Philanthropy | Kontrary

I have a dream book. Not the kind where you put your sleepy, bleary-eyed memories of the night before under shut-eye, but the kind where you sprint to write down all the excitement in your chest before it escapes you forever. The kind where you write down how, exactly, you plan to change the world.

I’ve had this dream book since Christmas of 1998, a gift from my mother. I read it over the other day, and smiled at this entry –

“I want my generation, the time that I live, to be great and remarkable and groundbreaking. I want my generation to be the one with the first black and woman presidents.”

This was before Obama and Hillary declared their intention to run for President of course, and before I knew how close my dream would soon be a reality. And as I read those words, I got goosebumps that something that I desired so badly had come true.

Most of the dreams laid forth in the book aren’t as grand though. They’re more to do with me, less to do with the world. And yet, for eleven years, the same themes keep popping up. Keep returning and haunting the page. For eleven years, I’ve wanted to change the world in the same ways, and for eleven years, I haven’t.

Now, to be fair, I’ve done quite a bit. And an outsider would probably say that my involvement in changing the world, while not extraordinary by any means, is passable for the average human. I’ve made a difference. And that’s good.

But in my dream book, the one where it’s quite visible that my mind is racing faster than my pen can keep up, I don’t want to be average. I want to inspire and empower and make change. Like in education. And equality in design. And the environment. And public art. Things that connect people and community and show our common humanity.

And at the end of my life, I hope it’s goosebump city from so many of my dreams coming true. Today though, I’m going to stop writing in my dream book, because there are enough words. Now it’s time for action.

This was originally posted on Akhila Kolisetty’s Be the Change series. Go ahead, take a peek, and share your comments over there.

I volunteered last Thursday, walking people through the food pantry, keeping track of their points, because we didn’t have enough other volunteers. The food pantry is just like a grocery store. Clients can choose their own food based upon a point system that is roughly equal to dollars.

My second client is a young Hispanic woman who doesn’t speak English. She smiles politely whenever I ask a question. Her two or three year old son sits in the front of the cart. I can’t get him to smile. I have little patience for kids lately and figure it must be his naptime.

I gesture wildly to try and explain what I’m saying, realize the same smile remains on her face, and pull what little Spanish I know out of memory. Packs of Jello are 3 packs for 1 point. I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten Jello.

“Tres por uno punto” I say.

I tickle her son as she chooses among the different flavors. Nothing. I think he actually glares at me. I decide I don’t care if the little monster smiles or not. At least he’s not screaming.

I volunteer when I forget why I do what I do. When no money has come in for our campaign and my committee members don’t return my phone calls. When I decide to ignore the piles that need to be filed and I can’t stand one more minute in my office.

Recent studies, The Chronicle of Philanthropy reports, show “donating to charity activates the same brain responses that evoke the pleasurable sensations associated with sex.” Which is why when everything goes so wrong, giving is oh-so-right. Philanthropy is like sex. I can equate just about everything to sex, so this doesn’t surprise me. With philanthropy and sex there are two universal truths:

It’s no longer fashionable to wait.
Despite statistics that show Generation Y is one of the most involved, I still run into young workers who aren’t on the pleasure train. You don’t have to be rich or bored to make a difference. Too many people believe they will wait “until…”, to donate or volunteer: until you’re successful, until you have time, until your loans are paid off, until you make enough money, until you move, until the mortgage is paid, until the kids are grown, until you die.

Truth is, there’s never a good enough time to start. Like exercise (or sex!), philanthropy should be part of your daily regime to become a better person.

The more you give, the more you receive.
A local philanthropist I know tells about the difference between the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea. While both seas are fed by the same river, the Dead Sea is oppressively dark and people drive miles out of their way to avoid it. The Sea of Galilee, on the other hand, is clear and beautiful. The only difference between the two is that the Dead Sea takes in everything it receives and nothing is given away. The Sea of Galilee, however, has an outlet, and for every drop that comes into the sea, another drop is given away.

Volunteering or donating helps the person you give to and by giving, you feel good as well. The pleasure of giving is at once both selfishly indulgent and selflessly divine.

I’m not thinking about any of this, however, as I walk the mother and son through the last aisle in the pantry. I’m anxious to leave and I watch the clock, worrying if I will make it to the post office on time after work.

The mother finds some cheddar cheese in the cooler, as her son plays with one of the jello boxes. I hold onto one end of the box and shake it lightly back and forth in his hand, whispering “cha-cha-cha.” His eyes light up and he smiles. Finally. Then I smile too. And what do you know, that makes my day.

Give + Receive = Bliss