Giving or Sacrifice

Does it feel better to say I sacrificed something, or does it feel better to say that I gave something? That's a very important question for me to ask myself.

Martyrdom in this life is frequently an attitude of sacrificing for the sake of a reward. Delayed gratification. When done among my neighbors, it is about expecting that someone notices and gives me a pat on the back, a little leeway, a leg up. When done from a spiritual perspective, maybe I expect some special reward, an extra gold star.

Spirit loves me no matter what, unconditionally, and holds me in grace. What more can I expect? Reward implies that there could possibly be limitations in God's presence.

What if there is no delay? What if the service is the reward? What if we are getting more reward from the act than what we are giving up or sacrificing?

In the recent release "Well Being", it has been researched and discovered that people feel better about their lives when they spend money on others instead of themselves. (Shopping therapy isn't as effective as giving.) People who volunteer feel much better.

"There is nothing BUT self-interest. The only thing that changes is the definition of Self."

Self can be the bottom of Maslow's pyramid. Self can be our highest good. Self can be the God-centered part of us that is only too happy to be realized through service. Self can begin to encompass our fellow man, and the planet.

At that level of Self-interest, it might not feel like a sacrifice. Maybe it feels like love expressing. What is the other word for Love?

Being Empty

At the conclusion of a Heart Circle, we have a moment to say something about our experience. I said, "I feel empty."

At the time, it was very hard for me to know what I meant by that. The words seemed so inadequate compared to the experience. In the years since, I have gotten a better grip on the logic, if not the actual experience.

We can go into a room that is completed devoid of furniture, and we can see the space that is in the room. You can measure it, if you like. You can see it, you can walk around and dance and reach to the ceiling.

When the room is crowded with furniture, or even people, it seems like we have no freedom to move around, to dance, to flow freely. There's no space.

Is that true?

Did the space go away? Was it replaced? Or is the space "occupied?"

I would say it is the latter. The space is there whether it is occupied or not. The space is always there. When we remove the furniture, the space is still there.

The metaphysical, emotional, and spiritual potential within our lives is always present. It is the "space" of our lives. I frequently will go out and buy some "furniture" to occupy my space; goals, plans, schedules, history, pain, judgments, identity.

As I place it in my "room," I become accustomed to it and think it is a fixture. I forget about the space that underlies it. I begin to believe that it is more important than the space.

I begin to believe it is permanent.

Emptying the room seems pretty dramatic. Just throw it all out in the hall, in the basement, for the garbage truck. A lofty goal.

What if I just remember the space? What if I remember the immutable forces of this life that do not rely on the furniture to support, or to decorate, to create a "mood?"

What if I can remember the space of love, peace, potential that underlies all the furniture that I have drug into the room?

What if I can dance in the space, regardless of history or identity?

Help me to remember...