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From Transactional to Transformational: Generosity - Diana Clark

The following talk was given by Diana Clark at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on October 29, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

From Transactional to Transformational: Generosity

Good evening, welcome.

Sometimes at the end of retreats, we have a closing circle where people talk about how their experience was. Not all closing circles are exactly the same, but it is not uncommon for people to share something that happened that was meaningful for them—something noteworthy that they want to take away with them.

In these circles, I sometimes say something like: "Whatever you found here that was meaningful—some new understanding, a feeling of peace and ease, some settledness in the mind and the body, or maybe a connection with somebody else—give it away. Just give it away."

This idea is that as you get in your car to leave the retreat and see other people in the lane next to you, you think, "Here, have some peace. Here, have some stillness. Here, have some sense of well-being." Just give it away. Actively do this.

Sometimes when we find things that are meaningful or helpful, we want to hold on to them. Of course we do. But those of us who have been practicing for a while know that the Buddhist teachings point to the fact that clinging leads to dukkha¹, or suffering. There can be a way in which we think, "Oh, this is so meaningful that I have to hold on to it." But the act of holding on sometimes transforms it from an experience into just an object, just another concept or memory. It is no longer a lived experience.

For me, this was very powerful. I think I have told this story before. I was sitting a long retreat, and after quite some time, I needed to go to the doctor. It turned out not to be serious—I was fine—but when your mind is really settled and you have been practicing for a few months, any small thing turns into something giant. So, I was off to the doctor. I had only been doing walking meditation slowly for a long time, so it was so exciting to be in a car. We were going so fast—like 35 miles an hour.

I remember having this idea of coming from this place of incredible stillness, peace, and ease, and just giving it away to people in the car in the other lanes going the opposite direction. My heart just started to overflow. Then, showing up at the urgent care or doctor's office—where there is often a lot of suffering in the waiting rooms—I was just giving it away. "Okay, here is whatever sense of peace I have. Here, have it. Here is any sense of well-being or stability."

There was something magical about this. We discover that these aren't commodities; there isn't a limited quantity. They are unlimited, and giving them away helps them grow and expand. This movement, this willingness to open up and share as opposed to holding on, is a really big support for practice.

I want to highlight this practice of generosity. This willingness to give away—whether it was an experience or something else—is profound. When we come off retreat, I am often writing down notes about what was meaningful and helpful for me, and I sometimes look back at those notes. I am not saying that we shouldn't ever remember things that happened that were meaningful and supportive. It is the clinging—the "I have to hold on to this"—where we get into trouble.

The opposite of this clinging is this movement of sharing, generosity, or letting go. It supports openness, spaciousness, and a sense of having enough. It undermines a sense of inadequacy, insufficiency, or lack. Freely giving away turns out to be a tremendous support.

The Buddha pointed to this in his teachings. Paraphrasing one of his teachings: "If you knew what I know about the power of generosity, you wouldn't let a single meal go by without sharing it." He is pointing to this openness and this recognition of our connection to others—how we impact others and how we are impacted by them.

This might seem like a paradox: the idea that giving away makes us feel like we have more. It undermines this feeling of "I have to have more, I have to hold on to this." I think all of us recognize that when we have this feeling of "I don't have enough," that is where we are stuck.

I want to acknowledge that sometimes we truly don't have enough. Sometimes we don't have enough money, we find ourselves in debt, or we find ourselves unable to take care of responsibilities. It is perfectly legitimate that sometimes there simply isn't enough material resource. But if we are primarily concerned with "I have to get more, I have to get more," it supports a sense of insufficiency and the gnawing anxiety that goes with it.

This can be tricky territory. We might need to get out of debt, yet we don't want to feel like everything isn't enough. One way we can look at that is to bring some wisdom to it. Money is one thing—what is in the bank account or on the credit card—but is there something we do have enough of? What can we give away?

We can give our attention. So much suffering in the world is about people feeling like they haven't been seen, heard, or met with somebody giving them their full attention. It is quite astounding, actually, if we look at that. Maybe we can give our attention with care to somebody who comes to talk to us, or even on small things, like with the grocery clerk. Just make eye contact, acknowledge them, and if it seems appropriate, say, "Hi, how are you?" instead of just thinking, "You do your job so I can get out of here as fast as possible." We can recognize our common humanity.

