , “ We believe this partly reflects what social psychologists call ‘interdependence’, which stresses the importance of interpersonal connections. These social experiences that shape attitudes towards sharing appear to have an effect very early in life.”

In the book I’ve been reading lately, “On Living” by Kerry Egan, she shares so many powerful stories — each story a parting gift from a hospice (救济院) patient who never knew when a newly arriving might be their last.

What a profound (深刻的) way to live! In a sense, I guess we all live that way, each and every day. But as I read this book, I get the feeling that only hospice patients really know this. Sometimes I realize it, like when I am faced with a choice to work more to earn more money or to go to spend the day with a loved one and earn no money. On the one hand, money, income, rent. On the other hand, love, connection, moments that make life feel like worth living for.

Near the end of “On Living,” Egan shares a story about a patient she calls Linda. Events from decades past were preserved in their mind like precious heirlooms(传家宝), but a new face could be forgotten in as little time as it took to leave the room and return again.

Linda said that she spent her days trying to be caring. She shared: We shower so much love on babies and children. But as we grow up, it stops. No one showers love on grown-ups. Life gets harder, not easier, but we stop loving each other so much, just when we need love most. She then went on to say: One day, when I was lying here, I realized how God is. He is so old. He must need so much love. People are always demanding so much from him, but who is there to shower him with love? So I thought that was something I could do. That’s what I do all day: I try to love God....I can lie here and love God and maybe it will help him.

This is the kind of story that I find impossibly inspiring and provides great impetus for me to make a change. Luckily, I read it on one of the former and it made me realize that there is always a way to help. There is always something we can do. We don’t have to be brave, able-bodied or even of particularly sound(健全的) mind to contribute to the good. We can be caring. We can love. We can be the very love that we need.