Thoughts About Offerings
I finished my movement time and came here to write, "The world needs what you have to offer." And while I do believe this to be true, beyond the shadow of a doubt, what rose up immediately after that was this: You don't owe the world anything. (Do you?)
Let's look a little more closely at this idea of "offering." The word itself has roots in the Old English "offrian," which means "to sacrifice something to a deity."
Social media in particular can compound a message that we have to be constantly "offering" ourselves up. Even when the context is supposedly positive, this can amount to a subtle pressure to share our gifts, as if to not do so is somehow hoarding them. And if you bring the concept of sacrifice into the equation, things get even more interesting.
What are we sacrificing if we offer and offer without taking the time to be with ourselves in quieter ways? What "deities" are we putting in front of the importance of spending time with our own hearts and perhaps the kinds of internal conversations the world will never hear?
A true offering, in the way I see it, is something with no expectation of anything in return. It is given freely, from the heart, in a spirit of generosity. Is it an obligation or a choice? How do the two differ?
It is also an expression of respect or appreciation. When I visit a grave, for example, and leave a small stone, I am offering an acknowledgement to that person's spirit. I am saying, "You were here, and I was here, and it mattered." There's a quality of not knowing how, or even whether, an offering will be received. We have no control over that part.
As I sit here, a window open, birds singing and chirping and calling in the new day, these thoughts wander in and out, like the breath itself. Cars go up and down the hill at the end of the street. The treetops bear evidence of a slight breeze.
I open to the questions and let go of the need to answer them. And I offer them here, sending them off in your direction, to land or not, to have little lives of their own.
