Unfortunately, none of us can truly give of ourselves as long as the ego is attached to any of our activity. This is because any activity sourced from the ego will always play itself out as a giving for the sake of getting something in return. The moment this happens, unity gives way to separation as a result of our craving for something other than what we already have. In other words, rather than giving freely from a place of deeply surrendered recognition that all things are a simple interconnected Oneness, ego turns the situation into a basic negotiation.
For example, the ego thinks to itself, “I’ll give you this so I will gain your favor.” Or, “I’ll donate this so that I can avoid feeling guilty.” While neither of these two statements will normally be expressed overtly, they are often a subtle reality that prevents the expression of true giving, of true compassion, since the ego is looking to get something in return for its offering—either more praise or less guilt. At their core, these actions are about getting rather than giving. Because of this, well-intentioned giving is often only partial in its expression.
We do stuff like this all the time and convince ourselves that we are behaving in what we consider to be compassionate ways. Yet, authentic compassion arises only if there is no expectation, no wanting, and no craving of any “gain” in relation to giving. As a rule of thumb, notice if there is any craving for yourself in any situation where you find the opportunity to give. If any personal gain informs any of your giving, your ego co-opts what could be a purely compassionate expression and transforms it into something that veils the Infinite from your experience.
This issue came up in a discussion I had with one of my meditation students. In our exchange I was made aware of how strongly this particular lady felt about getting thank you notes. It was around the holidays, and she brought up the issue of manners and how important it is for kids to learn them. I happen to agree that manners, and written expressions of gratitude, are important ways for us to show we care about other people and their efforts of kindness. But I was most interested in the lady’s personal sense of being slighted after not getting what she wanted after her acts of generosity.
“So when you didn’t get the thank you note from your grandson, you felt let down?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “I felt let down by my daughter for not teaching him to write notes like I’d taught her to do when she was young. And when I don’t get the slightest recognition for a gift, it makes me not want to give as much in the future.”
I could tell this was important to her. The script, in other words, that her ego was delivering so eloquently on her Stage of Mind came from a deep place.
“So where is the grasping in all of this for you?” I asked.
She paused, looked at the floor for a moment, and then took a very deep breath. Her lower lip quivered slightly, then she said, “I want to feel love reflected back to me when I give it—I guess I’m attached to that feeling. I always seem to want more of it. Or maybe I want to avoid feeling unloved. I don’t know.”
I sat silently looking at her.
“I guess,” she said slowly, “that’s pretty much my small self running amok, isn’t it?” She smiled. “When I look at it now, it seems that expectation is always in there when I offer gifts. I always want to get something back. And that’s not giving, is it?”
“Sure it is. It’s just that it’s partial giving rather than complete giving,” I said.
“It’s negotiation,” she said, eyes wide.
“You think?” I asked her, knowing that she was uncovering a great insight.
“Yes, and negotiation is like a cooperative way of grasping,” she paused. Then, after a moment she nodded saying, “My small self seems to need them to show their love for me in a certain way.”
Her gaze then met mine. She said, “Can’t get more egotistical than that.”
We sat in silence together for a few more minutes. Before she got up, we bowed to each other. Whether she knew it or not, she had just climbed much higher up the Mountain.
