“Take a plant. Leave a plant.” In true Portland whimsy, a little greenhouse appeared one day on the sidewalk near my office. Inside, sat a line of plant starts in paper cups and note that encouraged people to take a plant, let it grow, and return with the offshoots it created. I grabbed a baby spider plant and skipped home, delighting in my good fortune and in this little piece of creative community.
You guys, it’s been like almost three years, and I still have not returned with a plant.
I’ve told myself it’s because the spider plant never really made offshoots, (which may have something to do with the fact that I probably don’t water it quite enough), but I can’t shake it: I am a delinquent plant exchanger.
Look, I know that no one is keeping track. No one even knows I took the plant. And, if I had simply paid for it—left a couple bucks in a tin—I likely never would have thought about it again.
But gifts are different. Gifts come with an implicit obligation to reciprocate.
In her must-read book Braiding Sweetgrass, (seriously, if you haven’t read it yet), Robin Wall Kimmerer talks about how picking wild strawberries as a child showed her “a world full of gifts simply scattered at your feet.” In Kimmerer’s indigenous worldview, though they are offered freely and bountifully, these gifts of nature come with “an obligation of sorts to give, to receive, and to reciprocate.”
By giving in return, not only do we keep the earth’s harmony in balance, but we stay connected to the planet and to each other.
The more I think about generosity, (my theme for 2024), the more I realize that I need not think of generosity as an altruistic moral virtue. Being generous is not about being “a good person," but instead is simply about seeing yourself as part of a healthy, functional community. When you give, you do so because you know you have received in the past and you’ll receive again in the future.
The last time I passed by the greenhouse about a year ago, it was empty. The instructions were gone. When we take and do not reciprocate, not only does the bounty die out, but the opportunity for connection and community is lost.
Honestly, I probably will never return a plant to that little greenhouse. I stopped renting from that office space and I don’t even know if the greenhouse is still there.
But, I learned a lesson. And this spring, I sent out an email to all the neighbors on my street offering up bluebell bulbs that I had dug out of the backyard.
A few weeks later, I walked out to my porch to find several sunflower starts sitting on the steps.
What are the gifts, big and small, that you exchange with your communities?
Weekly Gifts
This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.
Week 19, May 6-12: I spent 30 minutes on the phone with a young, queer, artist of color who had lots of questions about starting a coaching practice of their own. They were so grateful for my insight and suggestions and it was nice to offer my expertise freely to this person.
Week 20, May 13-19: I went to see the art of some friends, one who was showing her photography at an art fair and another who was playing fiddle in the park. Both thanked me for coming and supporting them, so I suppose that was a kind of gift.
Week 21, May 20-26: It’s birthday party season for my second-grader, who has taken great delight in selecting gifts for her friends. We’ve spent a lot of time in the toys section of the local Fred Meyer, and I’m enjoying watching my kiddo think about what the people in her life would like.
Week 22, May 27-Jun 2: Every free 90-minute Connection Conversation I do with a prospective client is a gift. I never know if this person will sign on to work with me, but I know that in hearing their story and offering my coaching, I am building my community and I feel held by it.
Week 23, Jun 3-9: A dear friend of mine needed help prepping and serving a fancy dinner she had prepared for a fundraiser for her kid’s school. As someone who rarely asks for or accepts help, I was honored that she let me give her some.
Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.
© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.
