The penny jar
An analogy popped into my head the other day, the day I came back from my retreat. It's a good one, and it made some things make sense to me, so I want to share it with you. It's about Love, of course, because really, that's what everything is about. It goes a little something like this: when I was a kid, my love was a little bit like a missionary, going door-to-door, looking for a donation, pressuring people into giving, possibly even to a cause they didn't feel at all like giving to, just to get the guy to go away. As I got older, my model shifted to that of a store: I was selling love, and if you deposited enough of your own, you could buy what I was selling - but it always had to be a fair exchange. No handouts here. I had that model in my head for most of my adult life, and even through my marriage. I was the one that counted the christmas presents to make sure that I got as many as I gave. Now, I was very generous, to be sure - but I expected that generosity back in return.
Moving to San Francisco, and going through some of the humbling experiences I went through, made me soften my edges. I realized that you couldn't do Love that way. Love, as the Grinch says, isn't found in a store, and it isn't for sale; at least not in that way. So I was proud of myself for realizing this; I patted myself on the back. My new model was that of the donation jar. I labeled my jar "love", carefully adorned it with stickers and clever bon mots, and then set it out on the corner.
But here's the problem with the donation jar; it's still a bit too grabby. If you've ever been to Starbucks, and seen the jar sitting there, with a clever catchphrase ("Tipping is Sexy"), you know that you immediately feel a bit guilty. Then, maybe, you feel a bit angry that you feel a bit guilty. What if I didn't want to tip? Am I a bad person? That model may work for tipping your Barista, but it still doesn't work for Love. You can't sit there, with a Mona Lisa smile on your face, calmly waiting for love - and seething inside as person after person walks by your donation jar and doesn't put anything inside.
My new model for Love is the penny jar. You know, the take-a-penny-leave-a-penny jar at the counter at the corner store. It's the perfect model. You don't feel guilty if you don't put a penny in the jar. You put one there when you have one, when you can give. No big deal. And you can take one without giving one back. The only thing society asks is that you try to put one back when you can; even better, you don't even have to put one in the same jar. As long as you put one in somebody's jar, we're all good. And I like that model for Love. I want my love for people to be like the penny jar. Except, instead of it only having a few pennies in it, my jar has a lot of pennies. A big huge pile of pennies.
And you can take one anytime you want. Just ask!