How Can I Help?: Stories and Reflections on Service

by Ram Dass

Expressing our innate generosity, we experienced our “kin”-ship, our “kind”-ness. It was “Us.” In service, we taste unity.

The reward, the real grace, of conscious service, then, is the opportunity not only to help relieve suffering but to grow in wisdom, experience greater unity, and have a good time while we’re doing it.

when we break through and meet in spirit behind our separateness, we experience profound moments of companionship.

True compassion arises out of unity.

Operating from the model of the separate self, fear and caution may be the first responses we notice that block the spontaneous expression of our innate generosity. In infancy, when the foundation stones of ego are developed and the world seems very big, our survival mechanisms are called into play very quickly. We feel powerless and vulnerable, and because these ideas are learned emotionally, before reason and perspective are fully operating, they may be surprisingly resistant to change as we grow older. So perhaps we are a little wary of the world around us. However much we might wish to reach out, a habit of self-protectiveness buried within may still hold us back. “Keep the doors locked and we’ll be secure,” says the ego. Our heart responds, “But I’m not happy like that.” To which the ego replies, “Better safe than sorry.”

We may also have to contend with inertia. An anxious, self-protective ego is most comfortable in a familiar role in which it knows exactly what’s expected of it. This attachment, in the face of changing conditions or new demands, leads the ego to hold on to one model of identity unless it has another equally comfortable one to slip into. It’s reluctant to grow, which means opening to the ambiguity of the unknown and learning new roles. This clinging can hold us back from even the simplest actions.

we often identify ourselves, consciously or not, with our shortcomings, we may feel that we don’t have enough, that we just aren’t enough, to help meet the needs of others. We give very little because we feel very small.

Our caution and sense of inadequacy may also lead us to cling to a private agenda that limits the full freedom and generosity of those helpful acts we can initiate.

We may be willing to give, but our self-image has its terms.

Though we may acknowledge, in the abstract, that we are simultaneously physical, emotional, moral, political, and spiritual beings, we seem to cling to one dimension of our identity at the expense of the others. We specialize. As a consequence, however, we often end up shortchanging what we have to offer one another.

So often we deny ourselves and others the full resources of our being simply because we’re in the habit of defining ourselves narrowly and defensively to begin with. Less flexible, less versatile, we inevitably end up being less helpful.

have never, ever, met someone who sees me as whole.…

No one sees me and helps me see myself as being complete, as is.

If we observe our own minds at work, we see that behind all these identities is a state of awareness that incorporates them all and yet is still able to rest behind them. As we loosen the hold of each identity so that we don’t get completely lost in it, we are able to remain light and loose—able to play among these various aspects of being without identifying exclusively with any. We don’t have to be anybody in particular. We don’t have to be “this” or “that.” We are free simply to be.

To taste this freedom increases our flexibility immensely, and enables us to be fuller instruments of service to others.

Or in the presence of one who is dying, we feel that part of ourself which is merely God’s child; humility, prayer, and faith are what we have to share now.

When we discover how exhilarating this is, what we’re getting is just a taste of real freedom, the liberation that comes from loosening our identification with self-image altogether. We experience the versatility of our being and the independence of our awareness. We’re opening up the windows of our little homes and letting in a little cross-ventilation.

Humor also serves to support this awakening perspective.

What else, in the end, do we laugh at but our own vanity and puffy attachment...

With increasing perspective, we see that all of our ego identities, models, and self-images can be useful, but need not be entrapping. We may gain this perspective very slowly, but the direction is clear. As we lighten our attachment to self-image, we find a different vantage point from which to observe who we are.

When our models of who we are fall away, we are free simply to meet and be together. And when this sense of being encompasses all—one another, the park, the rain, everything—separateness dissolves and we are united in compassion.

profound moments of spiritual and religious experience take us beyond identification with our isolated egos. The sense of separateness falls away as we come into some deeper understanding of “It All.” While these experiences do not always easily lend themselves to words, the message of all the teachings that support them have much in common. Don’t get lost in what’s apparent. Go beyond the evidence of the senses and the rational mind. Acknowledge that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophies. Whatever else we may seem to be, we’re also reflections or expressions of … and then we get names for the nameless: “Awareness,” “Being,” “God,” “Life,” “the Formless,” “the Way.” Whatever it is, whatever it’s called, there’s only One of it. It’s present in all creation. We ourselves are rooted in it. It is our essence.

