What happens when we give freely and generously? Parsimoniously and hesitantly? The objective reality may be much the same, but the subjective experience of the act of giving and its effects on our inner life may be quite different.
I was lucky enough to participate on a walking during my winter holiday while in London in the winter of 2013/2014. The tour was a great way to see the city and gain understanding of its long history, complete with all the amusing and sometimes salacious bits they don't teach you in most history courses. And, what's more, it was offered gratis!
At the end, the guide--quite rightly--forwarded a request for tips. In a burst of gratitude and heady generosity, I fished out a £10 note and dropped it into the coffer.
I was immediately of two minds about what I had done. On the one hand, I had given to our guide a small token when considering that this tour was easily the most amusing and interesting part of that leg of our London expedition; I was pleased to do this. On the other hand, as a little voice pointed out to me, the average person would see this as an imprudent amount. After all, the tour was to be free. What I should have done, clearly, was to offer a pound or two. Some change from my pocket. A Tic Tac. A stick of gum a la Home Alone II.
I felt myself vacillate between experiencing satisfaction at having offered what was in my pocket to someone who shared his knowledge with people in a fun and engaging way and self-reproach for immoderacy.
Now, you might ask: Wouldn't a £5 note have sufficed? Perhaps. Heck, most certainly. But my action here was not a judgment; it was a choice. And this means it was rooted in my values, not in rationalization.
This distinction is something Dr. Steven Hayes talks about in his book Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life. He contends that our values are best conceptualized as arbitrary choices we make that are meaningful to us personally. These guidelines become codified to some extent, not as a rationalized list of rules but as our personal point of reference for later choices.
If we accept this operating definition of values, then, to me, a value is not the same as the painstaking process of weighing pros and cons of a situation to come out ahead or of making a judgment in the usual sense of the word. Neither still is it being a slave to a strict list of immutable rules of ethics or decorum that seem to have existed since time immemorial or that move of their own accord, outside of us. Often when we hear the term "value" or "values," the latter comes to mind. My definition of values, influenced by Dr. Hayes and other teachers, requires that a value be a choice we make and then codify because it brings us satisfaction to do so.
We examine our choices--our values--as steps on a path toward a life leading to our sense of fulfillment, our greatest good. And this is as arbitrary as choosing vanilla over chocolate, the pancakes over the French toast. So long as our choice leads us on the path toward our greatest good, our purest light, it's the right one.
So--what does this have to do with From Joy, From Obligation?
Well, everything, really.
When I was acting from my values and passing on my prosperity to someone who had given us his time, expertise, and creative goodwill, I was coming from a place of joy, of spiritual abundance. I may not have as much in my pocket as some, but at that moment, I had more joy in my heart than many. When I allowed myself to turn my ear to the little voice of judgment that whispered, "Oh, jeez, Donny, what is it you think you're doing? Is that really a good idea? What are you going to do at lunchtime?" I temporarily lost my connection to the flow of good experience and abundance the Universe (capital U) had waiting for me.
As it turns out, I found a little corner shop selling a sandwich and drink combo I could buy with my last few coins, and I was fine. I didn't want anything more extravagant than just this.
And I got to give! And, as I wrote yesterday, I love the quote from Isabel Allende that we only have that which we give. I got to exercise my agency, my choice to provide what I had to someone.
This was based in my value--my belief--that people who offer a creative service of value and do so happily should be richly rewarded. Our tour guide gave us the best account of London's history I heard the whole time I was there. And he did so in a way that we could relate to, that delighted the people in our group, and that was easy to grasp for people who knew little about British history or for whom English was a second language.
My act of giving was an exercise of true agency when it was joyful and rooted in my values, an arbitrary choice rather than one based on logic or outside ideas. What may have been superfluous for others was precisely right for me.
How different an experience when we do something out of obligation. Because we have to. Suddenly, handing over even a £5 note or giving a little of our time is agonizing. We don't have that much to give. The cupboard is bare; we are busy. There isn't even enough for us, and yet here this person is, requiring from us some portion of what we ourselves lack. The nerve! The unfairness of it all! The misery...
We only truly have what we give as Isabel Allende reminds us. I would go so far believe we don't really own it anyway. None of it. Not really. And yet all of it is ours. We get to use it when we need it. We get to have it when we allow it to flow through us.
The moment we become convinced we lack, the din of poverty thinking drowns out our joy and inundates us with a miserable and miserly feeling. This, it goes without saying, feels icky.
I made the choice that day to feel happy, joyful, of my choice to pass on what I could. I found a good choice for lunch (brown bread!!!!) and I lived to tell the tale. Handing over my last £10 was not a problem after all. The Universe (capital U, or Life, or God, if you like) had me covered. I just had to be joyful and willing and let it flow through me instead of being avaricious.
Looking back on it now, this was for me an important lesson in operating from joy (love) rather than from obligation (fear). I didn't see the significance of it at the time but now it is quite clear. Passing on my own wealth resulting in my being released that much more from the notion of possessing something that could be lost. Looking at it all as borrowed anyway makes sense to me when considering my values. Amassing wealth or stuff or time--or whatever it might be that seems limited--and keeping it locked away negates its value.
Unless you can swim in it like Scrooge McDuck. In that case, I'll bring my swim trunks and we'll go for a dip.
And so it is. All is well in the world.
