Sixty Cans

60cans.com · sixtycans.com

Sixty Cans

Sixty good, small, ordinary things that anyone can do — for each other, and for the one planet we all share.

Read all sixty

The cans

Sixty cans, with a tip of the hat to Andy Warhol. Each one holds something good. Tap a can to open it.

Sixty things you can do

No grand gestures required. Pick one. Then another.

  1. You can hold the door a beat longer than you strictly need to.
  2. You can learn the name of someone you see every day but have never really met.
  3. You can grow something. A pot of basil on a windowsill absolutely counts.
  4. You can mend it instead of replacing it. Sew the button, glue the handle, patch the knee.
  5. You can ask someone how they are, and then actually wait for the answer.
  6. You can cook from what’s already in the fridge before buying anything new.
  7. You can make the short trip on foot. You’ll notice things you’ve been driving past for years.
  8. You can write a thank-you note by hand and post it. Paper still delights.
  9. You can join your local library. It’s still one of the best deals in town.
  10. You can turn peelings and coffee grounds into rich, crumbly soil.
  11. You can carry a bottle you refill and a cup that’s yours.
  12. You can give blood, if you’re able. One donation can help up to three people.
  13. You can teach someone a skill you take for granted.
  14. You can let the other car in, and let the slow walker set the pace.
  15. You can leave a corner of the garden a little wild for the bees and the beetles.
  16. You can pick up one piece of litter on every walk.
  17. You can laugh at yourself. Often, and out loud.
  18. You can ring an older relative or friend just to chat. No reason needed.
  19. You can lend the ladder, the drill, the tent. Most of them sit idle most of the year.
  20. You can go somewhere properly dark and look up for ten whole minutes.
  21. You can give an afternoon to a beach clean, an animal shelter or a community garden.
  22. You can look for it secondhand first. Someone’s attic is full of exactly what you need.
  23. You can be the first to say sorry.
  24. You can cook a little extra and take it next door.
  25. You can ask “why?” the way a five-year-old does. Then ask it again.
  26. You can get up early and watch the sun come up at least once this year.
  27. You can switch off what you aren’t using. The planet and the bill both say thanks.
  28. You can tell someone exactly what they did well. Be specific; it lands better.
  29. You can plant a tree, or look after one that’s already there.
  30. You can leave your phone in another room for a whole evening.
  31. You can learn to recognise three birds by their song alone.
  32. You can pass on the clothes, books and toys that still have plenty of life in them.
  33. You can make the new person feel welcome — at work, at school, on your street.
  34. You can eat what’s in season and grown nearby. It tastes better, too.
  35. You can put down an old grudge. You’re the one who’s been carrying it.
  36. You can eat outside more often. Bring a blanket.
  37. You can ask a child what they think about something, and really listen.
  38. You can host a swap: books, seeds, clothes, jigsaws.
  39. You can catch rainwater for the garden.
  40. You can smile at strangers. Most of them smile back.
  41. You can write a letter to yourself, to be opened in ten years.
  42. You can leave a glowing review for a little local business you love.
  43. You can ask an older person to tell you their story, and write it down.
  44. You can ride a bike somewhere you’d normally drive.
  45. You can look closely at something small: frost on a window, a snail shell, the veins of a leaf.
  46. You can ask for help when you need it. It lets someone else be kind.
  47. You can rest without feeling guilty. You are not a machine.
  48. You can sing badly and loudly, and dance in the kitchen.
  49. You can bring your own bag, your own cup, your own box.
  50. You can celebrate other people’s wins as loudly as your own.
  51. You can start something new at sixty. Or sixteen. Or ninety-six.
  52. You can spend a couple of hours a week outdoors, among green and growing things.
  53. You can check on the neighbour who lives alone, especially when the weather turns.
  54. You can name three good things from today before you fall asleep.
  55. You can quietly pay for the next person’s cup of tea.
  56. You can cut a small gap at the bottom of your fence so hedgehogs can roam.
  57. You can rinse and recycle your cans. A recycled can can be back on the shelf in about sixty days.
  58. You can help someone who’s just starting out where you once started.
  59. You can believe that people can change. Including you.
  60. You can start today. Pick a can — any can.

Can do.

Sixty Cans is a small, cheerful idea: that the world gets better mostly in small, ordinary, everyday ways. A held door. A mended jumper. A neighbour checked on. A hedgehog let through the fence.

None of it needs permission, money or a platform. It just needs someone who can. And you can.