Who we are, from this perspective, begins with the One. Unity, not separateness, is our starting point. And while our ego doesn’t disappear, its importance is certainly put in perspective as a result of having experienced a higher Self.

Despite all our ego’s concerns and warnings of the dire consequences of not being “somebody special,” we are capable of simply resting in our being. We simply are.

To study the Way is to study the Self. To study the Self is to forget the Self To forget the Self is to he enlightened by all things. To be enlightened by all things is to remove the barrier between Self and Other.

it’s important to remember that the object is not to destroy the ego. We’re not declaring war on our separate self. It helps assure our survival and effectiveness. It has a role to play at an appropriate level of our lives. What we’re doing instead is working to establish a new balance between the ego and the higher Self and allowing our higher Self to expand, explore, and root itself more fully in a consciousness of unity.

Ramakrishna, the great Indian saint, likened the situation to a coach in which the driver (the ego) sits atop in command of the horses. The owner (the higher Self) sits quietly within. Because the coachman has never seen the owner, he begins to think himself totally in charge. But when the owner makes himself known, quietly but firmly, the coachman, perhaps begrudgingly but ultimately in his best interests, relinquishes his fantasy and becomes content in the role of … of what? Of servant, it turns out. For then it responds more and more to the call “Not my but Thy Will, O Lord.” The ego finds joy and relief in attuning to the greater Way of All Things, to the larger harmonies of the universe in which it can find its proper place and need no longer be driven by the insatiable need to control. In surrender to its proper station, the ego finds peace. The higher Self is now freer to guide the work of loving kindness and compassion. The character of service also begins to change.

well, they call us “cops”; to me, my job is I’m a peace officer. Now it’s interesting how this works. For example, when you are holding in thought a vision of our unity in good, you frequently spot a criminal motive arising or evident in someone. It’s a kind of spiritual radar. Crimes can be prevented that way—I’ve seen that. And not only that. At the same time, I’m holding to the view that such a person is complete already, and doesn’t need to steal, and will be provided for from universal abundance. So I work not only to prevent the crime but to eliminate its causes—its causes in fear and greed, not just the social causes everyone talks about.

It’s about how the universe is. Maybe they’ll think it’s idealistic; things could never be this way. Well, for me, things are this way already; it’s just up to us to know that more clearly.

Perhaps in the midst of a grim situation near a family sickbed, heads shaking, brows all furrowed, we’ll take a chance and say, “This is quite a soap opera we’re all stuck in here.” Now maybe they’ll throw us right out of the room; that’s how much of a soap opera it is. But maybe it’ll be just what’s needed to break the tension. Maybe a few people will be able to come up for a moment’s air, see the horizon beyond the next wave, remember the big picture, then take a deep breath before plunging back in the midst of it all. We’ve succeeded in interrupting the soap opera for a brief public service message. Worth a try anyhow.

As we become less identified with any single aspect of the separate self against another, we’re freer to know which among them all is most appropriate for a given situation. It’s as if we can be anyone to anyone. Resting behind all roles, we can also be, as it were, no one to no one—that is, we can create a space where whoever we’re with has the best chance to come out from behind their self-image. No costumes, no disguises; come as you are.

Helping happens not because it’s been weighed and considered; it happens because the barriers to its lawful and automatic expression have fallen away.

“To be enlightened by all things is to remove the barrier between Self and Other.”

That’s what the mind is trying to do through all these devices, and through efforts to explain things away.

Pity is another way we keep suffering at arm’s length.

Whereas compassion reflects the yearning of the heart to merge and take on some of the suffering, pity is a controlled set of thoughts designed to assure separateness. Compassion is the spontaneous response of love; pity, the involuntary reflex of fear.

Acknowledging our weakness can soften our defensiveness. We’re not so busy protecting ourselves all the time. We’re much more likely to be there for anyone who is wrestling with his or her own sense of weakness, unworthiness, or fear. We’ll hear each other. To acknowledge our humanness, with its mixture of empathy and fear, strengthens our helping hand.

we have to find tranquillity even in the midst of trauma. What’s required is to cultivate a dispassionate Witness within. This Witness, as it grows stronger, can see precisely how we jump the gun in the presence of pain. It notices how our reactions might be perpetuating denial or fear or tension in the situation, the very qualities we’d like to help alleviate. The Witness catches us in the act, but gently, without reproach, so we can simply acknowledge our reactivity and begin to let it fall away, allowing our natural compassion to come more into play. The Witness gives us a little room.

