Circles of Sharing

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FrontCircles150Is it really better to give than to receive?

Jo Ann Lordahl explores those conflicting emotions we experience as adults when we try to accept gracefully,take (or ask for) what we need and deserve, allow others to take from us, and give with a purity of action.

Lordahl’s insightful interviews disclose countless memories of birthday, holiday, and special occasion gifts that missed the mark. Why do we carry with us through the growing years memories of the wrong doll under the Christmas tree or the perfectly planned present that hurt or angered rather than elicited pleasure? Or we call up fondly the memory of the doctor’s kit with the candy pills and the jack-in-the-box and its hand-cranked music?

Beneath our material culture lies the truth of who we are, what we really want, and how best we can find and share the person we truly are with those who reflect and value that inner spirit. Seek and you shall find what it is you want, what it is you have to give, and how to receive what is given to you.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Introduction …………………………………………………………………….    1

Chapter One: Giving –  Mother Teresa Lives in Us ……………..    6 

Chapter Two: Receiving –  Teach Yourself to Receive ………… 29 

Chapter Three: Taking –  A Skill And An Art …………………….   73

Chapter Four: Releasing –  Give From Your Fullness …………108 

Chapter Five: Sharing –Free To Love And To Be Yourself …134 

Appendix ……………………………………………………………………….. 195

 

INTRODUCTION

I happily acknowledge all those who shared with me and gave me the necessary courage to share with you, both their stories and my own. This creative participation was a moving, growing experience. These deeply personal stories, exposing inner selves, are both happy and painful. I learned from writing and pondering as I hope you will from reading and thinking.

I talked with many people about patterns of giving and found communality cutting across age, status, sex and race. Memories, stories and theories welled up from each person, and basic values came unleashed. Deeply touched, every life grew or shrank from some aspect of giving.

Some could not take, or receive, or even ask for what they wanted. Disappointing Christmases and birthdays abounded. And gifts they gave that didn’t bring expected rewards. Or baffling anger and dissatisfaction on many giving and gift occasions.

Giving frequently fails to live up to its joyous reputation. Hurt is often denied, yet sighs in the stories they tell, and bitterness, sorrow, bewilderment. And a dawning disillusionment with the supposedly unending benefits from material possessions and solitary pursuits.

Giving became more complex. After many cups of coffee, study and searching conversations, giving multiplied into four parts: giving and receiving, taking and releasing. This division brings a truly new slant on giving, lends a balanced interaction that is crucial and novel. While the appendix contains a fuller explanation, these easy definitions emerged:

Giving is the active process of giving things, time, love to others. Giving originates with the giver and is done freely. Think of the openheartedness of a child’s gift of laughter.

Receiving is the passive process of being given to, of allowing ourselves to receive what others give and want to give. Think of a compliment so on target that it sinks straight to our starved heart.

Taking is the active process of going for what we want, of allowing ourselves to take what we need and want, from those who have given us invitations. An invitation is crucial. Think of the hard task, for some people, of taking earned rewards – perhaps time off or a special chocolate delight. On the other side of taking, think of those who take what we don’t want to give.

Releasing is the passive process of allowing someone to take from us. We control this process; we can and do shut it down. Think of our joy in being taken from when a special friend or child chooses us as a role model or wants to learn a special skill.

Giving and taking are active processes with active psychological involvements. Taking is not the opposite of giving for rarely do you decide to take at the exact instant I choose to give. An active person usually gives to a passive receiver. (If the receiver were active they would be a taker). Or an active person takes from a passive person who allows themselves to release, to be taken from. Active and passive can be visualized as the tide actively moving in and out against the beach, while that which is floating on the tide passively moves back and forth.

In giving and releasing, the direction is from the person outward; one way or another s/he is giving up something. In taking and receiving the direction is inward, towards the person; they are incorporating something to themselves.

Our language encourages confusion. Remember that giving and taking are active processes that rarely coincide in time. To give we need a passive receiver, to take we need a passively behaving person who releases.

Visualize this balance of giving and receiving, taking and releasing as Christmas holiday chimes with gold angels that fly in a merry-go-round driven by underneith candle flames. Giving, receiving, taking, releasing are equal gold angels on the merry-go-round. Balance holds this system together, causes it to operate in a beautifully coordinating picture of flame and gold in movement. The candles are our wishes to make happier lives for ourselves and those we care for.

Viewing these Christmas holiday chimes as a complete system we can visualize the entire system as sharing (the gold angels of giving and receiving, taking and releasing; the energy of the candle flames and the movement their heat engenders).