Maybe we can be generous with some kindness—kindness for ourselves and kindness with others. Maybe this is some warm-heartedness. Maybe that takes the form of sending a physical card in the mail. These seem like precious things these days, right? Text and email seem so easy, but sending a card to somebody feels like a sense of uplift, some kindness, and some care.

When we talk about generosity here in the Buddhist centers, and certainly in this tradition where we highlight that everything is offered freely—everything here at IMC, at the retreat center, all of our retreats—sometimes it can feel awkward. There is a way in which we might conflate mainstream ideas of generosity and giving with Buddhist ideas. I want to highlight a few differences here.

First of all, generosity is often translated as dāna². It turns out to be a foundational practice in the Buddhist teachings. It is just this recognition of openness and sharing, connecting with others, in contrast to the opposite: "I have to have more." It is part of ethical behavior. This willingness to share—whether it is attention, kindness, time, material objects, or money—is really foundational to the practice. It highlights how we are in the world as opposed to just thinking, "I just have to get some meditative experience and then I'll be fine." It highlights the way that we impact others and are impacted by others.

In the list of paramis³—a list of ten qualities that are usually described as "off the meditation cushion" practices done in daily life—the first is this orientation towards sharing, towards dāna. Also, when the Buddha gives teachings to somebody in the stories, the first teaching he often gives is about generosity (dāna), then ethical behavior (sīla⁴), and then mental cultivation (bhāvanā⁵). Just this recognition that generosity is often an orientation towards openness, and it is this orientation that can have such a big impact on our lives.

This is in contrast to what I might call mainstream society. The orientation in mainstream society is often getting: "I have to get more. Give me more. I have to attain. I have to achieve. I have to have. What can I get, and what can I get away with?" It is a society we created, and we can choose to participate in that or not in a way that makes sense to us, but there is a real different emphasis on what kind of orientation to have.

In mainstream giving, it is often transactional. "You gave me this, I'll give you that." Or maybe there is a sense of expectation. "I had you over for dinner, and I am kind of expecting that you are going to invite me over for dinner." Or, "If you are offering me dinner, then I better show up with something of value." I am not saying that these are bad; I am just saying there is often a transactional nature, or clear expectations of reciprocity. Or perhaps clear expectations of tangible benefits, like buying Girl Scout cookies. "I am going to pay this amount of money for the cookies to support the Girl Scouts." I am going to get cookies.

Mainstream society emphasizes reciprocity and tangible benefits. With the Buddhist idea, the emphasis is more on the internal experience. "Is it supporting greater freedom? Is it supporting greater ease, greater peace, and my movement towards finding my way through the suffering I have in my life?"

Also, in mainstream giving, sometimes it is done out of a sense of duty or obligation. "This is what is expected of us. These are the norms of certain communities." In contrast, the Buddhist teachings on generosity place emphasis on cultivating an open heart and an open mind.

There is a recognition that the heart, the mind, and our behaviors are connected and influence one another in all directions. I am using "heart" to mean a felt sense, intuition, or feeling; "mind" to mean thoughts and concepts; and "behaviors" are the things we actually do. What is in our mind influences our behavior, but our behavior influences our minds and our hearts as well. Generosity flows out of this openness of heart and mind, but the behavior of being generous also supports this sense of openness. It is about cultivating this inner disposition of openness, kindness, and care that often accompanies giving.

Giving is also the opposite of clinging. It is the cultivation of the opposite of what leads to suffering. It is the cultivation of what leads to greater peace and ease. Sometimes, doing the opposite highlights the other side. Feeling the openness of generosity really starts to highlight the tightness when there is a feeling of stinginess, or holding too tightly. Being in generosity supports openness, and it highlights the tightness we can feel in other areas of our life—when we feel like, "No, no, no, I can't share my attention or my time or my energy."

