Generosity and Free Will

“I was trying to figure out what I should have already told you, but I never have. Something important, something every father should impart to his daughter. I finally got it: generosity. Be generous, with your time, with your love, with your life.” [From a terminally-ill, near death, Dr. Mark Greene, to daughter Rachel, during “On the Beach,” an episode of “ER,” May 9, 2002; emphasis mine.] 

I wrote last time about my fall on the ice during the recent storm. As reported, I did not break any bones; however, the residual effects of the mishap continue to linger on. The trauma of the tumble seems to have taken up residence in my lower and upper back – as well as in my psyche. My spirits are quite low.

In the first two weeks after the storm, I had massage, physical-therapy, and Zero-balancing sessions – in addition to my regularly-scheduled therapy appointment. At this point, though, my recovery still has a way to go. I need significantly more time – andhelp- to facilitate my healing.

In questioning my life’s choices during this period of blueness, I reviewed an essay from February 2006 here on Musings entitled “Generosity.” I have had reason to reflect again on the meaning of this term and specifically its place in the context of friendship.

What am I talking about? Well, I now have reason to believe that what I had experienced as acts of generosity from a friend were, perhaps, deeds that had been misinterpreted by me. I now suspect that perhaps some kind of relational score-keeping had been in play. This has sent me even more into an emotional tailspin, leading me into a deeper examination of my own behavior; to wit: Who am I as a friend? Am I in search of some kind of reciprocity rather than act from a generous spirit? Am I generous enough with my love? My time? My energy? My life? Who am I, really? And, in this context, how am I perceived by others?

I have always believed that each of our lives are comprised of our own individual choices – a sum of the good and/or bad. This long-held belief has, recently, however, come to be challenged. During the last few weeks I have been trying to make my way through Determined by Robert Sapolsky, a dense academic treatise on the topic of free will. Sapolsky makes the compelling argument that, essentially, free will is a myth -- that our livesare really the sum of our biology, our environment, our experiences, of human evolution. The theory is that whatever we choose to do in any moment is dictated by the sum of our life up until the previous moment, that that moment is the result of the previous moment, on and on and on. From Sapolsky’s viewpoint “…all we are is the history of our biology, over which we have no control, and of its interaction with environments, over which we also have no control, creating who we are in the moment” (Sapolsky, 2023, p. 85).

So, in this particular paradigm of human existence, none of us can really be held accountable for our actions – they have all been pre-determined. In fact, every act of mine (ours), lets say in the matters of charity or generosity, are built into us and that we don’t really choose to behave in one way or the other.

I admit that I find myself being quite depressed at the concept that my (and your) existence has already been determined in advance, that my (our) choices are not really choices. Thinking about this interpretation of being human has not done anything positive for my spirits.

So, in sum, right now my body and my soul are in pain. I am seeking help from various sources to manage life right now. But I am in a state of confusion about the meaning of the human experience and what actions I (we) may (or may not) have control over. I am wondering what “choice” is --and whether or not I have the ability to actually choose the right way to work my way out of this painful period.

Reference
Sapolsky, R. (2023). Determined. New York: Penguin Press.

Haiti

It hurts my eyes; it hurts my heart. It just simply hurts: watching even a small portion of the television coverage of the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti.

Last night, for example, CBS’s 60 Minutes had, as its lead story, a description of the 82nd Airborne Division’s efforts to rescue, feed and protect the victims. Included in the piece was the work of some physicians, from Doctors Without Borders, who were amputating limbs with rusty, unsterilized hacksaws – the only “surgical instruments” they had available. We also saw video of some of the thousands of bodies that were being scooped up and put into dump trucks in order to be transported away for burial in mass graves.

The scope of this disaster is unimaginable. I can look and listen, but I cannot comprehend. We’ve seen the tragedies of the Indonesian Tsunami and Hurricane Katrina but, somehow, this feels like it’s in an entirely different universe of terrible.