More than giving, this book is about sharing. Sharing glorifies giving. Good use of giving and receiving, taking and releasing, that is, sharing, is the condition that lets us take care of ourselves, and others, equally.[1]

Now, before you read further, try ranking your order of difficulty: giving, receiving, taking, releasing. Which is easier for you? Harder?

1. Again, the appendix gives further information.

CHAPTER ONE

 

GIVING: MOTHER TERESA LIVES IN US

There are those who give little of the much which they have and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome. Kahlil Gibran

Try thinking up a gift, intimate enough to be person-to-person, significant enough to be president-to-president, and creative and lasting enough eventually to become a museum piece.     –     Bess Furman, House & Garden

Some gifts are gifts that aren’t gifts. They are bribes, necessities, trade-offs, clubs, rewards, consolation prizes and gifts to ourselves that masquerade as largess to others.

We may try to bribe someone to love us, to overwhelm them with our gifts and giving. But bribes don’t work, for love is a free gift that arrives of its own free will. Or love doesn’t come at all. Giving someone too much makes them uncomfortable. Then sooner than later the receiver begins blaming the giver for the awkwardness the gifts evoke.

Or, if the receiver continues selfishly willing to receive and receive, will we continue to love them? And continue giving? Where does self-preservation step in to stop us? How does an innocent lamb survive the cruel world; how do any of us survive youth?

A romantic man I know, open and trusting, tells me he’s devised a rule of three chances. The first time a person betrays his trust, he forgives them because after all everyone makes mistakes, it could happen to anyone. The second time he also forgives because life is very difficult and we don’t always know others’ priorities. But the third time is the last time and while he really does hate to do it – he describes his action as cutting off part of himself – he severs his emotional ties with that person.

Sometimes we are clever enough to recognize that our available, spendable, personal energy resources are limited. When we spend our energy in fruitless endeavors (people who are polluters, energy drainers, or who are simply too much work) we haven’t available the time, money or energy to spend in more productive ways. Either for ourselves, or for others.

When things don’t work out as we planned (people always let us down, we marry a series of alcoholics, we’re constantly in debt) we need to stop and ask ourselves the hard questions: What is it about me that keeps putting me here? How can I take responsibility for where I am, change what I don’t like?

We must begin – right now, no matter what our circumstances – to act as if we have faith in our own brains and capabilities. This means taking action on that faith, not just holding positive thoughts. It also means we stop, as much as possible, acting helpless or depending on others for our “answers.” This sounds harsh, but it works.[1]

* * *

“Would it be okay if you gave me only kisses and hugs for my birthday?”

“Yes, ” chorused the alert blond boys, one six, the other eight, gleeful surprise on their faces.

“What would you think if I gave you only a hug for your birthday?” Their father’s jarring bright blue eyes match theirs perfectly.

Disgust was very transparent; they’d been tricked. “Hugs aren’t worth anything,” smart six-year-old Adam burst out, as he dances up and down in his chair.

“Which are your favorite holidays?”

“Christmas, we get the most presents then. And on Christmas we get lots of toys. But you have to wait so long. It practically never comes. Birthday’s are good –  we get money and clothes. Easter is nice for candy and eggs. Last Easter we had an egg fight and Adam got it right in the face,” Matthew was enthusiastic. “And Halloween is nice and the tooth fairy. But Christmas is best, we get the best presents then. Except for Cousin Gordy.”

“What’s wrong with Cousin Gordy?”

“Mother makes us buy him good presents and Cousin Gordy gives us something stupid. Something that doesn’t cost anything. He never spends any money. Last time it was a dumb old book about flowers. He didn’t want it so he gave it to us.”

“Do you think gifts should be equal in value? How about your grandparents and me and Mommy and Santa Claus? Should you give us as much as we give you?”

“Of course not.” Adam and Matthew were scornful, everybody knew that kids were entitled.

Try talking frankly with children about giving if you want to peel away hypocrisy and take a good look at materialistic values. If you haven’t done so for awhile you’ll be astonished. Knowing no better they say what they see.

Yet somewhere along the line children must get terribly squashed, or terribly taught, for as adults most of us won’t admit wanting to receive. It is better to give than to receive is the unofficial cry of our land, even when no one except the sheltered, or brainwashed, really believes this. Kids calculate well. We, by our example, teach them how.

