paper that showed me the addresses of where to go, and set off. For three years I watched my reactions to the very simple act of delivering food, and I learned a lot about myself.
People with chronic illnesses tend to be worse off financially, and it was certainly true of the folks on my route. I was required to drive in the “worst” part of town, and it was usually dark when I made my rounds. My first reaction was fear. After a few weeks, I became somewhat comfortable, and the fear mostly receded into the background. Sometimes if I were walking down the long, dark corridor of a welfare hotel, I would fear the thought of someone grabbing me, raping me, and infecting me with AIDS.
Most of the time, what I felt was pride. Wasn't I a “good” person to be doing such a thing? Wasn't I brave, generous, even saintly? Every time I delivered the meals, I had a story line about my virtuous behavior running in my head. I was so caught up with myself that on more than one occasion, I missed a chance to be truly helpful because I was so caught up in either my fear or my grandiose thoughts.
My goal with this story is to point out that giving triggers all kinds of thoughts and feelings. Examining them can be useful in our personal development—we learn more if we adopt an “Oh, isn't that interesting,” approach to what we discover instead of bludgeoning ourselves with “Aren't I terrible?” My experience with the meals showed me how much I want to look good—especially to myself.
What should you do with what you discover about yourself? Acknowledge it—you really need to think of yourself as a good person. Have compassion for it. Don't try to fix or change it. Just hold the truth in the spaciousness of your being. By accepting it instead of denying it, pushing it away, trying to make it be different, or forcing yourself into some other position, you create the space for it to transform. Even if it never changes, at least you are aware of it and you're being generous regardless of your motivation. In the end, the good we do is much more significant than any mixed motives we might have.
Generosity Helps Us see There Is No Difference Between Giving and Receiving
Each day as we embrace the sun with love and joy,we can come to the realization that giving and receivingare the same. Therefore, we will give equallywithout reservation.
—AEESHA ABABIO-CLOTTEY AND KOKOMON CLOTTEY
In the book Beyond Fear, social worker Aeesha Ababio-Clottey tells this story. Every day, on her way to and from work, she passed the same homeless person begging at the entrance to the subway. Rushing past, she would never even look at him, much less put a penny in his cup. One evening, she was a dime short for the ticket that would get her home. “1 looked around,” she wrote, “and everyone was in a hurry, trying to get home…. And as I looked, people avoided eye contact, with the unspoken message: Don't ask me!”
Finally, in her desperation, she turned to the beggar and asked to borrow a dime. He insisted she take a quarter. Then she inquired if he had a place to live and told him about the treatment center where she worked and how she could help him. “I'm quite happy, thank you,” he replied. “I meet all kinds of people here, and I really enjoy myself and I don't want to change it.”
What a morality play! The professional “giver,” the social worker, has ignored the professional “receiver,” the beggar, for months. Then she ends up having to receive from him, and discovers that while he has no use for what she has to give, he has what she needs.
It's easy in the giving position to assume a sense of superiority—I, in my benevolence, will assist you, you poor thing. This creates all kinds of problems: The receiver can fall into a sense of inferiority and dependence that often creates anger and resentment, while the giver develops an inflated ego and a false sense of independence. When we remember that at any given moment we might be in need of help, though, we can then offer our services on a more equal level.
As we open our hearts, we come to see that there is really no difference between giving and receiving. They are just two sides of the experience because neither can exist without the other. It is like imagining breathing without both the inhaling (receiving) and the exhaling (giving). Perhaps if we had a word for the experience of giving that encompasses both aspects, we would see it for what it truly is—one act with two parts, both honorable, both crucial.
Giving fills Us Like Getting Cannot
For many years, I was a man riding an ox,looking for an ox to ride on.
—MEISTER ECKHART
Ionce was talking about the nature of addiction with an acquaintance who is, by her definition, a food addict. She said that she overate because she felt there was a hole in the center of her being. “The difference between me and you, Mary Jane,” she said, “is that you know the hole can't be filled and I keep thinking it can be filled with food.”
For me, this was one of those remarks that comes with lights around it: Pay attention, this is important. I've thought a lot about that hole over the years, and I am convinced that most of us have this sense of emptiness. We spend our lives trying to fill the hole with money, prestige, power, or even material objects. We think that if we get enough stuff, the hole will be filled and our desire will be satiated.
This approach is not surprising, considering we live in a culture that survives on our consumerism. The economy booms when sales surge because we're throwing our money around; the economy falters when sales drop because we rein ourselves in. Every single day, on the radio, TV, the Internet, billboards, and in magazines and newspapers, we are encouraged and enticed to buy, buy, buy. Brilliant people create very sophisticated ads to convince us that if only we had this car, this computer, this Internet server, this toothpaste, or this brand of soap, we would be happy and fulfilled. It's only natural that we are focused on getting the red Porsche, the 4,000-square foot house, or the Ben & Jerry's ice cream.
Our desire will never disappear, because stuff can't fill the hole, no matter how much we get. Books and magazines are always filled with stories of folks who “had it all” and yet were miserable. Our desires may change—we get the beautiful girl, the horse, or the million dollars in the bank, so now we want more friends, a child, or a vacation home—but they don't go away because desire is a natural part of the human condition. The problem isn't with our desire but, like the reasoning of my friend the overeater, in thinking that the things we desire will fill the hole.
The answer is found in giving, not getting. If we tap into the natural sense of abundance that exists in each of us instead of focusing on filling the hole, we will be filled. It's a paradox—by focusing on getting, we remain forever empty; by focusing on giving, we become full. This idea is hard to accept because it goes against our cultural upbringing. I know that part of me is still convinced that the hole is not filled because I just haven't gotten the right things. If I did, this part says, then I would be happy.
As I have both gotten more and given more, I've realized that generosity is the true creator of happiness and peace of mind. As the Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield once said, “Do you know any really generous people who aren't happy?” The real way to discover this truth, however, is to try it yourself. Try opening your heart and giving, particularly when you feel the hole in the center of your being. Magically it disappears, at least for a little while, as the love from your heart pours into it, and into the world.
Giving Allows Us to Offer Our Unique Gifts
Every person born in this world representssomething new, something that never existed before,something original and unique.
—MARTIN BUBER
The ancient Greeks and Romans believed each human was born with a tutelary,
