When I was nineteen I went back to my beloved Greece on a college abroad semester and reconnected with one of my dearest friends from when I’d lived there as a child. Her name was Kiki, and I didn’t realize then how important our childhood friendship had been to us both, and how hard it had been for her, especially, when we’d sort of vanished and she had been left behind in the tiny village where we lived. On this later visit, she wanted to give me a keepsake—something that whenever I held it or wore it I would think of her. We looked at charms, bracelets, pendants, and she begged me to tell me what I liked. I kept laughing and shaking my head, utterly refusing the gift. I didn’t want one from her—I certainly didn’t want her to spend money on me that she really didn’t have. I didn’t deserve it. Exasperated, she finally bought me something, and, still embarrassed by being gifted something I didn’t deserve, I eventually lost it. I think of Kiki now whenever someone offers me a gift. My immediate inward inclination is to politely protest and refuse. But Kiki shows up in my mind’s eye, and, instead, I accept the gift for her sake, as well as for mine. I realize that, like money or love, gifts are a pure and significant exchange of energy, both in the giving and the receiving. Energy needs to flow. So the next time someone offers you a gift, pause for a moment before you react. Take a deep breath. Imagine the flow of energy that giving and receiving creates. Become still in that flow. Then hold out your hands in wonder, surrender, and gratitude, and say “thank you.”
