What Makes It Generosity?

A gift without cost is a platitude.

Generosity is innately costly. When we give something away to someone else there is always the opportunity cost of what we could have done with that time, money, energy, idea or item.

It’s important to recognise that, perhaps mostly because it will be encouraging for you when you realise just how generous you already are. We can overlook the things we do for others or what we give away and say, “It was nothing really.” But it was something. Even if it was small.

It is also useful to notice an area in your life where you might think you are being generous, but you aren’t.

Does that mean that you have to make sure that every time you do something nice for someone else it costs you something?

If there is no thought given, nothing else you could have bought, or done with your time or your energy, even though it was probably a nice thing to do, it may not be an act of generosity. There is a difference between being nice and being generous.

There’s no need to be legalistic about it, it’s just good to recognise if your giving is costing you something. How much you are willing for it to cost you is entirely up to you.

A Slightly Bruised Raspberry

Gerda Weissmann Klein, a Holocaust survivor, told a story about her friend, Ilse, when they were both in one of the worst Nazi concentration camps.

“She once found a raspberry in the gutter on the way to the factory…and she saved it all day long.

She carried it in her pocket – the temptation must have been incredible – and she gave it to me that night on a leaf. She had plucked a leaf through the barbed wire, washed it and presented me with one slightly bruised raspberry.”

Ilse’s only possession in the world was a bruised raspberry, that she found, and it became her sole focus to protect it and give it to her friend.

That is generosity in its purest form. She could have consumed it herself and no one would have known, but the idea of bringing her friend an ounce of joy in the darkest of places was much more important to her than anything else.

I don’t know about you, but upon reading about Ilse and Gerda I arrived at a point where I felt like I could never become generous like that. I am honestly not sure I could be capable of that sort of generosity or love.

At the same time, I am aware of the sense of joy that an outrageous, sacrificial act of generosity can bring.

I could buy punnets of raspberries today, set up a table on the street and hand them out one by one, to be just like Ilse, but that is ridiculous. It’s not about the raspberry, this story is about the sacrifice. The challenge that I find here is about whether my generosity costs me something, or if I am giving out of comfort. There is nothing wrong with that, but my sense is that generosity without a cost is a platitude.

Why should I water someone else’s garden?

I don’t garden. My grass is fake. My plants are indestructible. Watering happens automatically.

The most I do is pull out weeds and sweep up leaves. So I don’t know the joy of toiling in the soil and watching something I have cultivated grow into a beautiful plant or a food source that could be eaten. The idea of growth in a garden is beautiful and I know that some people love it, but I just don’t understand the draw. Perhaps when I get older it will become a thing for me, but I’m not holding my breath.

What I do understand is seeing things grow in other people. As they learn and develop in their skillsets, resilience and courage. Be they children or other individuals.

I coached my son’s cricket team last season. It was my first foray into the coaching world of kids sports. Was I good at it? Not really, but the kids did develop and improve from the start of the season to the end. Watching them go through that journey, seeing them enjoy that, and knowing that I had a tiny part to play in it, brought me joy.

I’m not sure who it was that said, “When you water someone else’s garden, your own begins to bloom.” But I think I know a little bit about what they were trying to say.

Unexpressed Gratitude is Selfish

I catch myself in moments of gratitude. Usually I am alone, and a thought hits me,
“Boy, I am so grateful for…”

Usually it is about my wife, but often it is also about my kids. They are all so great, and it feels good to be reminded of that. I then begin to wish I wasn’t alone in that moment so I could share that with them.

“When I see them next time, I will tell them how I feel about them.”

Then I walk in the door to my home and normal life kicks in with the importance of getting people fed, bathed, read to and in bed at an appropriate time.

My grateful thoughts have disappeared and the desire to share them with my family is also gone.

I guess this is how we end up not expressing ourselves to those closest to us.

I know, I’m a cliché.

I think about it often, it’s my version of ‘if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it…’. If gratitude is unexpressed, is it really gratitude?

I’m not sure if it is. I think that if I feel grateful to someone for who they are, especially someone close to me, and I don’t express it, that is selfish on my part. Everyone deserves to have gratitude expressed to them, about them. Keeping that from people is unfair.

Every night at our dinner table, we share 3 things that we are grateful for in that day. It has become a list of things, which is great. Perhaps I can add “1 person that I am grateful to”, as a means to express my gratitude to those around me, and become a little less selfish.

Fire or Light?

I used to run from difficult emotions. Discomfort, or anxiety, or sadness. I would avoid them all. For some reason I thought that if I sat in them and experienced what they were, I would be trapped and never get out. I didn’t want that. I wanted to be happy.

It took me a while and some challenging relationships to discover that this is no way to live. I found myself in a place where I wanted to face those emotions.

The first counsellor I saw told me that if you sit with a challenging emotion like the ones I was trying to avoid, they generally pass in around 45 minutes. I have no idea if that is true or not, but having an end time on it gave me the confidence to try it and I can confirm that I am a little better at sitting with those emotions now.

But it took a tough choice to begin that journey. I was caught in a place where I was in emotional turmoil, and I knew that if I didn’t do something it was likely I would end up in that place again somewhere down the road. I certainly didn’t want that, so I did the work.

As is often the case, when life gets hard, when it’s time to change, we generally only act because we feel the fire, or we see the light.

Or as an addiction specialist put it, “No one gets sober until being drunk is more painful than facing the thing you are running from”.

I’ve seen changes in others as they have intentionally become generous because they realised that staying stingy is more painful than giving something away. They felt the pain of relationships lost, or of the hold that money has over them, or the wrongs in the world that they were in a position to fix.

