The Perfection of
Giving
Sister
Ocean Buddhistdoor
Global | 2016-03-24 |
“If
beings knew, as I know, the results of giving & sharing, they
would not eat without having given, nor would the stain of
selfishness overcome their minds. Even if it were their last bite,
their last mouthful, they would not eat without having shared, if
there were someone to receive their gift”
- Iti 1.26 (Itivuttaka [The
Buddha’s sayings], p. 18)
Dana (“generosity”) is one of the
ten paramis (Skt. paramitas), or “perfections of
virtue.” There are many ways to practice generosity—by giving
material goods, money, time, energy, work, and love. Letting go of
material possessions helps to diminish attachment and craving, and
so this teaching is often emphasized. In an age of
over-consumption, generosity is a much-needed practice to
counteract both individual and collective greed.
As practitioners of the Buddha’s path, we can also
go further by understanding the interdependent relationship of
giver and receiver. There is virtue in giving away what you have,
but there is also virtue in allowing others to give, by receiving.
The first time my notions of giving and receiving were turned
upside down was when I was traveling in India in 2004. I was in a
taxi with a wealthy woman who lived in the town I was visiting, a
friend of a friend. I had only been in India a few weeks and it was
a swelteringly hot day just before the monsoon. At a stop light, a
young girl came up to the window and asked for money. She was about
ten years old, wearing a tattered pink dress coated in dust and
dirt. Her eyes were at the same time both hungry and bored. The
woman rolled down the window to give her a few rupees and the girl
ran off.
Strangely, I found myself stunned that the girl
didn’t say thank you. In Canada, I was raised to always say
“please,” “thank you,” and “you’re welcome” to everyone. Whenever I
gave money or food to someone begging in Canada, it was always
received with a “thank you,” or at least a nod and a smile. I asked
the woman about this, because the interaction felt strange to me.
The woman said that in the Hindu concept of karma, a person who
gives money to someone begging receives merit and thus the little
girl had allowed her to gain
merit. The girl didn’t need to
say "thank you" since it was the woman who had received the most
from the interaction. This was very different from the Eurocentric,
materialistic worldview that I had been raised with. I saw for the
first time that while I thought I practiced generosity freely, I
still expected something in return, albeit something as small as a
smile. This was the first time I saw that my giving was not as free
as I thought it was. Seeing this subtle layer of craving helped me
to understand a deeper layer of freedom—that of giving without even
needing a “thank you.” I can now see why, in many Buddhist
cultures, monastics do not say “thank you” when receiving
donations, as this ensures that no one makes offerings to build up
their pride. This was the beginning of my changed understanding of
generosity, from a unidirectional flow of materials and energy to a
reciprocal relationship.
This shift deepened in 2007, when I found myself
diagnosed with cancer. I was 29 years old. After four years of
traveling and studying meditation, I was once again living with my
mother and quite ill. While traveling, I had cultivated a long list
of family and friends that I kept in touch with through group
e-mails. So I wrote an e-mail about my situation asking these
people to send prayers and healing energy to me. However, before
sending the e-mail, I paused for a moment. Many people are quite
private about health matters, and I wondered whether this was in
fact something I might want to keep to myself. But I knew I needed
all the support I could get, so I hit “send.” The outpouring of
love that I received over the internet was overwhelming and
incredibly healing. I felt that I was the clear recipient in this
situation. But bit by bit, friends and family started writing to
me, not only sending their love and prayers but also thanking me
for sharing my experience and allowing them to offer something,
even prayers, from thousands of kilometers away. It was a true
relationship of dana, a loving expression of
our interdependence. I saw how important it is not only to give,
but also to allow others the chance to give, even if we feel a
little embarrassed or awkward in receiving. We can learn to be
honest and vulnerable with those we are close to and step into a
flow of giving and receiving that has no expectations or
conditions, even if it feels challenging at first. The fruits are
certainly worth the effort.
It is important to cultivate generosity to deflate
the ego’s pride, but we must also be careful that we don’t mask our
pride in false humility. Traditional practices
of dana that point to diminishing
craving and pride are not ends unto themselves. They serve as a
doorway to an embodied experience of anatta (Skt.anatman, or
“non-self”)—our interdependent, true nature. When your joy is my
joy and your well-being is my well-being, we are relating to each
other on a level that goes beyond the mundane worldview of self as
a separate entity, that goes beyond being different or being the
same. We can engage in an embodied experience of our Buddha Nature.
This is why I value the practice of dana so much.
My most recent experience with the inter-being of
giver and receiver came up at my birthday. I had asked friends to
bring a poem or song that carried a special meaning in their lives.
I received funny, touching, and insightful “gifts” from many
friends. Then, the next day, a friend who hadn’t been able to come
the night before took me aside to offer a poem. As she read it to
me, I realized that she was reading a poem that I’d written and
shared with her the year before. It all started when she found a
rough draft of a poem in the recycling bin. She figured out who had
written it, asked if I had any more, and I shared some poems with
her. I felt a little embarrassed, but didn’t want that to stop me
from practicing generosity. As she read the poem, her voice made it
her own. It became a whole new poem. It was a beautiful gift, yet
again challenged my ideas of giver and
receiver, once again bringing me
into the heart of inter-being—our interdependent nature. Who was
the giver? Who was the receiver? No matter. We were both consumed
in dana, delighting in both the giving
and the receiving, and there was no need to define or separate
ourselves.
In the next weeks, perhaps you might consider how
generosity shows up in your life. Does it fuel pride? Shame? Joy?
Frustration? Does it show up at all? Before you try to change
anything in your practice of dana, look deeply into your
experience and relationship to giving and receiving. Start to
recognize that even the air you breathe and the earth you tread
upon are gifts from the universe. When you can feel the immense
generosity that supports all of life, you are ready to go further.
Are there one or two ways you can bring more generosity into your
life? Maybe you could let someone board the train ahead of you or
give your seat to someone in need with a joyful heart. You can
offer a smile to the teller at the grocery store. And, of course,
you can make offerings to charities and temples knowing that it is
a privilege to do so. It needn’t be a heavy moral obligation. In
fact, duty and obligation are impediments to the perfection of
generosity. Generosity, practiced with mindfulness and
unconditional love, is a delight. May your giving be
fruitful!