How Can I Help?: Stories and Reflections on Service

by Ram Dass

Sometimes I help, and sometimes I don’t. I hold the door open for one behind me, or I rush through preoccupied in thought. I vote, but not always. When solicitations come through the mail, some catch my eye or heart and I send at least something. Others I basket as junk mail. A friend is having a hard time. I think I should phone to see how she is, but I just don’t feel like doing it tonight. I’d do anything to help the family. But how much is enough? When to stretch a little further? Whose needs come first? Those close to me get an immediate hearing. The suffering of people more remote gets sporadic attention. I’m only vaguely aware of it. It’s out there somewhere. Whom should I help anyway? Senior citizens, battered children, human-rights victims, whales? Well, if we don’t defuse the nuclear threat, there’ll be no tomorrow. But if we don’t support education and the arts, what kind of tomorrow will it be? If I stop to think about it, I help out for all kinds of reasons. Maybe it’s because I should; it’s a matter of responsibility. But there’s usually a maze of other motives: a need for self-esteem, approval, status, power; the desire to feel useful, find intimacy, pay back some debt. Sometimes I’ll help through organizations. But the purpose of helping and the people who really need it often seem to fall through the cracks. Maybe I’d rather do it one-to-one, keep my options open, help out here and there. I expect my government to relieve suffering. Sometimes it does. But ...