When We Give Ourselves
Giving of ourselves doesn’t mean getting rid of ourselves for another’s sake. What can we offer if we have nothing to give? Perhaps it’s about loosening our grip so we can offer everything. And by offering everything, we lose nothing — we gain everything. It’s like opening our hands, our arms, our heart to another. It means releasing our defensive, me-first nature and connecting as equals, discovering strength together.
Clinging to ourselves or others is a symptom of panic and fear. We often believe that letting go — of our defenses, or even of someone we love — will leave us empty. But when we release our grip, our panic, our hoarding of self, we uncover what we truly are. We think nothing will remain — but we’re wrong. Everything remains.
Caring for others doesn’t diminish us; it empowers us. We access and strengthen our natural confidence by giving to others. From Buddha’s perspective, this isn’t self-abandonment but the softening of our defenses so we can truly see another — what they need, and how we might help. Yet this requires strength. Compassion is not submission; it’s a dynamic, equal relationship.
Countless songs, stories, and films tell us another person is “everything” to us: You are the sun and the moon. You are all I need. Beautiful, yes — but also red flags. If you are nothing without me, what can you offer me? How can love be mutual if it isn’t equal?
When under pressure — attacked, afraid, or exhausted — our instinct is to inflate ourselves in defense. But that self-inflation closes us off. We may feel we have nothing to give, yet what we can always offer is connection — even in asking for help. When we hold each other in hardship, we discover mutual strength. When we’re pushed to the wall, we can let the wall hold us and still reach out to hold another.
There are countless stories of people once in conflict who, through shared adversity, forged deep bonds. One photograph shows a fawn and a kitten cuddling — found by firefighters after a blaze. The image is both heartbreaking and heartwarming. Perhaps that’s the synthesis: heart-opening.
Our hearts break just enough to crack our defenses, allowing connection. That being — holding us in turmoil — touches our heart as we touch theirs. This goes beyond gender, religion, culture, or attraction. It’s the raw human pulse beneath all that.
You could say our world is at a crisis point — and all we truly have to rely on is each other: our hearts, hopes, dreams, and shared aspiration to live with kindness and respect.
If we want a world of kindness, we can’t wait for others to model it. Nor can we carry it alone. Compassion is a mutual agreement among beings.
Buddhist compassion asks us to look beyond labels and see the truth at the heart of being. What makes us human, animal, alive — part of this planet — isn’t hatred, fear, or violence, even for survival. Our survival depends on union and communication.
Benjamin Franklin said, “If we don’t hang together, surely we will hang separately.”
At the root of compassion, in the heart of the Mahayana tradition, lies the knowing that our heart is vast, capable, and strong. Our limits are not imposed by others or society — they are imposed by our belief in those limits.
When we trust the vastness of our heart, extending it to others becomes natural. And necessary. We have the freedom, power, and strength to do so — not for reward or debt, but for shared survival.
This isn’t a power play. It’s an act of mutual care that may be accepted or misunderstood. Still, we return to letting go — not discarding anything, but keeping the heart of kindness intact. Letting go of the outcome. Letting go of ourselves — not to diminish, but to open, open to the sadness and the joy, the beauty and the dross, the fear and our bravery in the face of it all.
We don’t need to put others down to lift ourselves up, nor shrink to help anyone rise. The weak claw their way over others; fomenting hate to get ahead. True strength comes from openness — from seeing ourselves in one another.
And our bravery in the face of it all.