What Does it Mean to Truly Serve with ‘No Strings Attached’?

Liberation Without Identification
March 24, 2009. Early afternoon.

Up until now I have been proud of my affiliations with the Metta Center and with Charityfocus — nonviolence education and experiments in kindness/genorosity…what could be more noble? What could be more benign/non-threatening? What identification could illicit more instant respect and admiration from someone? What affiliation could act more as a peace passport?

I had a series of events happen to me in the last few hours that changed my perspective.

* * *

After dropping my sister off at the train station, I decided to stop at the bank because I was out of cash. On the street ahead of me I saw a middle-aged man selling an independent newspaper. Many people were passing him by without even acknowledgment. Now I’ve purchased this paper before, read it through, and that was enough for me. Since then I have not felt compelled to buy another paper, though I do acknowledge the value of offering an independently-produced paper in return for a donation, as opposed to pan-handling, and I want to acknowledge the existence of other beings, regardless. So I said hello as I walked by.

Hi, would you like to buy a paper. No, thank you. A look of bitterness and disappointment. But I’m coming back this way and I’ll stop and chat. Oh, ok.

How can I serve this person? I decided to try an experiment. I withdrew forty dollars from the bank, in small bills. On my way back I stopped and chatted a bit, then I made the proposal. I was to give him five dollars, for five papers, and together we would offer them freely to people, instead of trying to sell it to them. “Ok, let’s do it.”

Interesting results. “Here, take it, it’s free.” Many people still walked by. More disappointment. Then, a taker. Encouraging. We worked on the pitch. “Would you like the gift of some empowering information about homelessness issues for the concerned citizens?” Turns out a few people actually identify as concerned citizens. More takers. Within ten minutes we had given away six papers (I offered another dollar for the sixth), and exchanged brief stories about what we’re doing in life. He was pursuing a bachelors degree in political science — just to be informed, not to work in the field. After this he was going to the library to study for a critical thinking class he was currently taking. “Never too late to get an education.” He asked what I do. Oh I work at a center for nonviolence education, in the spirit of Dr. King, Gandhi, Aung San Suu Kyi, and other great nonviolent actors. As we parted he told me thank you and that he was inspired. So are you, I told him. I hope I continue to pursue knowledge and wisdom with such diligence. Wisdom, he told me, comes from applying knowledge that you have learned. With a smile, we parted.

Act two. Not a block away I approached an older woman asking anyone who would listen where the local Y was. She had about 5 bags with her. I told her I was heading that way and can I help her carry her bags there. We also had a nice chat on the way. Thank you for doing this, she told me, very kind of you. No problem at all. When we got to the door of the Y I tried to offer her the extra newspaper I had on me, with a smile card slipped in. I probably wasn’t going to read much of it anyway, and maybe some of the information would be useful to her. Perhaps she would even find the smile card and be connected with a community dedicated to bringing more kindness into this world. Her demeanor immediately changed. Oh no, my hands are full, I can’t, she said. Thank you, thank you…thank you, she said, waving goodbye and backing away, more than ready to part ways.

Why had I done that? Was there a string attached to my helping her? Did I think she needed more help beyond that and I wanted to leave her with some resources that I deemed worthy? If I had just cheerfully said goodbye at the door, would that have been “not doing enough”?

Act three. A few blocks later I pass by the public library and decided it’s time to get my library card finally. As I’m registering my card at the desk, a man approaches behind me and tries to get the attention of the librarian, and becomes slightly agitated when he gets no response. I recognize this man. Hey, I know you, I say to him. We shake hands. Oh yes, we met many months ago, nice to see you again. He needed help with his computer; all the librarian could suggest was perhaps someone would volunteer to help him. I told him I would volunteer.

We worked on his computer for a while, then it came time to part ways. What do you do, he asked me. I work at a center for nonviolence education (which was where we had last met, actually). He had something to say about nonviolence, and a warning to avoid the pitfall of parroting others who idolize Gandhi. Gandhi caused lots of problems, he said. I listened to him, trying to find the message of value underneath his apparent bias. He did not have anything to offer in terms of supporting evidence for his claims, so there wasn’t much to agree or disagree with, but I did hear him.

Before we left he took down my email address and he also offered me a gift of a book he had translated. I read the cover. “Rumi & Muin: Burning in the Love of God” I had been wanting to read Rumi. Thank you! I told him. Good to see you again, take care.

On my walk back I started to read the parable of the parrot, by Rumi. About half way through I began to feel as if there were a string attached to this book. The annotations, included with his translations, included notes on “how to distinguish between the true shaykh and the false shaykh.” … [need better explanation here] … This man identified as a shaykh himself (as I read in the cover of the book).

Would he have given me a book if it weren’t related to the religious affiliation in which he was serving? How would I receive this gift now given this context? I observed my reactions, and decided to sit with it a bit longer. But the feeling that was welling up inside of me was gently profound and quite poignant. How often have I served others, and had strings attached to that service? How often do I push solutions on others when they are not wanting/needing it? How do I feel when this happens to me? How can I continue to dissolve this proud identifying part of myself and be selfish, while fully knowing what truly in my self interest?

And my lesson in strings attached was complete. I had served without strings, but offered some identification/affiliation information when asked. I had served with a string, and felt my connection with this woman dispel. I had interacted with a man just for the sake of goodness, but soon identifications and the burdens of biographical background were included into the mix, and I was left with the aftertaste of overly-cooked agendas.

So what does this mean for me? I am not an employee of Metta. I am not a member of the CF posse. The same way I am not my body, I am not my mind. I like how Peace Pilgrim puts it: I am that which activates the body. I am that which serves through the structures of Metta and Charityfocus. I am — we each are — cores of truth. And when our identifications and affiliations get in the way of the manifestation of this truth, then they are not needed and can be put aside, until they are useful again.