I have a friend who is an artist.
She was going through a bad patch, commercially, and had sold no work for a couple of months. Which was tough, because her art is how she pays the bills and feeds her family.
So when she was approached to donate one of her works to an auction raising money for a charity she liked, her first response was, “No, I can’t afford it right now.”
Sitting in her studio looking at her unsold work, however, she realised that she could afford to be more generous. Sure, there was an investment on her part. The canvas, the paint, and especially the framing — it all costs money. Then there was the rent on the studio, and her time.
But that was all spent, whether she donated or not. So she called the fund-raiser, inviting her to come to the studio and choose a piece for the auction.
The painting went for quite a sum on the night.
Almost double her normal price, which was a real confidence boost at a time when she’d been feeling low. Then she got a call from the bidder who had been runner-up. He still wanted one of her paintings, so he bought it directly from her.
A few weeks later, the fund-raiser also called. She’d been thinking about a much larger canvas she’d seen on the wall of the studio, which would be perfect for her own home. Was it still available? It was.
“I gave one painting, and sold two more as a direct result,” my friend said. “But that wasn’t the main thing.”
Her attitude had changed.
She had been feeling needy, she realised. Focussing on the income she was lacking, she’d been hustling studio visitors to buy, instead of simply enthusiastically explaining her work to them as she usually does.
Giving away a painting instantly made her feel more open, generous and expansive again, to see abundance where she’d only seen scarcity before. She could give away work because she was full of ideas, and could always make more. And as her attitude shifted, so did her art. People magically started buying again.
This might seem woo-woo. And certainly, I’m not saying you’ll get immediate financial returns every time you give. It’s about how it feels: the feel-good endorphins it releases can be the reward in themselves.
So what are you hoarding?
And how can you be generous instead? It might not be work, or anything that has a monetary value. It could be ideas, contacts, information, time.
Perhaps you could really help someone up-and-coming in your profession, but you’re worried about creating a new competitor.
I get that. But over 30 years as a writer and editor, again and again I’ve been on a TV set, in a radio studio, on the phone to a PR or pitching for work at a magazine and received unexpected warmth or generosity from someone. “You won’t remember me,” they say. “But you gave me some help on the phone when I was a student…”
I’ve often regretted being mean.
But I’ve rarely regretted being generous. And countless others have given to me, when I needed it, without asking anything in return.
I owe my career to more experienced writers who took time to mentor and encourage me when I was starting out. And to editors who helped me shape vague ideas or just took more time than they needed to, showing me how something I’d written could be improved.
I met one of those editors recently, and finally got to thank him for the guidance he’d given me when I was a shy teenager, just starting out. I’m hoping our conversation cheered his day as much as it did mine.
Just give, when you can.
I’m not advocating working for free, for people and organisations who can well afford to pay. That’s just a recipe for resentment, and we all need to make a living from our work. We can’t live on exposure.
It’s more about moving through the world in a way that is generous and open-hearted.
You give because it feels good. Because it makes you appreciate all that you have, and see abundance instead of scarcity. Or you give simply because someone needs you to.
Mentoring or helping someone less experienced than you is rewarding in its own right. Teaching what you know often helps you clarify your own thinking and processes.
Generosity isn’t transactional.
Sometimes, I helped young journalists with contacts, feedback, support and didn’t get so much as a thank you in return. But far more often, that person would return the favour years later by giving me work, or sharing their own contacts, knowledge, support.
Often, generosity costs nothing at all. It’s just about noticing.
When you jump up and open the door for a tired mum struggling with a baby buggy, or you give up your seat on the bus for someone laden with shopping, or you stop a bunch of kids bullying another child — it’s not because you want something in return, but because it’s the right and human thing to do. And one day, you might need a stranger to be human to you.
An experiment with generosity:
If you’re sceptical, try this. Look for three ways to give, every day. Try it for a week or so, or for the next 30 days. And see what happens, how it feels, what shifts inside of you.
If you like it, rinse and repeat!
What do you think?