This is The Nooner, a (very short) daily newsletter slash podcast that has its very own section within Dispatches from Inner Space.
To see the first post, which doubles as an explainer, click here.
Also a quick reminder that you can listen to the podcast version of each post wherever you listen to podcasts.
I’ve been thinking about a sharper, more challenging, and perhaps more useful framing of the Golden Rule. Instead of do unto others what you would have others do unto you, how about:
Whatever is needed is deserved.
Long ago, as a grad student in Boston, I ran into a problem. Every day, I rode busses and trains to wherever I needed to go. Every day, I walked along busy streets painted with pedestrians. And every day, I faced at least one person who asked me for money.
Beggars. Bums. Hobos. Panhandlers. Moochers. Freeloaders. Vagrants.
These people presented me with a very difficult challenge. I had to decide, over and over again, whether or not to give them the money they asked for.
I didn’t have a lot of money back then (sadly, not much has changed on that front), but I couldn’t find my way into the most common solution adopted by my fellow city-dwellers who faced the same challenge, which was a sort of learned blindness. Practice it consistently enough, and the people holding out a cup or a hand for spare change become literally invisible to you.
This problem of what to do with the people on the street asking for money came up in church now and again, and you’d always hear the same things:
“They’ll just spend it on drugs, or booze.”
“The city offers plenty of food and shelter for these people.”
“It’s a systemic issue. A few dollars doesn’t change anything.”
None of these justifications worked for me. There was a callousness in them that my heart resisted.
Others who felt similarly unable to just say no took different approaches, each of them also familiar and predictable.
“Sometimes I can just tell that it’s the right thing, and then I’ll give what I can.”
“I try to offer something I know they can use, like a bar of soap, or a sandwich.”
“I go by the spirit.”
But these sorts of approaches didn’t work for me, either. They all felt like a way of trying to soften the “no.” Or find a way to say it a few less times. And they also seemed to be the product of an exhausting calculation of merit or effect.
Finally, one day I decided it would be a hell of a lot easier if, instead of just saying no, or only saying yes sometimes, I could just say yes. Every time. Without thinking. Without worrying.
So I started to do some math.
How many times, over the course of an average day, or week, or month, did a person on the street or in the subway ask me for money? How much would it cost to give each of them a dollar?
Was that a number I could afford?
I realized it was. I slotted that number into my monthly budget, and turned it into singles.
My problem was solved.
And the solution was shockingly effective. Not only had I completely removed a source of anxiety from my life, I had introduced a fresh vector of joy. I looked forward to the moment when a fellow human would approach me with that familiar look. I looked forward to meeting the eyes of a man against a brick wall with a cup. I could give them a dollar. I knew it wasn’t much, but it was what I could confidently afford to give, and, more importantly, it bought me into a yes.
And those yeses instantly alchemized my fear into love. I no longer dreaded being approached. I loved these people. I wished I could give them more. I wanted them to use the dollar on whatever they wanted. Food, booze, lotto tickets, I didn’t care. I wanted to give them a tiny bit of the abundance of agentive choice I enjoyed every day.
Most months, my budget exceeded the need. Which meant that near the end of the month, I could give away more. Whoops, no singles, just a five. Great!
What I quickly came to believe after I made the decision to just say yes, was that any time someone like that asks me for money, no matter their circumstance, no matter what they might use the money for, no matter anything, they deserve my help if I can give it. Because even if it is just in that moment, they are less fortunate than me.
And what someone less fortunate needs from someone who is more fortunate, is help. Always.
What is needed is deserved.
Always.
The Golden Rule on crack