A few weeks ago, I went to a memorial service in New York for Howard Rower, a dear friend and early investor in the magazine. Patch Adams, the clown/visionary/M.D. who treats patients for free, was sitting next to me and entertaining a little girl with an impressive array of clown paraphernalia during the service. Howard would have approved.

After the service, Patch turned to me and grabbed my arm. This may not be even close to what he said, but this is what I heard: "You’re lying. We’re facing extinction, and you have the power vested in the magazine. If you don’t speak up louder, you are lying. Everywhere I go people are unhappy. There is so little joy. We need communities and we need a revolution based on love. I would apologize for coming on so strong, but I see in your eyes that you are relieved to hear truth." With that, he inspected my son’s oozing, swollen toe (no charge).

Two days later I was in Colorado lying on a bed next to my friend Ginny, whose 14-year siege of illness—breast cancer, Ménière’s disease, and parasites, to name a few—would defeat the average mortal. But she bounces back again and again, luminously and incongruously beautiful, full of laughter and wisdom, as she was that morning, miraculously well for the first time in a month. "I don’t understand this any better than I ever have," she said, "but I do know that we are living out of love, moment to moment, or we’re not. It’s that simple."

People like Patch and Ginny are making radical and courageous choices: choosing love over fear, joy over cynicism, activism over inertia, truth over denial. They also offer support and empower others to grow.