I feel helpless, despairing, depressed. All I can do is send money. Which I did once. Then did again. I have given to Doctors Without Borders, but there are several organizations trying to help. There’s a list of them on the NBC website.

Generosity

I spent the night of the science fair sleeplessly. The energy expenditure of the day was considerable, though I guess my adrenaline concentration stemming from the experience was too high to be ignored. Fatigue has turned into utter fatigue as insomnia continues. I’m guessing that this condition only serves to enhance my typical, transitory, post-event post-partum depressive tendencies.

I know that I’m exhausted and overly-emotional. And, as happens to me in this kind of space, I tend to socially withdraw a bit and reflect on my existence. What am I doing here? Is this really my life? What can I change? How can I change?

I was touched by a couple of folks who gave me huge compliments today on my leadership ability. Their comments were exceptionally kind and generous, I thought.

Am I that generous with others? Oh, I would like to think so; but I’m not always so sure. Extending sincere appreciation to those around you, I believe, is a mark not only of exemplary leadership, but of generosity and simple humanity. In whatever form it takes, saying out loud words like “I appreciate you” is a powerful thing. The message can be as significant and affirming as “I love you.”

Can we live without being loved and appreciated? Yes, I guess so, but it makes the difficulty level of life much more significant.

I frequently think of the May 2002 episode of “ER” that marked the passing of character Dr. Mark Green. (Yes, Jim, again with a TV show!?) Why this comes to mind for me at this particular moment, I’m not sure, except that is has to do with the concept of “generosity.”

In this episode, Mark is near death and he makes the decision to spend his final days in Hawaii. With him are daughter Rachel, wife Elizabeth, and their baby daughter Ella.

The most moving moment, and the one that has kept flashing into my psyche over the years, is his final piece of advice: “Be generous Rachel,” he says, “with yourself, with your life, with your love. Just be generous.”

I would love to be known as a man of integrity – and generosity. For now: I’m working on it.

Soundtrack Suggestion

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

(“The Circle Game” – Joni Mitchell)

The Kindness of Strangers

I like to go to the post office on Sunday mornings these days. The self-service facilities are great, there are few others there at that time, and I don’t have to stand in line to mail a package anymore. This morning, as I was getting out of my car in the post-office lot, there was a rather pleasant-looking young woman, standing on the sidewalk, waving at me and trying to get my attention. She was probably 20 years old, nicely dressed, but shivering in the cold and wind, nervous, and seemed to be near tears. She timidly asked if she could have some change, as she was trying to get enough together to afford a bus ticket to Salem. She kept saying that she’d never done anything like this before, and that I must “think her weird.” I asked her what the story was, and she said haltingly, in a very quiet voice, that she’d been living up here in Portland for about three weeks, but that her boyfriend had just kicked her out, so she needed to get back to Salem. She said that she thought she’d try asking people for money to see if she could get the sixteen dollars together to pay for the Greyhound to take her south (and “home,” I inferred).

She looked afraid and vulnerable; she was trembling. I very rarely open my pocket or wallet to strangers on the street, but this seemed like a good cause if there ever was one. I had a $5 bill in my wallet, so I extracted it and handed it over to her. She asked if I wanted it mailed back to me, but I said no, wished her luck, and told her to “be safe.”

As I was in the post office, I immediately got to thinking that I should have done more. It was cold out there today. What should I have done? Offered her a ride to the bus station? Paid for her ticket to Salem? Well, yes, to both of those (after) thoughts. I finished up mailing my package, went back out into the lot to find her, but she had disappeared.

I am kicking myself for not thinking faster: for not taking the risk of offering more, and more complete, assistance. Why didn’t I? Why did I hold back? Well, my own fear would appear to be the only answer. I feared the unknown: in terms of getting involved with someone for twenty minutes that I didn’t really know and could turn the tables on me, or enlist me in some kind of bigger “con.” Are those OK reasons?