There’s a unique kind of light that some people bring into a room—magnetic, warm, and deeply rooted in purpose. Richard Waring is one of those people. That’s why I invited him in for a portrait session. He’s not the type to ask someone to take his picture, but he radiates the kind of energy that begs to be bottled and preserved.

I’ve always found myself caught up in his words. I think he’s a poet, though he doesn’t always feel comfortable enough to show it. (See what I did there?) He journals nightly, and his stories, philosophies, and reflections on life are always deeply inspiring.

His passion is to help people. “It hasn’t changed a lot over the last 20 years,” he said with a smile. “That’s what gets me going.”

I’ve only known him for a few years, but I think he’s always had a mentor’s aura. He operates not in an overly structured way but through simple acts of encouragement, guiding others toward their dreams. Sometimes, he explained, it’s about giving someone a roadmap. Other times, it’s just showing them that they already have the tools they need to get where they want to go.

“Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you,” he added. Like many, that’s his guiding philosophy. His mother, now 84 and still actively giving to others, instilled that in him. “She’s always looking for ways to encourage somebody,” he said, and that kind of everyday generosity is what he strives to embody.

Richard is a listener—not just to the advice of his mother, but to the people around him. When talking to him, you can tell that each and every word registers with him. He told me one of the best pieces of advice he’s picked up along the way is: If you have to do it afraid, do it anyway.

He laughed when I asked how often he takes that advice. “Almost every day,” he said. “You’re always stepping into something new, meeting new people, learning new things. There’s always a little bit of fear, but if you move forward with the right intention, you can live with the results.”

That struck a chord with me. In my work as a portrait photographer, I often find myself navigating that same fear. Every new session comes with the hope of meeting and exceeding expectations—of making someone feel truly seen. I shared that with Richard, and we found common ground in the nervous energy of wanting to do right by others, even if it means defying every introverted tendency that swells inside of him in favor of putting on a huge, infectious smile and telling an epic dad joke in a way that only he can do.

So it surprised me a little, but also not really, when he told me that most people misunderstand how shy he is. “Some people pick up on it, but yeah, ever since I can remember.” He grew up the youngest of five, with siblings significantly older than him, so solitude was familiar. “I kind of learned to rely on myself for company and entertainment,” he said. But that quiet introspection never stopped him from showing up for others. Maybe it drove him toward it.

These days, his motivation is simple but profound: to set a good example for his 21-year-old son. “Most days aren’t easy, but we’ve got to find the grit and the good in each day,” he said. The love and commitment he has for his son reflects one of his most cherished childhood memories. One of his favorite things to do as a child was pick strawberries. Some of his happiest memories are immortalized in the days he’d hop off the school bus and see his grandfather waiting for him holding a small Cool Whip container so they could go pick strawberries from the garden. “That sticks with me,” he said. So much so that he named his son Richmond in honor of his grandfather.

Growing up the youngest in a large family can take its toll on any kid’s self-esteem, but those moments with his grandfather helped build him back up. When I asked Richard what advice he’d give to someone struggling with self-acceptance, he leaned forward and chose his words with care. “There’s beauty in everything, in everybody,” he said. “Sometimes it doesn’t look the way you think it should, but someone sees it. I’d challenge that person who struggles to find that beauty in themselves.”

That’s a message that resonates deeply with me. It’s the foundation of what I do as a portrait photographer—showing people their own beauty from a perspective they might not have considered before.

“We’ve got these social norms now that throw people off,” he went on. I agreed wholeheartedly. “What we accept as normal isn’t really normal. It’s highly polished. Real beauty is in how you treat people—it’s your heart, your intentions.”

Maybe that’s why he’s always been so generous with his compliments. He sees something in people that they likely don’t see in themselves. We found a common spark in that idea, too. On the other hand, it might not be surprising that neither of us can seem to figure out how to graciously accept a compliment. I mean that in the most respectful way. When I asked him to tell me one compliment that really meant a lot to him, that really stuck with him, he took his time considering the question. While I think he knew what it was all along, that pause told me everything I needed to know about where his focus has always been: on others. 

When he answered, it surprised me again. The best compliment wasn’t about his work, his character, or his impact—it came from his son and, ultimately, was about his son. When Richmond was five years old, Richard remembers after a Halloween night of trick-or-treating, “he looked at me and said, ‘This is the best day I’ve ever had.’” Seventeen years later, those words and that memory still make Richard glow. 

Finally, when I asked him what he’s most proud of, his answer was immediate: Resilience. “I won’t quit on anything,” he said. “Even if it’s hard, even if it’s disappointed me, even if I’ve disappointed myself—I keep going.” He credits that to his mother, the powerful but solitary matriarch of five kids. “She always found a way. And I don’t think it would be fair to her if I developed a quitter’s mentality.”

I knew when I met Richard a few years ago that I’d been given a glimpse into something rare—the kind of character that doesn’t ask for recognition but leaves a lasting impact anyway. Our session and conversation only reaffirmed that. Some people really don’t know how good they are. Maybe that’s the source of the kind light they emit.

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Kind Light Charleston is an emerging professional headshot and personal portrait photography studio based in Charleston, South Carolina. I’m always looking for people to highlight in my blog, so if you know someone who shines a kind light in this world, I want to meet them! Reach out to josh@kindlightcharleston.com.