Interesting how price and the value of a gift changes with our age. With very young children price means nothing. Originality and charm, the obvious careful fitting of the gift to themselves, is everything. With adults expensiveness is often used as index of value, as a measure of deep love. The more expensive the present the more love is shown. Gifts, giving, providing for others, comes to mean love. And duty and obligation to many men.

In the past men especially were, and can still be, prone to be caught by the provider role: The need to give everything someone else wants. That need to provide is flagrantly exploited by the advertising media. So often men are busily providing things while their wives and children frantically search for companionship. Men, in their eagerness to provide, sometimes forget the object of their provision. And, conversely, many women do not comprehend the enormity of his sacrifice. Or the reasons, mistaken though they may be, that the father/husband makes these great efforts.

The lack of respect for the nurturing role is a further complication. In our society it is practically never acknowledged by either party. So-called women’s work is so severely downgraded that her contributions of cooking, housework, social skills, nurturing do not count as commensurate with effort and skill. Ours is a money culture and in a money culture unpaid work is routinely judged to be of little value.

As the provider role is exploited so is the nurturing role hidden. Women have colluded in this hiding of their value. Performing magic is what I call this disappearing work. Meals appeared by magic; I used to discourage intrusions into my kitchen. I delighted in my slight of hand tricks: Dry cleaning, groceries always there, unexpected guests taken in stride, his bosses expensively entertained on an inexpensive budget. Ironed shirts appeared like magic and I did the housework while my husband was at work. Like a courtesan, I entertained him as a guest. Then somehow he had the final word, for somehow, in that relationship, I came to be an inferior working for his approval. His job was more important than mine, his time more valuable. We, then, like so many couples of our time, never questioned the value of his superior work. Or that the gifts he gave the family (color TV, swimming pool) would provide us with instant happiness.

When the over-socialized husband/father does not look carefully at the true nature of his solitary provision (for that is what it becomes when the true wishes and needs of those provided for are ignored) the provider role can run rampant. A way out for the provider is to look carefully at what he is providing, at what cost to himself. Is expensiveness his only index of value? Material possessions his only goal?

He can regain contact with those he is providing for: Is expensiveness their only index of value? What she is providing? Is the increasing of material possessions the family’s only goal?

As a family unit they may elect to return to more simple and frugal attitudes. Amy Dacyczyn published The Tightwad Gazette[2] series to turn us on to more thoughtful and economical ways of being.

Gifts as necessities. How quickly we see through these and how we hate them: Clothes that must be bought anyway, provisions. How deplorable is the story of the little girl who earned money for performing family chores, and then was instructed to give the coins to charity. The coins were no gift. The child learned to hate charity, and her parents.

Yet, what are so many of our Christmases but gigantic trade-offs. You give me this; I’ll give you that. You spend twenty dollars on me; I’ll spend twenty on you. I must give him a token present because he gave me one.

Trade-offs become meaningless. We swap a mitten from the right hand to the left and back again, yet one hand is always left bare to freeze. I suspect that when we give in the exact expectation of what we will receive in return, part of our heart is left out to freeze.

The overly commercial aspects of Christmas are beginning to freeze some hearts. The spiritual is left out of Christmas as well as the needy, old, lonely, homeless, prisoners, and sick people. Especially left out are the hungry of the world. Consciousness, in beautiful homes with healthy well-fed men, women and children, is beginning to be raised. Some find it immoral to see TV ads for an electric gadget that shoots out cookie dough juxtaposed with bloated-bellied starving children. They translate this wasting of irreplaceable earthy resources on what they’ve come to see as foolishness into personal action. No longer content to sit idly by; they are doing something. They buy books like Charlene Spretnak’s The Spiritual Dimension Of Green Politics, Marsha Sinetar’s Ordinary People As Monks And Mystics, The Alternative Celebrations Catalogue, Jacob Needleman’s Money and the Meaning of Life, Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin’s Your Money or Your Life. They deliberately chose to lead their family and friends into lives of voluntary simplicity going beyond materialistic values into lives with outwardly more simple yet inwardly richer life-styles. Some special people are choosing creative simplicity and defining simple living as a “non-consumerist life-style based upon being and becoming, not having,” according to Duane Elgin in Voluntary Simplicity: Toward a Way of Life That Is Outwardly Simple, Inwardly Rich.

Voluntary simplicity sees our environment as fragile, our resources as limited, and the people of the world as responsibly related. Voluntary simplicity seeks to move beyond trade-offs into true giving. In the service of creating happier lives, it gives of the substance of itself.

