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What do you give away?

People give away advice, time, sex, clothing, brides, secrets, pieces of their soul, professional services, to name a few. But these aren’t all equal. Any of these given away in excess can be a problem. But so can never giving them away (except maybe a bride, in my case).

So, how do you decide when giving something away is a good thing or a bad thing? Do you give the wrong stuff away, say, sex or advice, too easily? And maybe not enough of the good stuff, like your free time or excess veggies from your garden? Does giving away stuff make you feel proud or righteous? Or does giving something away make you feel crummy?

In life, there are few right and wrongs, which guarantees that life stays interesting, if uncertain. Giving away advice is only wrong if it’s unwanted, and if you never take it yourself. But giving away excess garlic presses is nearly always a good thing. Freeing yourself of unused and unwanted items doesn’t create only physical space but psychological space as well. It leaves you with a feeling of lightness of mind that didn’t exist. That space is now a vessel that can be filled with something more nourishing than stuff. It also reminds us that we don’t need as much, not to mention that others may need them more than we do.

Motives play a big role in giving things away. Some of us give pieces of ourselves away too freely and are left resentful. We do that because we’re insecure or fearful. We viewed a gesture as kind or maybe even a sacrifice, only to not get something in return. Is it the recipient’s fault? Or is it ours for giving it away with a motive attached (a motive we may not have realized was there)? A consultant can give away their proprietary services in the hopes of paying work down the road. Is that an act of generosity, a good tactic or a strategy that can backfire because it’s motivated by fear of loss?

Giving something away seems easier when we’re feeling abundant. But spiritual wisdom suggests the reverse—that giving something away creates a feeling of abundance. This is difficult if you operate as though there is not enough love, stuff, time, food or friendship to go around.

Are there things you give away out of fear? Are there things you don’t give away out of fear?

Art of Surrender Redux: The Garden

One must embrace irony. There is a lot of it in life, after all. Consider the garden if you will. In an effort to control my food source, I found a place to live where I could (in theory) enjoy the fruits (and vegetables) of my labor by having a garden.

Instead, it is a daily practice of surrender to a host of elements out of my control. My plants are gracious hosts to a wide variety of critters from nearly invisible to purring.

No book by the Dalai Lama or Eckhart Tolle will teach an essential lesson in letting go more than having a garden. Tending a garden requires relinquishing the foolish notion that you will reap a product at the end. Each morning, coffee in hand, I make my rounds to the plants like a nurse visiting her ICU patients, inspecting limbs, peering at their wounds, unleashing a few expletives (me, not the nurse most likely).

As a woman said to her husband who complained of flea beetles, “There’s a good way to get rid of the pests. Go to the grocery store and buy eggplant.”

Where’s the fun if you can’t suffer a little? Who learns anything if you can’t experience your hard work wither away one tiny bitefull at a time? The truly strong among us are strong, not for our victories but, for our losses. The truly wise among us are wise, not for the tomato we ate at the end but, for the garden path we walked.

Though a tomato would be nice.

The Art of Surrender

Everything is temporary, so make it beautiful and then make it disappear completely. —Tarin Towers

A recent thought to reflect on, given in yoga class, was to consider three qualities of yoga: discipline, self-study and surrender. We were asked to consider these three qualities in our practice and in our daily lives.

Did we experience them in equal amounts? And if not, did we notice any patterns in their fluctuations?

As often happens with these reflections, I both wince and smirk, as if my hand were caught in the spiritual cookie jar. My inner witness no longer allows me to get away with complacent thinking. These three qualities are woefully out of whack…most of the time. Chief among them is surrender. I need more self-study like I need a hole in the head. Discipline waxes and wanes—I berate myself for its lack, and at other times I fail to recognize my discipline because I take the activity for granted. But it is in surrender that I fall short.

As Eckhart Tolle points out, surrender does not mean giving up, being a door mat or never expressing your opinion. It means not resisting against what is. It’s our resistance that causes suffering, not the thing we are resisting. This all sounds rather lofty. But it’s a simple concept, profoundly difficult to apply. Some of us see surrender as loss of control. Instead, surrender is the embodiment of control (the good kind) because outside forces aren’t able to sway our thoughts and feelings. Often we stay stuck in non-surrender mode because we are righteously attached to a self-image.

For example, a person with a self-image of a caretaker may have difficulty letting go of control over every element of a holiday dinner. They may well be caring, but more likely, there’s an unexamined fear going on in the background—like the loss of their over-identification as a caretaker. Who would they be without the image?

A client, whose project is a rush, fails to reply to your emails. You break a leg before your tropical vacation and are forced watch others frolic. Your outdoor wedding is hampered by a downpour. Your succulent seedlings are attacked by slugs. You can’t sit down to paint or draw because you’re plagued by fears of not good enough. While resisting in these situations can result in frustration and disappointment, true surrender can elicit a sense of freedom. It may even reveal an otherwise missed opportunity.

Many creative types are too attached to results and so, they don’t bother creating. This made me think of the many types of temporary art where surrender is a built-in ingredient. From Andy Goldsworthy‘s work in twigs, sand and ice, sidewalk chalk art, to sand sculptures—they all disappear because of the elements. Some temporary art is deliberately destroyed, like Burning Man sculptures, Tibetan sand mandalas and even gorgeous cakes (I tried to get permission to post a Goldsworthy photo but this is better). Though indulging in this last one doesn’t count as difficult surrender! A high-school friend and artist at heart, with little time to create, is making Daily White Board drawings and erasing the results. When I asked her what was appealing about this process, she said, “Erasing reminds me that life is fleeting… move on, enjoy the moment…” Indeed.

