This month, I’m being intentional about practicing generosity as part of the Paramita Project. I’d love for you to join me!
The first of the ten paramitas is generosity, and it’s considered the foundation of all the other qualities. Generosity requires an openness to others, and without this basic posture of openness, we are very limited in our growth. The Pali and Sanskrit word for generosity is dana. It can be compared to the Latin word caritas and the Arabic word zakat, one of the four pillars of Islam. Both of these words are most often translated as charity, but they communicate the kind of care and consideration for others that is central to the practice of dana. This generosity is freely given, whether it’s time, money, material goods, a listening ear, or a smile. It is given without expectation or need for return, or even acknowledgment. In this way, dana is the practice of selflessness.
Selflessness is one way we practice living into the truth that we are all connected. It is the act of taking ego out of the equation. By ego, I mean that sense of self-righteousness that often comes along for the ride when we are generous. We would like to be acknowledged for this very good thing we did! But when this happens, we haven’t moved entirely into the realm of generosity. There is still too much “me” and “you” in it. True generosity comes when we realize it’s just us, all of us, and we allow what is needed to move freely in such a way that de-centers the boundaries between us. (If we want to go even farther, we can also say it’s the realization that all is one, and there isn’t even an “us!”)
One of the reasons we practice generosity is to become aware of our attachments. For me, these past two weeks, it has been humbling to realize how much I’m attached to things reflexively that I don’t actually care that much about. Why am I grasping? Where does that need for clinging come from? So generosity becomes the practice of living in the mindset of abundance, and refusing to allow the ghosts of scarcity to elicit fear within us. That fear makes us miserly and unkind. And it’s also lying to us. The world is brimming with abundance.
On a deeper level, though, we also begin to realize that one of our strongest attachments is to the idea of separateness, of you vs. me, us vs. them. This kind of scarcity doesn’t just make us miserly; it sends us to war, to violence, to outrage. This kind of scarcity is deeply destructive. It may seem simplistic to believe that a smile or bringing food to a friend or volunteering a few hours of your time has any chance against the monsters of destruction, but when we look at moments and seasons of transformation that have happened in the darkest places, it has always begun with small gestures of generosity. It has been someone in a concentration camp sharing bread. It has been a nurse tending to one sick body after the next in a time of crisis. It has been a leader like Nelson Mandela who is so committed to love that he is able to offer it to his oppressors through a smile.
I can feel overwhelmed when I think of the power of those acts and the humility and lack of skill with which I’m practicing generosity in my own life. But it also reminds me that generosity is so worth it. Generosity comes from the same root as generation, and both words describe a creative force. Generosity is a creative force for good in a world too often marred by violence and evil. Every time we practice even the smallest act of generosity, we send love into the earth’s equation.
Here is what is really beautiful, too: because we are all connected, when we practice generosity, we also receive it. The openness and kindness we extend to others also becomes more present within us. And because we experience it, we can continue to share it. Abundance indeed.
May we practice generosity in small and beautiful ways this week. And may we find kindness for ourselves in the many moments when the ghosts of scarcity get the best of us.
