Tithe & Teeth

Yesterday, I went to the farmer's market wearing a lavender tie-dyed dress, and one of the farmers handed me a lavender gladiolus flower that exactly matched it. I was delighted, and she was delighted — there was a bubble of sheer happiness around both of us for a minute — and I thought to myself, Oh, this is what the phrase “wreathed in smiles” looks like...

Did you know one of the most common activities in World War II concentration camps was gift-giving? And nobody had anything to give, really. People gave each other their last bite of stale, moldy bread, a corner of moth-eaten blanket, their own body heat. They gave their voices in song. Often the generous people made it through, where miserly or more desperate ones did not. Giving is a powerful marker of humanity. It shows a commitment to connection that may be required for survival in extreme circumstances, whether you're on the receiving end or the giving one. It's a sign of autonomy and strength, even for people who can't stand up any more or lift a hand to feed themselves.

One of my friends just began “tithing.” Not the practice of giving money to a church, or the medieval dues paid in agricultural products by serfs to owners of the land they were farming, but a newfangled version. “Tithe” literally means a one-tenth part of something: your income, your grape harvest, your salmon catch. My friend heard it might help more money come her way. And it might: a Buddhist I know raises employee salaries when business is slow and says it always turns things around.

I'm happy to improve my cash flow, but what I'm working on now is cultivating deeper consciousness of and gratitude for my privileges: being born middle class, white, able-bodied, and smart into the First World during a prosperous century. I've done a lot of whining these last years while trying to save my house, and it's time for that to stop — at a certain point it's really bad manners. I don't want to forget I'm luckier than most people on this planet.

I do give away books, and time. I read poems at almost every benefit I'm asked to. But I've never thought I had enough money to spare. In case I'm wrong about this, for the rest of the year I'm going to give away some of my income. Not a tenth, because I'm still paying off debt. More like 4%. Every two weeks I'm going to write checks to organizations or people I believe in. My friend says it's an interesting process, because of course, some weeks you really don't think you have enough and want to keep it all. What happens when a big dental surgery bill comes up against sending $53 to Doctors Without Borders? I'm looking forward to finding out. Having 32 teeth in your head is also a middle-class American privilege, after all.

It's very possible to be wreathed in smiles with fewer of them.