(Clockwise from upper left) Tibetan monk erasing a mandala, a DaVinci sand sculpture, a cake in homage to Andy Goldsworthy, sidewalk art in NY city.

The beauty of simple

As I stared at my growing stack of books yesterday, the ones full of important ideas I should stuff into my brain, I was distracted by my seedlings. I planted seeds just five days earlier and all were sprouting. Some were meant to go directly into the ground but, just for kicks, I stuck a few beans and corn kernels in the soil plugs, in addition to a variety of herbs and tomatoes. Ever since I started this activity a few years ago, the seemingly endless grey, rainy season in the Northwest has been more bearable.

It’s often said that the best things in life are free, or at least don’t cost that much. This can’t be more true for sprouting seeds indoors. It’s cheap entertainment. Aside from a few bucks for seeds and seedling mix, all you need are some containers and a sunny window. Lifting up the plastic dome each morning is like peering into a living jewelbox. Got bored kids or kids glued to their electronic devices? If I hadn’t had anything else to do yesterday, I would have been happy to stare at my Italian romano beans growing. Below is what happened over five hours.

Today the sprout is four-and-a-half inches tall. I have corn growing right next to it. Corn! I couldn’t have imagined corn growing in my suburban Maryland neighborhood where I grew up. It makes me wonder what other unquestioned, limiting ideas I have.

Though I get immense pleasure watching the simple, but profound, life span of a minescule seed turn into large, red tomato, I can’t help but wonder if that giddiness is a sign of too much of a lack of it in other corners of our lives. Most of us know the delight we get from the simple and the unexpected. So why is it that we continue to plan for the complicated?

The best laid plans…

…of mice and men go oft awry (English translation) from a poem by Robert Burns called “To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough.” It was the inspiration for the title of John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. 

This is just another way of suggesting we live in the present, a practice that is worthy if only because, as implied above, we have little control over outside circumstances that can conspire to cheat us of our desired results.

That’s not always a bad thing, and it may even better than achieving our primary goal. But most of us are so focused on the hoped-for prize that we don’t notice we might have gotten something even better by not getting the prize. This is true whether it’s taking a trip, planting a garden or drawing a picture.

Often we are so sure what our primary goal is, and for good reason. Some situations depend on good planning and intended result. Without them, we  might be acting carelessly. But assuming there is nothing huge at stake, how often do you find yourself focusing on what went wrong when you don’t get what you intended?

After a grueling breakup, for example, when you’ve picked up the pieces of your life, you might realize you are much better off. In fact, maybe the ending of that relationship caused you to try something you’d always wanted to do. We all know that what seems bad at first, naturally diminishes with time. And that any situation has its costs as well as its rewards. This is not to suggest that living on the street, for example, is preferable to living in a house. But living in a house does come with responsibilities like fixing leaky roofs and paying utility bills.

All things are not equal. But not all things are as unequal as we think.

Appropriate mourning and adjustment periods aside, what if we recognized not six months or a year later that we aren’t so bad off, but in the moment? What if we remembered that there is always a positive outcome, even if we don’t quite know what it is going to be at that moment?

If you’ve ever been a slump after losing a major project or been annoyed that your trip to Venice was derailed because of train strike, you probably know the amount of negative mental energy you expended. Perhaps this lasted only a few minutes. Other times our obsessive thoughts last hours or even days. But losing that major project might have meant a summer free from working nights and weekends to meet a crazy deadline. Not making it to Venice might have meant discovering an untrammeled little town with phenomenal food.

To some, brushing off unintended results might be second nature. But to others, the primary aim might often seem like a non-negotiable. This idea hit home to me when I first started becoming aware that all undesirable situations have some positive outcome. Once I realized that the secondary results were as good or perhaps better than the primary goal (which are almost always different from one another and, therefore, easy to miss), I started paying more attention.

Then I began putting the idea into action before the primary goal (say, winning a major project) was in sight. I found that simply because of that mental shift—that reminder that if I didn’t get A, then (unknown) B will happen—the amount of obsessing over the loss was greatly diminished. Don’t get me wrong, I still get very disappointed. Often it’s at those small irritations in life, like a store being closed when you most need something. 

But since life almost seems to guarantee that our best laid plans will go awry, a little practice in non-attachment can go a long way. You never know which unintended goodie you’re missing while you’re spending your time kicking yourself.

Service With a Smile

“Hello beautiful,” the hostess at an airport restaurant said as I approached the hostess stand. I was aroused from my airport stupor at the unfamiliar phrase. I hadn’t even been in the airport that long. I was simply tired and hungry and had opted for a later flight (and a free round trip ticket voucher) and had time to sit and enjoy a meal.

Her simple, yet rare these days, hospitality gave me a jolt. Immediately, my shoulders loosened and I smiled.

“Can I have a…,” I started to say, before she cut me off.

“I’ve got you covered sweetheart. A table with an outlet next to it. I see you’re a woman who’s a smart professional,” she said with a big smile.

I didn’t have a visible laptop case and don’t normally carry a computer, except on this trip I had one. I hardly looked professional and didn’t feel particularly smart in that moment.

I sat near the hostess stand and listened to her greet everyone who entered the restaurant. The most sour-looking frowns morphed into smiles upon her greeting. Later I called her over and asked what was her secret. How did she get to be so positive? A year ago she was out of work and was flipping through the channels on her TV. Today, she as a job and feels blessed.

“I meet the most beautiful people in this place. All the people coming and going from interesting places. What is not to feel positive about? I love people. I love my job.”

What I forgot to do was tell her boss to give that woman a raise.