Whether it is because you feel the fire of what not giving will do, or you see the light of what is possible through your giving, generosity is much less painful than not being generous.

You Should Auction That

The suggestion came in the middle of a special charity event. We had a signed book, featuring the amazing life story of the organisation’s founder, which I had planned to give away at the end of the night.

“You should auction the book.”

On the face of it, it seemed like a good idea. Get people to bid and create more of a buzz at the event, and raise a bucket load of money for the charity. It’s a win-win, right?

Here’s the thing though, events are terrible for fundraising.

Before you disagree outright, because you have attended one where hundreds of thousands of dollars are raised, hear me out.

They are terrible for three reasons:

  1. The big gala events that tout large amounts of attendees and funds raised, cost almost as much as they raise. At best, they cost half of what they bring in. A 50% fundraising ratio on an activity is not great.
  2. The money given at events is extremely transactional. It consists of the cost that people are willing to pay to be part of the experience and the cost that people are willing to pay to look like they are generous. Both are still generosity, but it is unlikely that those who attend and give will grow a deeper relationship with the organisation they are supporting. Often they are unaware of what the organisation does, or even who they are.
  3. For those that really do care about the organisation they are supporting, they would give anyway, event or not. What looks like a wonderful way to connect with supporters turns out to be an expensive way to ask someone to give who would do it in response to a face to face coffee, or phone call.

Of course there are other things that come from events, like awareness of the organisation and the way the people feel about it – events can create endless good vibes. But based on pure fundraising, they are terrible. They promote transactions, not generosity. Only quality relationships foster the type of long-term generosity that can really benefit charities.

We gave the book away as planned at the event and the recipient loved it – probably more than they would have if they ‘won’ it in an auction.

The Invisible Things

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Antoine de Saint-Exupéry – The Little Prince

If the essential things are invisible, does that mean that the things that are visible are unimportant? Or less important? That’s a tough sell today.

If true, it puts a great deal of life into a clearer perspective. Much of how we live our lives and express ourselves, by this measure, would be deemed unimportant.

The key question is what, then, is important?

I keep coming back to people. Not those who see us but those we truly see. The ones we interact with on a daily basis, that we care about, that we feed in to, that we love and nurture and journey with.

Then it is the people that we have loose connections with, how we treat those who make our coffee, or serve us lunch, or those trying to park in the parking space next to us.

Then it is the wider world around us. The people we will never meet who are impacted by how we live, the animals that call this planet their home too, and the planet that sustains our life, both of which we are inter-connected to.

These are the important things, the invisible things, the generous things. How we relate to them and our attitude towards them cannot be seen because it comes from within each of us.

The rest of life, the external stuff that people do see, is unimportant in comparison.

The Fruit of Being Generous

There are so many benefits to being generous.

Not just for the people receiving it, but for the person giving it too. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to experience good things as a result of choosing to be generous.

The catch is that generosity can’t be driven only by what you get back. The moment it becomes transactional, it stops being generosity and starts becoming something different, more of a calculation.

But when generosity is genuine, it begins to bear fruit.

Not always immediately. Not always in obvious ways. But over time, it becomes noticeable.

It shows up in your attitude. A lighter way of seeing people. Less cynicism. More patience than you used to have.

It shows up in your lifestyle. Less focused on holding tightly, more open-handed in how you live and relate to what you have.

And it shows up in your finances too. Not necessarily more or less money, but a different relationship with it. Less fear. Less grip. More clarity about what it’s for.

The strange thing about generosity is that it grows both outward and inward at the same time.

You give something away.

And somehow, you grow fruit for yourself.

The Most Generous Person in the World

Who is the most generous person in the world?

It’s a hard question, with many ways to answer.

If we measure generosity by dollar amount, then the usual names come up. Bill Gates. Warren Buffett. Billionaires giving away billions.

Fair enough.

But the deeper you go into the question, the harder it becomes to answer.

If generosity is measured by percentage given away, then maybe Chuck Feeney belongs near the top. He spent much of his life quietly giving almost all his wealth away.

If generosity is measured by trust, then maybe MacKenzie Scott belongs near the top. She gives large amounts away quickly, and completely trusting the organisations to spend it wisely.

If generosity is measured in time, sacrifice and service to others, then you can’t go past Mother Teresa.

But maybe, some of the most generous people are not people you have heard of.

I think about the parents I know who quietly sacrifice opportunities for themselves so their kids can have them instead.

The friend who answers the phone late at night.

The person who notices someone sitting alone.

The co-worker who makes life easier for everyone else without needing recognition for it.

Tiny acts. Small moments.

Regular people making life a little better for those around them.

Most generosity never gets written about. But I suspect it’s the kind that holds the world together.

The Better Offer

“Thanks, but I got a better offer.”

I’m not sure I’ve heard too many people say that out loud, but certainly that is what they have meant when they let me know that they were unable to attend an event or gathering. Sometimes it is not communicated with words at all, just through them not turning up.

It can feel hard to commit to an event weeks in advance because who knows what else might come up in the meantime?

Sometimes your better offer is listening to your anxiety and staying home.

Sometimes your better offer is choosing one friend over another.

Sometimes your better offer is choosing something that serves you in that moment over what you have already committed to.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of those choices, but they should be intentional, not habitual.

An underrated act of generosity is simply turning up to something you said you’d go to. Even if you might not feel like it in the moment.

It shows the person that invited that you care. That you respect them. That you recognise the effort it takes to organising something, and that it matters when people come.

And if you can’t make it, letting someone know matters too.

Because people want to be valued and that is often just as important as being there.