I feel like every time I say something like this, I also need to say that there are times in our lives when we have a lot of suffering and we don't have the capacity to meet others where they are. There are seasons when there is a lot of illness or dukkha. I don't want us to feel obligated, thinking, "I have to give," even though we feel depleted, starving for some ease, or are in the midst of difficulties.

Having said that, part of the connection between generosity and happiness is visible on big scales, like during terrible hurricanes or tragedies. When things are awful, sometimes people come together and share what they have. They help pick up the rubble, literally or metaphorically. The activity of sharing and helping others can bring an uplift of the heart. Even though there is devastation around, the act of being generous reminds us, "Oh yeah, I have something I can give—energy, time, attention." There is an uplift of the heart that can happen with that.

Sometimes when we are really down and out, maybe we don't have the capacity to be generous. But if we do have the energy to be generous in some way, it might provide some uplift, a little bit of joy, and some appreciation. It might undermine the sense that we don't have agency. Being generous can counteract that helplessness.

Another contrast is that in Buddhist ideas, there is a real emphasis on having some wise discernment in one's generosity. Mainstream requests often rely on emotional impulse—like the brokenheartedness that happens when you see a photo of a child in distress. Research shows people are more likely to donate to a single child than a group. They rely on heartstrings getting pulled, or on social pressure. Some religious traditions publicly list who donated what, or restrict religious tenets to those who donate enough.

In contrast, here we are pointing to wisdom. This is an opportunity to cultivate wisdom. It is an encouragement to be attentive to one's own needs and limitations. What is appropriate for you in your life situation? Do you feel inspired or appreciative and want to help see these teachings continue? Use wise discernment: "Is this something that is valuable for me? If so, then what can I donate?" It relies less on emotional heartstrings and more on wisdom.

That wisdom also comes with a sense of responsibility to not harm. We don't want to harm ourselves by being generous in a way that is inappropriate for our life. We have heard stories of people getting into terrible debt to donate to an organization that turns out to be bogus. In the Buddhist tradition, there is a real encouragement to practice generosity and wisdom together.

There could even be a way in which our generosity compounds difficulties. For example, a co-worker might be complaining a lot about their boss, spouse, or the government. We might feel like, "I am going to be generous and really listen to them." But we might notice that the more the person complains, the more dejected they feel, and the more dejected we feel. They start to feel more agitated, and we start to feel helpless and hopeless.

If we just listen, feeling like we are being generous, they might believe that we are condoning their behavior, thinking that this is a way to greater peace and freedom. Or they might think we agree with everything they say. So, there is an encouragement to have some sensitivity about the manner in which we are being generous to make sure we are not causing harm to others or to ourselves.

Are we just being generous because we feel uncomfortable and want to stop feeling uncomfortable? Or are we so closed off and concerned with ourselves that we don't even notice when other people could use some help, attention, or kindness?

This idea of generosity is used as a foundational teaching—just this openness of the heart—but also as a way that supports our own path towards liberation. One of the "Three Poisons"⁶ is greed—this sense of "I need to have more, more, more." This causes so much suffering in the world for us as individuals and in the wider world. Generosity is an antidote to one of these poisons. Complete freedom is described as the absence of greed, hatred, and delusion. So, this is pointing directly towards greater freedom.

The Buddhist practice of generosity is also a great way to learn about ourselves. A big part of this practice is greater self-understanding—how we are in the world, and how we show up, as a way to help us find less suffering and more ease.

We might just query: What areas of our lives do we feel generous in, and what areas do we not feel so generous? Not that it has to be bad or good, but just to understand ourselves. And then maybe to stretch ourselves a little bit. I am not saying we have to condemn the way we are, but just an encouragement to find more and more openness.

An obvious sway is between time and resources. Some people think, "I don't have any extra time, but here, you can have some money." Or maybe, "I don't have any money, but I have time to share." Or, "I don't have so much kindness; I'm cranky and my world is falling apart." Again, we don't have to say it is bad or good. We can just recognize how it is for us. With this greater understanding, is there a way that we could have greater freedom by just stretching a little bit?

We learned these ways of how generosity is in the world from our families, societies, and communities. We don't have to make them bad, but can we learn something?

