Further note on dāna

to be read in a quiet setting, not as an essay, but as an invitation

Okay, but... how much should I give? 

Dāna can feel very uncomfortable, especially if we are new to meditation or to Buddhist practice. We are so used to things having a price. This makes the practice of exchange clear and simple (if we can afford it!). If there's no price, how about some guidelines? A suggestion, maybe? A nudge? 

Ah, what a wonderful opportunity to practice wise reflection! Where does this feeling of discomfort come from? Why do we feel awkward about having to decide for ourselves how much to give? When we say “I don’t know how much to give,” what exactly is it that we feel we don't know? I've already stated that there is no price. There is no amount you have to give. You can give nothing, and that would be fine! So what is it that you don't know?

Is it that you don't know how much you're expected to give? Well, that's a different question-- and one that I'll come back to it in a moment. For now, we can simply note that, if there were some specific amount I was expecting, and I told you, and then you gave that amount, that wouldn't really be practicing dāna. You wouldn't be giving as a direct expression of what you feel. Instead, you would be giving to satisfy your need to meet someone else’s expectations. 

“Okay, okay. That all makes sense on some level. Still-- it would be so much more straightforward if you would just give me some guidance!”

Well, here is a suggestion to get started. Try not giving anything. Honestly-- do that, and see how it feels. Make it a practice. If it doesn't feel right, you can give more next time. Set aside the nagging sense that someone (me) might be judging you for giving nothing. You want to look into this for yourself. You might wait a day or two and then set aside a few minutes to sit quietly and just ask yourself, how does that feel? Are you okay with it? Maybe you have good reasons for not giving at this time. If so, great! You've found your price-- it's zero. If you're not okay with this, why not? 

"Well, I don't want to be cheap." Wonderful! Try a different amount, then, and see how that feels. You might also try inquiring into this sense that you don't want to be cheap, or this feeling of wanting to pay your fair share, or however you want to describe the sense of uneasiness around not knowing what to give. What is it to feel cheap? What is it to feel like you're not doing your part? These feelings are a sign that something you genuinely value is not receiving an appropriate response. When you feel like you've acted cheaply or unfairly, there's a part of you that thinks, "That wasn't right. That was beneath me. I could have done better." And so you might ask yourself: in this context, what would it take to not feel that way? What would it take to feel good, solid, upright-- as if you've acted in a way you can really endorse, in a way that makes you feel proud of yourself, or at least not skittish or awkward? What would it take to feel happy about giving?

Inquiring into these questions can be a powerful form of meditation in its own right. But be careful not to turn it into an exercise in self-criticism. This is about learning what makes you feel good; it's not about judging yourself. It's not you who is awkward, uncomfortable, uncertain. It's not you who feels frustrated at having to navigate this weird, ancient, totally unfamiliar model of exchange. Pretty much everyone I have encountered who grew up in the West feels this way, at least at first. This is just our conditioning. It's powerful, but it’s not you— and it contains deep lessons if you are willing to look into it. 

So practice with that. What feels good? What feels right? Get to know these things for yourself. This is wise inquiry. And the answer may change from time to time. You might settle on an amount that feels appropriate and leave it there for a while. Or you might practice every few sessions or so, bringing up this question of what it means to express gratitude, to reciprocate, to give and to receive. Feel into it. It’s a practice. 

Are you worried that I might have some expectations that you're failing to meet? Are you worried that you might give substantially more, or less, than others? But why should that matter? I have already stated my expectations: I have none— except, of course, that you feel free to give whatever you like!

"But how can I know how much to give if I don't know even roughly how much is expected? Surely you must have some range in mind, some sense of what you would expect from someone like me!" 

In truth, I have had such numbers in mind at times. Here's what I do: When ideas like this come to mind -- some sense of how much I would like to "get" out of this -- I make a practice of noticing this and inquiring into it. I remind myself of my commitment to dāna, and I remind myself of the reasons why--for now at least--I do not wish to make a business of the dharma. And then I let the thoughts go. I recognize them as thoughts, I don't believe in them, and I let them go. That's what I do on my end. Can you do the same on your end with your doubts and your worries and your need to give the "right" amount? If you do this, then you and I will be practicing dāna together. We will be entering into the shared heartspace of generosity—together. We will be giving and receiving gifts—together. Let your heart into this practice. Feel the gift. Let it guide you. 

If you're still not satisfied, then here is a final practical suggestion. You might try thinking about some experience or activity you that you value and you typically pay for. How much do you pay for that thing? Does that feel like a fair or appropriate price to you? Then, you can ask how the value of an hour-long meditation mentoring session compares. This is one way to try to figure out what you think is a fair price.

One final word: please, please do not let your experience of dāna be spoiled by worries about how I will perceive you. I am not making judgments about how much you value our sessions based on how much dāna you give. I do not know the causes behind any particular act of giving, and I don’t attempt to know. I receive all gifts -- even gifts of 25 cents, which I believe is the minimum on Venmo -- with genuine gratitude. In fact, I would rather receive a gift of $0.25 that was a genuine, heartfelt expression of gratitude than to receive a fistful of cash from someone who hadn't put their heart into it. This is a personal journey. Let it be about the beauty of giving. Don’t let it be about what others think. 

Having said all that, if you still feel uncomfortable and would like to discuss further, please let me know. I appreciate that this is an unusual practice, and I am happy to think through it together with you.

Yours in the pursuit of wisdom,

Doug