Giving Heart. M. J. Ryan

imagining breathing without both the inhaling (receiving) and the exhaling (giving). Perhaps if we had a word for the experience of giving that encompasses both aspects, we would see it for what it truly is—one act with two parts, both honorable, both crucial.

Giving fills Us Like Getting Cannot

       For many years, I was a man riding an ox,looking for an ox to ride on.

      —MEISTER ECKHART

      Ionce was talking about the nature of addiction with an acquaintance who is, by her definition, a food addict. She said that she overate because she felt there was a hole in the center of her being. “The difference between me and you, Mary Jane,” she said, “is that you know the hole can't be filled and I keep thinking it can be filled with food.”

      For me, this was one of those remarks that comes with lights around it: Pay attention, this is important. I've thought a lot about that hole over the years, and I am convinced that most of us have this sense of emptiness. We spend our lives trying to fill the hole with money, prestige, power, or even material objects. We think that if we get enough stuff, the hole will be filled and our desire will be satiated.

      This approach is not surprising, considering we live in a culture that survives on our consumerism. The economy booms when sales surge because we're throwing our money around; the economy falters when sales drop because we rein ourselves in. Every single day, on the radio, TV, the Internet, billboards, and in magazines and newspapers, we are encouraged and enticed to buy, buy, buy. Brilliant people create very sophisticated ads to convince us that if only we had this car, this computer, this Internet server, this toothpaste, or this brand of soap, we would be happy and fulfilled. It's only natural that we are focused on getting the red Porsche, the 4,000-square foot house, or the Ben & Jerry's ice cream.

      Our desire will never disappear, because stuff can't fill the hole, no matter how much we get. Books and magazines are always filled with stories of folks who “had it all” and yet were miserable. Our desires may change—we get the beautiful girl, the horse, or the million dollars in the bank, so now we want more friends, a child, or a vacation home—but they don't go away because desire is a natural part of the human condition. The problem isn't with our desire but, like the reasoning of my friend the overeater, in thinking that the things we desire will fill the hole.

      The answer is found in giving, not getting. If we tap into the natural sense of abundance that exists in each of us instead of focusing on filling the hole, we will be filled. It's a paradox—by focusing on getting, we remain forever empty; by focusing on giving, we become full. This idea is hard to accept because it goes against our cultural upbringing. I know that part of me is still convinced that the hole is not filled because I just haven't gotten the right things. If I did, this part says, then I would be happy.

      As I have both gotten more and given more, I've realized that generosity is the true creator of happiness and peace of mind. As the Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield once said, “Do you know any really generous people who aren't happy?” The real way to discover this truth, however, is to try it yourself. Try opening your heart and giving, particularly when you feel the hole in the center of your being. Magically it disappears, at least for a little while, as the love from your heart pours into it, and into the world.

Giving Allows Us to Offer Our Unique Gifts

       Every person born in this world representssomething new, something that never existed before,something original and unique.

      —MARTIN BUBER

      The ancient Greeks and Romans believed each human was born with a tutelary, or guardian, spirit inside of us, a being that embodied our true essence. It was our task in life to set this spirit free so that our unique gifts could become manifest. The Greeks called this being a person's daemon, the Romans called it the genius (from the same Latin root as generosity—genere, which means to beget or produce.) Socrates, for example, was believed to have a daemon who would speak up if he was about to do something that went counter to his essence. In Rome, it was customary to offer a sacrifice to your genius on your birthday, not to only receive gifts for yourself on that day but to give something to your guiding spirit. According to their beliefs, this being comes to us when we are born and it carries the fullness of our undeveloped potential. If you cultivate your gifts, the genius will become a household god when you die. If you ignore your potential, it will turn into a larva upon your death, a ghost that preys on the living.

      These ancient beliefs match my own—we each are born with unique gifts to offer the world (genius is a synonym for gift), and our task in life is to discover our gifts and actualize them. This task is like a hero's journey more than any kind of small feat. As Marianne Williamson once said, “It takes more courage sometimes to face our greatness than it does to face our weakness.”