How can I divert pleasure I “receive” into pleasure I can “give?”
Ok, I receive happiness from certain acts, thoughts and a fulfillment of desires. Now, the question is, whether I — you, or anyone — can extend that joy to someone else? In other words, share it. “Pay it forward” as in the movie of the same name. Can I store it up in some “container” and ladle it out for someone else, whether they need it or not? I’m hoping that in sharing love nd compassion with another, I might touch that one person who desperately needs it? An orphaned child, a crippled old man, a harried cashier at Wal-Mart.
I got a lot of “good” inside me. I’m one of those fortunate ones, a positive-thinker, an optimist. Hate to see all my joy go to waste, particularly, after meditating and reaching such a blissful state, I feel obligated to share it with others. And, maybe I should. That’s what I’m getting to. Maybe that’s my new “job” in life: to bring happiness to others? Am I a carrier of sorts? And, am I supposed to get nothing out of it, except the realization that I’ve done something good?
Met two women at IKEA in Conshohocken yesterday. I asked if they were sisters, knowing in the back of my mind one looked older than the other. “Oh no,” the retired one said. “She’s my daughter.” The daughter smiled, but was less amused with a total stranger implying she was as old as mom. I guessed the daughter’s occupation, a teacher (23 years teaching second and third-graders, I later learned). I also called mom’s old job. An “administrator.” For a manufacturing plant. Both from upstate New York who drove more than three hours to come to Pennsylvania and the IKEA in Conshohocken, some 15 miles out of Philadelphia.
Mom enjoyed the flattery. I had just finished breakfast and two chapters of a book on Kabbalah, and was testing out this “pleasure” principle it mentions. It said that we were created to “receive” pleasure, but can use our free will to “bestow” it — the pleasure — on another. So I used my charm to help make someone else’s day. After a brief talk, I said goodbye, and I walked away from the table with the daughter. She for more coffee, and me to leave the store. We chatted. “Your name begins with a ‘D’ ” I said to her. “I want to say Debbie, but I know it is wrong.”
“Yes, it’s Donna,” she said. I picked up on the name, mentioning Paul Anka and the song he wrote and sang in the ’50s, telling her she was not around then. She said she was born in the 60s. I told her truthfully, I thought she looked young enough to have been born in the 70s. She thanked me and smiled. “You look good,” I said smiling and looking into her eyes, enjoying that flirtatious streak I have being a Sagittarian. (December First!) I then nudged my arm against her — a slight touch, as in a dance — and told her how much I enjoyed talking with her and her mom. We wished each other luck and I left.
Boy, did I feel great! I mean, I got smiles outta both the women. It fed my ego immensely. Talk about pleasure. I felt my internal child do a “hop-skip and a jump.”
I had gotten “pleasure” from reading, and passed it on through words of endearment, and then got back so much more! And I got another great feeling — like chills going up and down the spine — while writing about the event.
I hope those two souls enjoyed the Blarney this Irish-Wannabe offered them. (Both were Irish lassies, I seem to recall) I meant every word and — in the end, the word meant everything to me. You can “bestow” pleasure that you “receive” and see and feel it multiply. Again and again. It’s what Life is all about . . .