The Art of Giving

M.L., Autumn 2007

The essence of spiritual practice is touched through the art of giving. It doesn't matter what we give, nor does it matter how we give. The attitude of offering freely with no thought of any return is the heart and soul of our practice.

Achan Chah, a now deceased forest monk from Thailand, was teacher to many of the early Vipassana students in this country. When he first visited the West, he was surprised by the diligent meditation practice he encountered. But rather than being pleased, he commented that it seemed practitioners had gotten things backwards. In Thailand, he observed, you first practice generous giving, know by the Sanskrit word 'Dana'. Then you can take up the practice of sila, the ethical behavior outlined in the precepts or mindfulness trainings of our sect. Only then are you ready for meditation.

In meditation, when something comes up in our mind, a thought for example, we hold it, see it. When the thought arises, we know that a thought is there, and we know what the thought is about. In our meditation, we always know exactly what is arising. Then we give it away. In the words of Uchiyama Roshi, we open the hand of thought. It's like going to the kitchen and picking up a glass of water. We say "oh what is this?" and then knowing it's a glass of water, we take a sip, and we put it down again. We don't hold on to anything. We know when our thoughts come, we know when a thought is present and we know when a thought ends. And when we are emptied of thought then the world comes forth to greet us. Ah, the sound of the red-winged blackbird, ah, the pungent smell of incense. We let go of our thought, and come back to what is giving itself to us in that moment, and the universe opens up. We touch the world in that moment, and we in turn, are touched by the world.

In meditation, as in giving, there are no goals. In Sanskrit this is called apranahita. With no goal in mind, we are able to give ourselves to our practice for the experience of each breath, each newly arising moment. If we sit in order to get something, we will suffer.

Try sitting to achieve something, to get something. Try sitting for peace. You'll begin to see the Second Noble Truth, the causes of suffering. And you'll suffer. You might experience some calmness, and immediately you will say, 'Ah, see I've succeeded." You will feel so good about yourself for that moment, and you might be tempted to say to yourself "See how peaceful I am. What is wrong with the person across the room who is frowning during meditation? Oh, I'm so much better than they are." But then you'll notice that your mind is distracted and you'll think "oh no, my practice is no good." Either way we create suffering. So we keep coming back, to this breath, this moment by moment awareness, until we see that we are practicing for no goal, no gain, for nothing at all. We are just giving ourselves completely to each moment.

The Master Hui-Hai, known as the Great Pearl, put it this way. A monk asked Hui-hai, "By what means can the gateway of our school be entered?"
      Hui-hai said "By means of the dana paramita."
      The monk said, "According to the Buddha, the Bodhisattva's path comprises six paramitas. Why have you mentioned only the one? Please explain why this one alone provides a sufficient means for us to enter the Way."
      Hui-Hai said "Deluded people fail to understand that the other five all proceed from the dana paramita and that by its practice all the others are fulfilled."
      The monk asked, "Why is it called the dana paramita?"
      Hui-hai said, "Dana means relinquishment."
      The monk asked "Relinquishment of what?"
      Hui-hai said "Relinquishment of the dualism of opposites, which means relinquishment of ideas as to the dual nature of good and bad, being and non-being, void and non-void, pure and impure and so on." (from The Zen Teaching of Instantaneous Awakening: Being the Teaching of the Zen Master Hui Hai, Know as the Great Pearl, trans. John Blofeld)

The Buddhist practice of mindfulness is simply this practice of relinquishment, of letting go, of giving. We give ourselves to this moment, and the world is here. The world is here offering herself to us. The dual nature of our thinking disappears and what comes forth is the sweet smell of the rose, the gentle smile of our partner, the trill of the hermit thrush in alder brush. We give up our ideas about the world in order to experience what is right before us, the reality of this moment. Inherent in this giving is receiving, and inherent in letting go is accepting. Giving and receiving are of one reality. Letting go and accepting belong to each other. Our breath is the anchor here, and through grounding in our breath, this moment unfolds within and around us. Where can we say that the smell of the rose begins, and where do we think it ends? Is it outside of us? Is it inside? Clearly there is no separation here. We give ourselves completely so that we may be filled by everything.

Dogen, continued in the text of the Four Virtues that even "to accept a body is giving, and to give up the body are both giving." A friend who had practiced with me in Montana, had a fast-growing brain tumor. He was not an old man. He still had two teen-agers in his home. But one week-end he held a party and he invited all his friends and loved ones. Throughout the evening, he gave away all his possessions, one by one, each gift specially given to the most appropriate person; the one who most needed it, or would best appreciate it. That night, after everyone left, he fell asleep smiling, clearly filled, and he never woke up again.

Letting go and being here, we see giving is the nature of reality – the reflection of the universe and we are part of that whole. We are always and constantly being included in the universe's generosity. The trees and green algae release the breath of our life, and receive our breath in return. The sun shining in the past and in the present has transmitted all the energy that we use as food in our bodies, in keeping us warm, and clothed and mobile by way of fossil fuels. And the sky and mountains, the oceans and rivers give generously to all the water that sustains our life. It's simple science, the kind we learned in grade school, and yet when we stop and reflect we see that we're involved in the great mystery of a gift that has no beginning or end. Our lives both express and manifest that gift in which there is no separation, no self, no other. To use the felicitous term of Thich Nhat Hanh, we "inter-are".

The great Indian teacher Nisargadatta Maharaji said, "Wisdom tells me that I am nothing. Love tells me I am everything. Between the two, my life flows." So give yourself with no thought of return, and let the unfolding universe meet you in giving. Touch this moment, and let this moment touch you so deeply that all thoughts drop away, self and other drop away. The still center constantly flowing, pouring forth, giving with no thought of return.

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