Gifts have many meanings. Gifts mean power, validation, love, control, even an obligation. Gifts are also used as powerful clubs to force and manipulate others to our wishes. Parents who won’t yield self-control to their children can use subtle and not-so-subtle economic threats to keep the kids in line. Power of this sort can be insidious and difficult to recognize. These parents aren’t giving gifts; they are wielding self-glorious power. Still, sooner or later, the kids have a habit of retaliating. They flunk out of school, go to drugs or suicide, or don’t grow to their potential.

When society changes its rules in mid-stream, as in the current flux of women-men changes, we all suffer pressure and question our values. In some families one person dominates, including total control of the economic purse strings. Their word is law.

These families are sad ones usually, for all you can do with inflexibility is humor it. When you humor someone long enough the humored one ends up confused, anxious, out of contract, and not knowing the bedrock limits of his or her own space.

We keep ourselves real by honest communication and we cheat ourselves when we don’t provide avenues so we have this interchange. Other people tell us who and what we are, give feedback, as we tell them. When honest communication stops, as in gifts used as clubs, so most likely does any chance of real human growth.

One way to make a person happy is to make it possible for them to make you happy. Give the gift of information about your needs, desires, hurts.

We give ourselves gifts as rewards: A glass of wine after a hard day, the luxury of sleeping late on weekends, of Sunday breakfast in bed, an afternoon of golf, calling a friend, a piece of chocolate candy. Contrasts provide a spice of life. As a working model, I think of ascetic self-denial as alternating with hedonistic self-indulgence. Each extreme can enhance the other while either extreme alone can become as lifelessly boring as pornography reputedly does.

We know when we’ve been hard on ourselves and we have our small methods of rewarding ourselves. Sometimes we’ll even make life especially difficult so we can reward ourselves with a gift we probably shouldn’t have anyway.

Humans are clever creatures. For we’ll sometimes have a goal or an event we want to take place – which we may or may not admit to ourselves – and we’ll proceed to put ourselves, and those around us, through all sorts of gyrations until this goal is met and we can then, conscience-free, claim our reward. We pick a fight and reward ourselves by slamming dramatically out for a drink, or to see a lover we underneath meant to see all along. We can even put ourselves in impossible situations so we’ll find ourselves forced to give in, or get out.

Yet we also do boring tasks with self-rewards in mind. We make harder long-term tasks easier by the expectation of a gift to ourselves of a vacation, or some other pleasure.

Motives are complex. Deciphering your own can be an impossible task. Here is a rule to cover the loopholes between the genuine reward of a true gift to ourselves and the less admirable motive of self-indulgence: Never lie to yourself. But always expect yourself to try!

* * *

“And there are those who give with pain and that pain is their baptism,” says the poet Kahlil Gibran.

Giving is not always what it seems. Women especially are encouraged to give and not consider themselves. Yet giving is a myth like Santa Claus and grown-up people in a real world need more than myths.

The myth of giving is insidious. Perfect giving. Perfect love. Consider the story of the Chinese mother who gave everything to her son. Even her bleeding heart she tore from her bosom when he wanted to prove love to his demanding sweetheart. There was guaranteed not to be a dry eye in the house when, carrying his gruesome burden, he stumbled, and fell. For the loving mother’s heart then cried, “Did you hurt yourself, my son?”

* * *

You don’t get except by giving. You don’t grow except by risking. But to continue giving and risking we all have to keep ourselves alive. Survival is life. However, quality counts too. Anais Nin in her Diaries tells of a friend who asks: “Anais, do you think I am a masochist?”

“If you cling to a love which is no longer there, yes.”

Looked at in another light, this is holding on past its time, attempting to force our own way. Here is another look at the idea of force:

…I, who find abhorrent and tautological the doctrine of survival of the fittest (fitness meaning, in my experience, nothing more than survival-ability, a talent whose only demonstration is the fact of survival, but whose chief ingredients seem to be strength, guile, callousness).       –    John Barth

All my life I’ve worried about selfish and unselfish. I knew a girl once who was called selfish. Years later, after liberation both sought and thrust upon her, she cynically realized the selfish label fell like a club to get her to follow other’s wishes.

A smart liberated lady told me once that any time people tried to make her feel guilty, she had learned always to look around quick and see who was benefiting from her guilt trip.

Women have had the selfish trip laid on them, and heavily. So have men, but in different ways. Selfish ranks equally in insult power with calling someone a poor lover. Always we are taught it is better to give than to receive. For example, “You find true joy and happiness in life when you give and give and go on giving and never count the cost.”[3] But is this true? Always?

