“We each give from exactly what we have”

Thoughts on how to give with grace

Recently, I was (very ungraciously) bemoaning someone else’s lack of generosity to my husband, to which he simply responded: we each give from exactly what we have.

Disregarding how spiritually enlightened he sounded, I responded by saying “but this person has A LOT!!” I felt particularly petty when he clarified that he wasn’t referring to money. What he meant was that we each give from whatever capacity we have – whether that capacity be emotional, intellectual, energetic, material or spiritual. And on any given day that capacity might be apt to change.

I know this to be true of myself and so, of course, it must be true of others as well. I don’t think there’s anyone out there who considers themselves to be petty, penny-pinching or ungenerous. Yet, it’s something we either openly or privately seethe about in others – even about those closest to us. So how can that be? How can we all believe ourselves to be generous yet find ourselves bemoaning the lack of generosity in others? It’s a little like the conundrum of not knowing any men who would commit a sexual crime against a woman and yet one in every six women have had a sexual crime committed against them by a man. The math don’t math, baby. It ain’t adding up.

I think the answer lies in what my annoyingly zen buddha of a husband had to say about it. When we’re giving from a place of contraction, scarcity and deficit our generosity feels SO huge to us. It feels like giving birth to a couch. An L shaped couch, even. And yet, the recipient might feel robbed. It’s an optical illusion. They think you birthed a premature baby. They might not have even realised you were pregnant in the first place.

I’ve seen more than one person I know rant on instagram about how ungenerous people can be in the support of small business owners and their content (i.e. in support of them and their pursuits). Having noted this, I also noted (as a small business owner myself) that these very same people do not like, comment, share or subscribe to all of my stuff. And let me tell you – that is absolutely fine. (I said it’s FINE!).

But it does give me pause for thought. These people must have posted their rants feeling genuinely undervalued by their Instagram friends. They must have felt as though their generosity was in unquestionable abundance for others. Perhaps, all those dark moments spent fastidiously cross-checking who has and has not proffered love hearts for their instagram stories, has made giving love hearts to others feel like that L shape peeking through a cervix. To put it simply: it hurts. It lends itself to contraction and scarcity.

Pondering all of this, I had to wonder: when have I done this? When have I thought myself to be fabulously giving when in fact I might have been wandering around with egg on my face? And by egg, I mean looking miserly. When I got to thinking about it, it was extremely uncomfortable. The possibilities were endless. I thought about all the times I might have forgotten to give a gift because I was too overwhelmed by some private crisis in my life. Or the times I haven’t supported someone’s content because they seem to already have enough support (fuck ‘em!). All the times I’ve felt too riddled with anxiety to show up to the party or do the good deed, whatever it may be.

To this end, I have been trying in recent times to cultivate more generosity in my life. To try and open up that place inside myself that holds back the literal and metaphorical “like” for reasons that (honestly) sometimes don’t even make sense to me on a conscious level. I’ve been trying to resist the sometimes knee-jerk reaction to withhold giving for giving’s sake. In no small part, that’s been a result of this Substack. When people bother to pen a little note to me about my writing, or a stranger engages in Substack Notes with me, I can’t help but think how bloody generous it is. Not to be too kumbaya about it, but it makes me want to live more generously.

There’s also the matter of reciprocity to consider. I don’t mean to say that we should give from a place where we expect something specific in return. We all know that’s a fool's errand, ripe for bitter resentment to percolate with abandon. What I'm talking about is the more mystical and unknowable reciprocity that unfolds when we give. It’s not quite karma, but karma’s cousin.

In my business, for example, I’ve always been apt to give away knowledge and templates to any freelancer who comes knockin’. And I’m proud to say, there have been a few knocks! I never gate keep this IP. I hand it over knowing it will be copied. I encourage these often relative strangers (sometimes friends) to rip it all off! Why? Because I know they won’t deliver it in the same way that I do (they’ll have their own unique brand). I also believe there’s enough client work to go around for everyone. I really feel that to be true and so I give from that often illusive place of abundance.

In the last six to twelve months, I’ve realised that there’s a business offering there. I’ve realised I can turn these gifts I usually give into products I can sell. Without having offered these things to people for free, I doubt this venture would have materialised. It was never my intention but, cosmically, I’ve been served something in return. But the key here is that I didn’t expect it and no-one “gave” it to me. It’s just a wonderful consequence of not having a tightly curled fist.

I want to cultivate this approach in more areas of my life. I want what I feel “I have” to better reflect what I actually have – which is a shitload. Because sometimes this is all scarcity is – a perception.

And in times of deeper scarcity (when giving feels like an unholy type of childbirth) I’ll also be much better placed to accept the fact that in someone's eyes I’m being ungenerous, despite whatever burdens I am facing. That’s all the grace they’ll be capable of giving me. And that’s okay.