May 31, 2026, marked Wesak Day for Buddhists, an important festival commemorating the birth, enlightenment, and passing of the Buddha some 2,500 years ago. Buddhists marking the occasion typically visit temples, make offerings, practise meditation and prayer, and take part in symbolic ceremonies. For me, it also became a chance to return to something I’d been reading recently.
The book is Stillness Flowing (2018), a biography of Thai Buddhist master Ajahn (Thai for teacher or master) Chah, written by Ajahn Jayasaro, an English monk ordained by Ajahn Chah in 1980. On Wesak Day, I spent some time reading passages on giving, especially the idea that generosity isn’t only about the act itself, but also about the state of mind behind it.
This is something I’ve always found fascinating in Buddhist teachings: the attention given to intention. We’re asked to look at what we do, but also at the motives, desires, and expectations that lie behind our actions.
Giving, or generosity, is a major tenet in the Buddhist tradition. It nurtures kindness and compassion towards others, while also helping us notice the attachments we have for possessions and relationships.
In Stillness Flowing, Ajahn Chah reminds us that giving is its own reward. When we give freely, as opposed to being obliged, we need to be careful that we’re not secretly looking for something in return.
Once we attach expectation to giving, Ajahn Chah says, it becomes something else. We’re no longer simply offering help; we’re placing the other person in our debt. From there, if they fail to repay us in the way we imagined, anger and resentment can follow, and what began as generosity can end up creating strain in the relationship.
As Ajahn Chah put it, “You feel angry about this and you think, ‘I performed a good action but received no good results from it. Why on earth did the Buddha teach that good actions have good results?’
“That would be a foolish way to look at what happened. In helping out the man your mind was good and noble, and the growth in those good qualities are your reward.
"The fact that he doesn’t repay your kindness is his own affair. It’s nothing to do with you, it’s his own bad action. You’d be a fool to take the bad action of someone else into your heart. No good can come from that.”
When I think about generosity in this way, I often think about the people who helped me when there was nothing obvious for them to gain. One of them was a primary school teacher, Christine Donohoe. I still remember her kindness in classroom reading groups, and the patience she showed for children who were at an age when confidence can be shaped by encouraging interactions.
Later, when I studied journalism, one of my lecturers, Pauline Taylor, helped me enormously. Not only was she an inspiring teacher, but she guided me and introduced connections that got my career started in the newsrooms.
These are two of the many examples I can easily bring to mind, and because of their generosity, I’ve always kept in mind the value of passing it on when I can.
For example, if trainee therapists ask for resources or guidance, I’m more than happy to help. I don’t expect anything in return, because I’ve already received so much along the way.
I’m also an advocate of feeling joyful about good deeds, which is something encouraged in Buddhist teachings: to recollect what we’ve done for others. This isn’t to instil pride, but to remind ourselves of the shared happiness and benefits of being helpful so that we might be inspired to do more of the same.
I remember the first time I heard someone say, “There’s no such thing as a selfless deed”, and my reaction was to shrug. Why shouldn’t a good deed bring joy to everyone including the person doing it?
A few years after graduating, I happened to meet Pauline while I was covering a story. She came up to the people I was talking to and proudly said, “I taught him everything he knows!”
It was wonderful to share that kind of moment with a mentor who became a friend, and one of the last things she did for me was write a personal reference when I applied to study for my master’s in counselling.
Pauline died the following year. She gave so much to many of her students and she never asked for anything in return but took an obvious pleasure in knowing we turned out all right.
Giving is the gift that keeps on giving, but we need to be mindful of the reward if we’re to receive it and appreciate what it offers.
For my teachers, part of the joy seemed to be in seeing their students find their way, and then try to provide similar guidance to others. That’s one of the best things good teachers leave behind: a way of being that the rest of us want to carry on.
