This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess.

• Rainer Maria Rilke

What Have You Got For Me?

One  of  the  greatest  Indian  poets,  Rabindranath  Tagore,  has  written  a  small  poem:  WHAT HAVE YOU GOT FOR ME? The poem consists of a small  story:

Once  while  I  was  begging  from  door  to  door,  I  suddenly  saw  a  gleaming  chariot  pull  up to  me  and  stop. When  I  beheld  its  lordly  driver  step  down  and  smile  at  me  with  searching eyes,  I  immediately  envisioned the  unsolicited  charity  that  would  surely  be  mine.

A beggar  is  relating  this  story.  A  beggar  has  come  out  of  his  house,  and  suddenly  he  sees a  golden  chariot stop  and  the  King  of  kings  gets  out  of  the  chariot.  The  beggar  must  have been  thrilled  by  the  very possibility  that  he  could  get  something  today.

But  to  my  everlasting  chagrin,  this  King  of  kings  suddenly  thrust  out  his  hand  and  asked, “What  have  you got  for  me?”  Oh,  Lord,  torn  with  perplexity  and  indecision,  I  offered  you a  mere  grain  of  wheat  and  on my carpet  that  very  night  I  found  a  grain  of  gold.  How  sorry I  was  that  I  had  not  given  you  everything  I  had!

The  beggar  is,  of  course,  accustomed  to  receiving,  not  accustomed  to  giving.  He  has never  given  anything. He  has  always  been  begging  and  begging.  So  suddenly  the  King  of kings  spreads  his  hands  and  says, “What have  you  got  for  me?”  He  was  perplexed, bewildered,  confused.  He  must  have  hesitated.  He  must  have searched  his  bag.  He  could have  given  more,  but  he  could  not  gather  courage.  He  gave  only  one  grain  of wheat  —  just because  he  could  not  say  no.  How  to  say  no  to  the  King  of  the  kings?  And  by  the  time  he must  have  become  conscious  the  chariot  was  gone,  and  there  were  only  dust  clouds  on the  road.  And  still, the  whole  day  he  must  have  worried  about  that  one  grain  of  wheat  less in  his  bag  today.  He  must  have thought  again  and  again;  it  must  have  been  like  a  wound. And  in  the  night  when  he  comes  back  home and drops  on  the  floor  all  that  he  has  begged in  the  whole  day,  he  finds  a  grain  of  gold.  Then  he understands. Then  he  cries  and  weep, but  now  it  is  too  late  —  where  can  you  find  the  King  of  kings  again?  Where? Now he wants  to  give  everything  that  he  has,  now  he  has  found  the  illogical  logic  of  it:  that  which you  give becomes  golden,  and  that  which  you  go  on  hoarding  becomes  dirt.  If  you  hoard gold  it  becomes  dust;  if you  give  dust,  dust  becomes  gold  —  that  is  the  message  of  this beautiful  anecdote.  And  I  absolutely  agree with  it.

It  is  not  just  a  parable:  it  is  a  true  secret  of  life  —  give  and  you  will  get  millionfold;  share and  in  the  very sharing  you  will  become  richer.  Go  on  hoarding  and  you  will  become poorer  and  poorer.  You  cannot  find  a poorer  man  than  a  miser.  He  may  have  much,  but he  has  nothing  —  because  you  can  have  only  that  which you  have  given.  It  is  a  paradox only  in  appearance.

Let  me  repeat  it:  You  possess  only  that  which  you  have  given;  you  never  possess  that which  you  have hoarded  —  you  become  a  master  of  something  which  you  share.  Share! unconditionally  —  because everything  is  going  to  be  taken  from  you  anyway;  death  is going  to  take  everything  from  you.

And  death  will  not  beg  —  it  simply  snatches  away,  it  robs.  It  doesn’t  ask  your  permission; it  doesn’t  knock on  your  door  and  say,  “Can  I  come  in,  sir.”  No.  It  simply  comes.  By  the time  you  are  aware,  you  are  gone. By  the  time  you  can  do  something,  everything  has been  taken  away.  Death  is  going  to  take  everything.

Before  death  knocks  on  your  door,  share  —  whatsoever  you  have.  You  can  sing  a beautiful  song?  —  sing  it, share  it.  You  can  paint  a  picture?  —  paint,  share  it.  You  can dance?  —  go  and  dance,  share  it.  Whatsoever you  have  —  and  I  have  never  come  across  a man  who  has  not  much  to  share.  If  you  want  to  share,  you have  too  much  to  share.  If  you don’t  want  to  share,  you  may  have  enough,  more  than  enough,  but  you are poor,  you  don’t have  anything.

Why be possessive? The possessiveness shows simply one thing – that you cannot trust existence. Non possessiveness is basically trust in existence. There is no need to possess, because the whole is already ours.

– Osho

Excerpted From A Sudden Clash Of Thunder CH: 9