Generosity, On Purpose

“Choose generosity, knowing your actions can extend beyond yourself”. Neale Daniher – The Power of Choice

Maybe some people are just wired to be generous. They exude thoughtfulness, gratitude and generosity. It just seems to come naturally to them as they care for those around them and seem to be able to lessen the burdens of others simply by being in the same room.

I don’t think I’m one of those people…yet. I’m working on it, but it doesn’t exude from me, especially if you catch me before I’ve had my morning coffee, or if it’s too cold outside, or if my favourite sporting team recently lost (there is a specific set of conditions that need to be right…)

So, for the rest of us, I think the quote from Neale Daniher is an excellent place to start. He wrote “The Power of Choice” for his grandchildren, passing on what he had learned through life and his battle with motor neurone disease, which he succumbed to in May 2026.

As a result, his quote carries a great deal of weight. Because before generosity exudes, it is chosen. It is an active choice, that sometimes may feel like it goes against the grain of what we might want, but the outcome of it, once chosen creates ramifications that ‘extend beyond yourself’. I think there is something in that, something that we all want. To make a difference to others in our world, be that our families, people in our community or those we will never meet. That is the power of generosity.

It doesn’t just happen. It needs to be chosen, on purpose, regardless of the coffee or the weather or the sporting result.

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.

What’s Missing?

“What’s missing?” The question creates a certain panic in me, even now.

You probably remember the classic game where you are presented with a tray of items covered with a small towel, you are shown the items for a few seconds which is your time to try to remember as many items as you can – stapler, rubber band, paperclip, toy car, watch, pencil sharpener. Then the towel is replaced and you need to write down as many items as you can remember.

Where it became ‘next level’ intense was when some items were removed, you are shown what is left, and you need to recall what is no longer there. This seemed to come really easily to some people, but I always struggled to see what wasn’t there.

Perhaps it is because I have a below average short-term memory, although I like to think that it is because I am content with what I have that I don’t feel the need to look for what’s missing (it’s probably the first one though). Maybe that’s the real difference between the two versions of the game — one trains you to notice what’s gone, the other to notice what’s still there.

Lao Tzu said:

“Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.”

Focusing on what is already there in life can be difficult. We get used to things, to waking up in the same bed, seeing the same people, eating the same food, and we can easily forget that we have a bed, people in our life who love us and food to eat. Rather than being ordinary things, they are in fact, extraordinary. Things we can rejoice in and be grateful for.

Perhaps that’s what Lao Tzu means when he said that when we realise there is nothing lacking that ‘the whole world belongs to you’. Out of a realisation that we have enough, anything becomes possible, we have the whole world at our feet, and we can afford to be generous with what we already have.

“What could I possibly do to change that?”

I have heard that question many times over the years as people look down the barrel of global or national events that have dramatically influenced our lives.

“Honestly, nothing.” I respond.

Then we sit in the despair that follows.

But I can’t stay there, because despair keeps you paralysed and I am a big believer in doing little things each day that build up over time. It’s those small acts which, done diligently and away from the limelight, end up making a big difference. They won’t end a war today. They won’t fix the environment today. They won’t even ensure that my kids will eat all their dinner tonight. But maybe tomorrow something might shift a little. Then a little more the next day. And the day after that.

Nic Cave said, “Even our smallest actions have potential for great change, positively or negatively…You are anything but impotent, you are, in fact, exquisitely and frighteningly dynamic…and…you have an obligation to stand up and take responsibility for that potential. It is your most ordinary and urgent duty.”

We don’t need to sit in despair at the enormity of the challenges that lay ahead. We have an obligation and a responsibility to act, to do what we can with what is in our control. There is purpose in that. It is also, innately 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.

Just Be Here

It seems wild to me that this is a thing now. But putting your phone down is legitimately an act of generosity. And it probably needs to be more than just down, but away, somewhere out of sight. The mere presence of it makes the quality of conversation lower, even if you’re not looking at or touching your phone.

Companies pay billions of dollars to capture your attention, and instead, you are saying no to them and choosing to give it to just one person, for this moment right now. What a gift.

So, put it away for a bit. Give your full attention to someone else, or even yourself. This is a remarkable thing to offer.

It quietly says:
“You matter.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’d rather be here with you than somewhere else.”

Honestly, if someone said that out loud to me, I’d either feel deeply valued or incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe both, depending on the person. Such is the power of attention.

It doesn’t have to be an hour. Start with five minutes.

Ignore the desire to:

…check the notification.
…search the random fact.
…scroll to see what other people are eating.

Just be there.

Because in a distracted world, attention might be the most generous thing you have to give.