The children’s story, The Giving Tree[4] also expresses this giving myth. In the story the tree loves a little boy and she gives him leaves when he comes to play. The boy is happy and loves the tree. Later when the boy is older he asks the tree for money. The tree says she doesn’t have money only leaves and apples, but why doesn’t he take her apples and sell them in the city. The boy does and both boy and tree are happy. As the boy grows older he takes her branches to build a house and later her trunk to build a boat. When last the boy comes asking for more (by now he’s an old man) the tree says she’s sorry but she has nothing left. Whereupon the boy/man says he doesn’t need much any more, only a place to rest. The tree figuratively draws herself up and says, “well an old stump is good for resting.” She invites the old boy to sit, “And the tree was happy.” (A friend[5] suggests it would be interesting to imagine this story with a father tree and masculine pronouns!)

The perfect giving of the giving tree is a myth and real life giving trees have fates as dire: No apples, no branches, no trunks, no life. Unless we replenish ourselves from somewhere we give unto death.

This boy killed the goose that laid the golden egg. The giving tree, in another existence, could have given apples to laughing grandchildren while the old Boy sat companionably rocking in the cool shade of the old apple tree.

Giving as a martyr gives does good for nobody; not the giver and not the receiver. The guilt a martyr uses is a second-hand weapon. Stronger by far are clear sentences that say concisely what you want, what you like, what you don’t like and what you expect.

Staying in the diabolical trap of a self-sacrificing martyr is hard when you’re aware of Steiner’s rescue triangle that we’ll talk more of later. Simply put, we rescue when we do something for someone else that they could do themselves. Rescue is what the martyr does. She, or he: martyrdom knows no gender, does things for other people. Gives of time, money and energy. Gives when she/he doesn’t want to give. Gives with unknown, unacknowledged, unsought bargains in her/his soul. Gives with invisible strings and makes devil’s bargains.

* * *

A plant gives freely of its flowers, but keeps its leaves for itself. A healthy self-esteem recognizes the difference between the flower and leaf part of oneself.[6]

* * *

It occurs to me in sadder but wiser years that true giving, the kind that hurts neither party, can only come from a full heart, from left over energy that spills overflowingly out. The giving that genuinely asks for nothing for itself in return, that does not expect anything in return, may be the only giving that doesn’t damage. The problem with the giving, self-sacrificing mothers of my acquaintance, the kind I modeled myself after, is that unspoken, inarticulated, one-sided bargains were made. This entire giving, self-sacrificing edifice is built on a bargain. These unspoken deals cost everyone involved. When I teased one of these bargains out of myself I found that at bottom line I was giving because, at some unknown time in the future my daughter would recognize my sacrifices. She would then fulfill my one-sided mythic expectations by saying some version of, “You’ve been a wonderful parent. I owe everything to you.”

As I came to consciousness, I realized this bargain was indeed mine (she had had no part in fashioning it). And secondly that my society was feeding me myths that weren’t for my good.

None of us can give someone else something we do not have. I cannot give you money, oranges or nail polish I do not have. Nor can I give you energy, love, serenity, acceptance, nurturing, affirmation, validation, empathy, compassion, approval or encouragement that I do not have.

I must keep my own pot filled before I can fill the cups of others. If I neglect to fill and refill my own pot, eventually it will be completely drained, barren and empty. If I irresponsibly and self-destructively neglect my own needs I will become not only useless but also needy, parasitical and a burden to others – which will be harmful to them.[7]

I feel violently about this giving myth as I’ve watched its destructive inroads on myself and friends; men and women seem differently, but equally, affected.

At a camping picnic of a singles group with people sitting around a picnic table in a beautiful spot under huge oaks streaming grey Spanish moss, I watched a forty-year old lovely woman. She was kind, charming, open and you just knew she was the good mother type. She picked up a chicken carcass, ignoring the few pieces of good meat still left on the platter, and said, “I like to gnaw bones. Does anyone mind if I take this?”

No one minded. No one noticed. A man reached for a chicken leg. The laughing, talking and eating were uninterrupted.

Except a sudden vision struck me. I saw my mother reach for a chicken back and say, “This is my favorite piece of chicken.” She always ate backs and wings, and this a strong self-assertive woman. I saw myself gnawing the bones. I saw lines of women reaching endlessly back to a cave-woman ancestor who first told her mate, “I like to gnaw bones.” I’ve never seen a man reach for chicken and excusingly say that he liked to gnaw bones. Perhaps a father might, if he thought of it, and surely he would if his child were hungry.

