#250: You Can Drive My Car
I’m sitting here finding myself feeling a little uncomfortable because of just how much Corey’s piece resonates with me. It’s happened especially recently where a friend has surprised me with little things or gifts when they come over, or even an unexpected holiday card, and I then feel like I need to do something in return. I start to keep score in my head when no one ever actually said that this is a game. The church community I was a part of in college took communion by volunteers standing in the front of the sanctuary physically handing the partakers a piece of bread and the wine to dip it into. I loved this because it was a weekly reminder of how in the Christian tradition grace can only be given to you as a free gift - you can’t do anything to deserve it or to “give back” (although you could pass it on). I think of that image often. Especially in this season of both giving and receiving, I am grateful for Corey’s conviction that it is okay to just receive…and one day I will likely give back perhaps without even knowing.
- Lauren
YOU CAN DRIVE MY CAR
I was about 25 when I first heard about the idea of reciprocity. It seemed like a great idea from the cosmic lens — a spiritual, communal, light side version of “quid pro quo”. There was this Pilates training I hoped to do. I was earlier on in my career, and had much more time than money. The studio owner offered me the chance to join the training, and pay for it by working shifts managing the front desk for a number of months. It felt great to have another way to consider trading with someone else. Of course, the barter system only works in certain places and circumstances these days, but it was a relief to have a way to move forward that was out of the expected “ordinary”.
Skip ahead 10 years to now, and I feel like my bonsai tree of reciprocity is in need of pruning. It’s grown to occupy my every other thought when having any kind of exchange with anyone. I found difficulty borrowing my neighbor’s car even when it was freely given (“take it, here are the keys, no worries”) as if I had to compensate him for the depreciation of driving it around for a couple hours. Which is strangely NOT my usual vibe - thinking of money as the only form of currency. I returned it with a full tank of gas and had topped up the air in the tires; I couldn’t help myself.
I think I’ve developed a pretty good practice of GIVING when possible (I believe it’s always possible). It’s often a wink, a kind word, or my attention; considering time being the most valuable resource. I also enjoy giving people things that I love, which recently meant giving away my own copy of a book that was insightful to a friend. I don’t expect it back, and wish it would keep moving on from person to person, spreading joy like a traveling thought circus. Giving has always made me feel great afterward, seeing the effect my gift had on the receiver’s perception of the world. For that reason, it feels like it gets easier for me every time I do it.
RECEIVING has, more recently, required much more consideration. When I’m offered something, so much comes up about feeling worthy, or deserving, or being allowed to enjoy prosperity both small and large. It seems easier for me to give because I have an understanding of my own resources. When I receive, I don’t know if the giver has the resources to spare. Is it my business to consider someone else’s perception of their own situation or ability to give? But then again, when I think about how good I feel when I give a gift that’s really appreciated, maybe the GIVER gets as much out of the exchange as the RECEIVER.
I’ve used all that I learned in my Pilates training consistently for the past 10 years. It was absolutely worth every hour I spent earning it. There’s this strange equilibrium that seems to always be at work in balancing out — when something is received, it will also be given back. Not to the person who initially gave it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But the spirit of giving continues to be paid forward. And if you ever need to borrow my car, it’s yours. No need to refill the tank.
“And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.” - Paul McCartney