On Sharing and Caring

 Giving and receiving 

There is a very subtle power play hidden in the posture of always being the Giver. 
This psychology is crucial to understand. 

We often think of giving as noble, selfless, even divine — but to give constantly without the ability to receive can quietly inflate a sāttvika ego: the ego of virtue. It hardens into pride disguised as generosity, and becomes incapable of accepting love, help, or correction. 

The ancients were acutely aware of this duality. 
Dānam (giving) and parigraha (receiving) were meant to move hand in hand. 
One who could not give was advised not to receive either — hence the aparigraha-vrata (vow of non-receiving) of ascetics. 
And those who had the privilege to receive — whether through wealth, knowledge, or resources — were in turn obligated to give back through yajña and dāna. 

This mutual rhythm sustained the ethical economy of life: 
to give without humility is arrogance; to receive without gratitude is theft. 

Even in traditional gender roles — the male as provider, the female as nurturer — harmony survives only when, at least occasionally, the roles exchange. The giver must learn vulnerability; the receiver must taste responsibility. 

Psychology, indeed, is astonishing: 
beneath the simple act of giving and taking lies the entire drama of power, ego, and balance. 

Love vs friendship 

There can be no love between two “adults.” 
At best, there is friendship; at worst, a business partnership. 

True love arises only between the child and the parent, between the feminine and the masculine, between Śakti and Śiva, Yin and Yang. 

Love demands polarity. 
It requires one to be desperate and vulnerable — restless, aching, jealous, yearning for attention — and the other to be calm, steady, detached, protective. 
Without this tension of opposites, there is no magnetism, no surrender, no love — only mutual convenience. 

Between equals, there can only be friendship: 
a pact between two self-sufficient beings to share companionship, 
to assist each other through life’s difficulties, 
to soften the loneliness of existence. 

It is a social contract, not an emotional covenant. 
For the moment circumstances cease to align —  
when benefits wane, when space, time, or temperament shift —  
the pact dissolves without resistance. 

Love ends where equality begins. 
What remains is affection, respect, or habit —  
but not that beautiful madness which makes one lose the self in the other.