I have always heard people aiming to “have it all” in life. Some wise sayings suggest that maybe you won’t have it all at the same time, but in the end, you’ll have it all. It’s ambitious and encouraging.
I like the idea of having it all. I want it all for myself, stubbornly and determinedly.
At least, that’s what I thought. But when I reflect on my actions, I realize I am actually accumulating knowledge, materials, and money not just to sustain a pleasant and free life, but to give it all away.
When faced with difficult decisions, in my calmest state, my heart always leans towards giving. Giving up on ideologies, irrelevant but comfortable identities, expectations, the “right” things, the “shoulds,” the “musts,” how people should behave around me, and how I should show up in front of others.
The more I give, the freer I feel. I become more generous, evolving into a version of myself that I love. I don’t feel any less for it. However, from time to time, my closest friends hesitate at my decisions — to give, to accommodate, to make way for others. They say I don’t know who I am, that I lose myself. I feel their judgment. I feel shame and guilt that I don’t know how to protect and build myself up.
But again and again, I put myself in a position to peel off layer after layer of my identity. It is, in fact, painful as hell. You stand publicly, offering your vulnerability to others, again and again.
But after all this, I have come to realize that I have more when I give. My body, my time, my space, my belief system — they all become wider, more spacious for new ideas and new information to come in. It doesn’t necessarily mean I have to take everything or agree with everything others offer back, but I am open and set myself up for that.
Yet, I remain skeptical. What if what everyone says about earning, gaining, and pursuing is something I need? What if, by adjusting my identity according to those around me, my job, and my environment, for external attention, money, and convenience, I am delaying discovering my true self? What if I am in denial of my own deep needs?
By giving up on all beliefs and ideologies, I cling to the one ideology of giving. I don’t even dare to think I’m anywhere near giving up everything. Giving up is itself a form of holding on to something. It’s always a game of running away from something and clinging to something else. It’s dualism at its core. At which point can I even give up on giving up itself?
The role of the giver and receiver?
When we look at the world purely in material terms, it’s clear who the giver and receiver are in every transaction. The beggar receives money from the donor. The parent gives food to the child. Even if we delve a little deeper into these transactions advance of mere materials, it’s still evident: the beggar receives kindness and empathy from the donor. Without generosity, the donor wouldn’t hesitate, feel sorry, stop in the middle of their walk, reach into their pocket, and lower themselves to give a few dollars to the beggar before moving on with their day. Aside from the money, it costs a few seconds of their time , the quality of attention — time currency. There is a bit of inconvenience involved.
In parent-child care, the inconvenience is considerable, even when we closely examine on only one act of feeding. It involves gentleness, and knowledge. Parents must know which type of food is suitable, what the baby likes, what is healthy, and what isn’t. They draw on knowledge from academic research, parenting books, and advice from others. They must know how to feed the baby — at what frequency, with what gentleness, how often to offer each spoonful. It’s not just about the food but the entire package of care.
And so, it seems like we can’t mistake who is giving and who is receiving?
But then, when I think of that the beggar must give up their ego, self-esteem, and past status to ask for help. They open themselves up to rejection, being ignored, despised, and even abused. The child also gives up control over how much they eat and must obey the way their parents feed them. You might think the child never had control, so there’s nothing to give up — they are helpless creatures, just like the beggar. They have no choice but to give up.
But do they really have no choices? The child can refuse to eat and spit out the food, which is quite common. The beggar can refuse a penny, finding it insulting because they have some expectation of how much others should give then. These are valid choices and can upset the donor or the parent.
This leads me to think about the art of giving up. Can we give up totally, without holding any resentment? Can we sacrifice without expecting a future return? Is this the unconditional giving up, the unconditional love that we all talk about?
I then thought, if at some point, I can give up the idea of giving up itself, the roles of giver and receiver will blur. It will just be a natural transaction where everyone gives what they can and takes what they need — a sort of utopia. Until then, if I mess up along the way, I’ll start again and again.