When we look at our practice of generosity, we will probably notice that we most often have mixed motivations. Maybe some of it is a natural wanting to share, and maybe some is, "Well, it is kind of expected of me," or "I want them to like me, appreciate me, or remember me." Can that be okay? We might think that if it is mixed motivation, it isn't pure openness, so maybe it isn't even worthwhile.

I would say it always starts with some mixed motivations. Then, as we practice with mindfulness and spiritual practice, our motivations start to get more and more purified. They become more and more generous and open as we find more and more ease. It just naturally flows that way.

This Buddhist idea of generosity turns out to be a foundational practice as it points to this openness of heart, open-mindedness—or we might even say "open-fistedness"—in the way we show up in the world that leads to greater freedom, less harm, and peace and ease.

Q&A

Participant: I had a couple of thoughts about the intention behind generosity. I have seen this in others and look for it in myself: if it is an unhealthy "I want to be generous to get some recognition for it," I see that as greed—greed for recognition. So not real, open generosity.

And the other thing, when you were talking about if you are depleted yourself, maybe it is not the time to be generous. I was thinking, well, maybe that is the time to direct your generosity to yourself.

Diana: Very nice. I like this idea of having generosity towards myself—some self-care in some kind of way.

And it is interesting about being generous so that you can have some recognition. Back when I was in Corporate America, there was a plaque here in the Bay Area that has my name on it for my generosity. Whenever I see that or recall it, it gives me this uplift to the heart. It was something that was meaningful for me, and it makes me very happy that I was able to do that. So maybe there was some greed there for recognition—I did like the idea that my name was going to be on this plaque—but I also heard this idea years ago from Joseph Goldstein, one of the elders in this tradition. He said he had started this practice of: whenever there was a request for generosity, to just do it. Just do it, even though the motivations may be mixed. Being wise with regards to one's means, of course.

I started to do this as well. It just made me happy. I noticed how my motivations were all over the place, but there was also just this recognition that being generous with material goods, time, or attention cultivates this movement of letting go.

Participant: You mentioned that uplift of the heart, and I was thinking about this while you were talking. In my experience, it only comes when it is difficult to be generous. Contributing to organizations like Save the Children or Doctors Without Borders—that is easy, and there is no uplift of the heart in that sort of generosity. But putting myself in a situation that is difficult, like talking to someone that I feel uncomfortable with but it is helpful—that has the uplift of the heart.

Diana: So you are saying the uplift of the heart is more if it is difficult to give? That hasn't been my experience, but I think this is a great thing to explore: what is the connection there between if it is difficult to give or not to give? Thank you for bringing that up.

Participant: One area where I feel a little tight is that I like things to go my way. Especially socially, there is control. I am wondering if you have suggestions for working with giving that away—giving agency, allowing for things to go the way that I don't like.

Diana: What does it feel like when you say that you feel tight?

Participant: It is like, "Oh, it would be better if I told them this is my way, the better way to do it."

Diana: This is such an interesting topic, about controlling others. Of course, Kevin, you probably know, we don't get to control. We think we can, but we don't really control others.

What comes to mind is something simple about just being present in the moment. An obvious thing is feeling your feet on the ground. Often what happens when we are trying to control others is to not feel the discomfort. We feel like, "Okay, well if they would just stop doing that or start doing that, then I wouldn't have this discomfort."

But is there a way that we can just acknowledge, feel our feet on the ground, and say, "Yeah, this is uncomfortable"? That is the truth of the moment, and that is the reality of the moment. Can we be with that as best we can?

So often what will happen is we slip right into, "Oh yeah, this is uncomfortable and they really should be doing all this kind of stuff." Can you just come back to, "Wow, this really is uncomfortable"?

You probably have this experience too, that if we don't control, often things unfold in a way that we don't expect, and maybe they are even better. Maybe people have different ideas that turn out to be better than the ideas that we had. So, it takes a little trust and confidence in the unfolding of things. And maybe if it is not better, can that be okay too? I wish I had an easy answer for you, Kevin.

May you find some flow of this openness of the heart as you go home this evening and every day thereafter. Thank you.