Yet look at what is happening here. Not only is this giving lady somehow eating the worst part of the chicken, but she’s convinced herself that she likes it best. She probably does by now; I do! Notice too that she’s making a virtue of her sacrifice and relieving everyone of any necessity for gratitude. She’s doing it because she wants to, and what’s the gratitude needed to repay that kind of giving?

There is a happy ending to this story. These self-sacrificing generations of women gnawing bones haunted me. I called my daughter to recheck her chicken preference, suddenly afraid of her indoctrination into this strange society.

“Breast and chicken liver,” she reminded me.

I startled her with loud pleased laughter and then had to explain.

Equality comes in little, and not so little, ways.

Understanding also arrives in various forms as in the time a girl who was me learned about will-power. Will-power was another thing she had worried about, never considering she had enough, always with the vague notion she could go swinging madly in all directions of men, fragrant wine and wild, wild music. Then she hurt her knee; it swelled like a football and would only stay normal when she stayed off it. Which she did and the knee progressed nicely. At the time she revised a project, merging materials from two drafts and a notebook. The dining room table was a perfect place to work and she did. All through the long afternoon she ignored any twinges from her leg. She was behind schedule, her accident had already cost time. The job had to get done. And so the work was finished. But her knee again was a pain-filled football.

Later, immobile in bed, she ruefully realized several things. The work at the dining-room table could have been transferred to bed, if only she’d shut off her determined, will-powered mind and listened instead to her aching knee. She also saw that lack of will-power, contrary to popular wisdom, has true survival power and is valuable to the human race. Unmindful people like her could kill themselves with determination. Pain, psychic and physical, acted to tell you when enough was enough. Finally, she dimly glimpsed that lack of will-power was a worry she could now give up. In some areas she had enough.

There is a balance and harmony in selfish and unselfish, a time and place for both. Unselfish, too, has a price. Harry Browne in How I Found Freedom in an Unfree World puts it this way: Symbolize happiness as a big red ball; I have it, but since I’m determined not to be selfish I hand the happiness ball to you as quick as I can. You don’t want to be selfish either so you hand the ball back or on to another, perhaps your children. The more unselfish you are the faster you hand off the ball. All of us carefully taught unselfish people pass on happiness. Where does the red ball stop? Only with the selfish!

What kind of world is it when everyone gives and no one receives except the morally inferior selfish person? The one we’re all trying not to be.

Better by far to make ourselves whole people, capable of playing all the needed roles, free to give, to receive, to take, to release and to share as equals. Life holds more than giving.

* * *

And yet there remains a giving that is beyond giving.

Giving means extending one’s love with no conditions, no expectations and no boundaries.

Peace of mind occurs, therefore when we put all our attention into giving and have no desire to get anything from, or to change, another person.

The giving motivation leads to a sense of inner peace and joy that is unrelated to time.[8]

Robert Fulghum[9] tells of meeting Mother Teresa, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. He tells of her compassionate spirit, her caring heart and her immense spiritual power. Of course I’m impressed; we all are. Yet here again our language is inadequate, for giving of this magnitude makes no sense without the addition of love and spirituality. This giving is more than giving. The spiritual transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. We are all capable of transformation.

1.            Sinetar, Marsha. Living Happily Ever After: Thrive on Change, Triumph Over Adversity (New York: A Dell Trade Paperback, 1990, p 31).

2,              Amy Dacyczyn, The Complete Tightwad Gazette (New York: Random House, 1997).

3.  Caddy, Eileen quoted in Susan Hayward’s A Guide for the Advanced Soul: A Book of Insight. Crows Nest NSW 2065, Australia: In-Tune Books, 1984.

4.              Shel Silverstein, The Giving Tree (New York: Harper, 1964).

5.              Patsy McCarty, friend.

6.              Reed, Henry. Edgar Cayce on Channeling Your Higher Self. New York: Warner Books, 1989, p. 273.

7.              Elizabeth M., Mississippi. “”Self- examination,” The Forum, November 1993, p 6.

8.              Jampolsky, Gerald G. quoted in Susan Hayward’s A Guide for the Advanced Soul: A Book of Insight. Crows Nest NSW 2065, Australia: In-Tune Books, 1984.

9.              Fulghum, Robert. All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten: Uncommon Thoughts on Common Things (New York: Villard Books, 1990).

Coming Soon.