Not only does it notice our own reactivity, but it also brings into the light of awareness the actions and reactions of other parties in the situation. Now we can begin, perhaps for the first time, to hear them. Less busy pushing away suffering, less frenzied having to do something about it, we’re able to get a sense of what they’re feeling, of what they feel they need. We may be startled to discover that what they’ve been asking for all along is entirely different from what we’ve been so busy offering: “All I want is for you to sit down here next to me. I don’t care about the nurse; the IV is working fine; the bed is comfortable. Just sit with me.” Quieter now, we can recognize such a need—often without it having to be expressed, perhaps even before it’s consciously felt. We’ll just come into the room and sit down and say “Hello.”

What causes suffering for us in the first place? An unpleasant sensation or situation arises. It could be physical pain, psychological distress, general uncertainty about the future, and so forth. These are potential conditions for suffering. But taken alone, these are not the suffering itself. How we react to them determines how much we will suffer. These reactions can vary.

For the child the experience is quite different. Lacking a context that readily allows for stubbed toes, the child identifies with the unpleasant pain and experiences aversion to it. The child puts itself strongly at odds with what is. This resistance to the unpleasant situation is the root of the suffering. Tears may continue after the sensation has subsided. As a reaction, the child runs to the parent for solace.

certain circumstances or sensations are more likely to trigger off greater suffering than others. But suffering can exist even without immediate or proximate cause. We experience it frequently in this general, floating form. We simply want things to be other than they are. What we have … isn’t quite enough. Who we are … isn’t quite satisfactory. How we feel … could always be a little better. That which is … just isn’t right.

Our hearts go out to these people, not only because of the immediate circumstances but because, intuitively, we recognize the response of mental suffering that we ourselves would experience under such conditions. Their predicament awakens our own fears of pain or loss of control. It’s so easy to empathize with their reactions of resistance.

extreme pain need not always be intimately associated with extreme suffering.

the possibility of coming up for air even in the midst of the most painful, even agonizing, conditions. Somehow we sense that we could be with pain in some way so as not to be suffering so much. Just as we have known in ourselves the fear and resistance, so we have also had moments when we have experienced pain, yet transcended suffering.

Just the possibility that such pain need not automatically cause continuous suffering is profoundly important. This possibility, in fact, was the foundation stone of the teachings of the Buddha. He saw that if we could break that link between painful conditions and the reactiveness of mind there was hope of liberating ourselves from the continuous experience of suffering. He realized that pain alone is not the enemy; the real enemy is fear and resistance.

So it gets to the point that the slightest unpleasantness elicits our push against it. We tense in opposition. As the unpleasantness gets stronger, the opposition becomes more formidable. Our hearts are closed down by the fear in our minds—fear of loss of control, of being overwhelmed, ultimately of extinction. Our muscles tighten, our energies become knotted and blocked. And, of course, if suddenly we are hit by enormous affliction and adversity, we’ve no habits except resistance.

Perhaps it may be an image or memory, a physical pain or ache. Choose only one. Let your attention settle around this thought or sensation. Allow yourself to be with the discomfort. Bring your attention ever more intimately to bear on the thought or sensation. Feel the way in which your mind or body tends to push against the unpleasantness, to close it off. Feel in your mind or in your body both the pain and the resistance against the pain: both present … yet separate from one another. Notice your tendency to want to identify with the resistance and to deny or isolate or push away the pain. But instead of reactively pushing the painful thought or sensation away, stay with it … gently but firmly. Now start to loosen the ring of resistance that surrounds the painful thought or sensation, loosening its hold in the same way you might allow a fist to open. Consider the possibility that the resistance to the pain may be more painful than the pain itself. Notice how the resistance closes your heart and fills your body and mind with tension and dis-ease. Keep relaxing the resistance … the tightness … that have accumulated around the pain. Notice any fear that has developed around this unpleasant thought or sensation. Allow the fear to melt … to dissolve … along with the resistance … softening … opening … releasing.… Let the painful thought or sensation float free … no longer held in the grasp of resistance. Keep letting go of any resistance that tries to smother the experience. Al...

We do not, however, insist that others go to the edge of their own pain. Under no circumstances do we judge or condemn another’s suffering. We merely continue to work on our own, steadily, continuously, in all areas of our life. Opening to adversity and discovering in it all the places where we are clinging,

resisting and denying, we gradually cut the cord between pain and suffering. The pain is there, but we can move beyond the suffering. To the extent that we ourselves are free of suffering, our very being becomes an environment in which others can be free of theirs, if it is in the way of things.