One of the most peculiar and special gifts I've ever received was an envelope of rare Pokemon cards. The gesture was beautiful and sweet not only because of the person who gave it, but because of the thought as well. I am one of those unfortunate people who didn't grow up with Pokemon, so I have no idea what the cards mean. But I knew this much - that it was something very special to the person who gave it to me, and that giving me those cards is similar to giving me a piece of themselves.
I compare it to giving a fish a mathematics paper. Why would this fish want a paper with numbers? How would it even understand such a thing? But the giver was a professor of numeracy, and he had written a formula that he developed on that paper, and it was precious to him. So he gave a piece of himself to the fish, something that meant a great deal to him, without caring that the fish understood it or not. It's a type of sacrifice - but sincere, genuine and pure. It says "here is a part of me that I wish to share with you, for you to keep".
Nowadays whenever I consider giving someone a gift, I backtrack to wonder at the best approach. Should I give something that they like, as per custom? Or should I give them something that means a lot to me, which fundamentally lives up to that famous adage, 'it's the thought that counts'? That thought, when partnered with the most exquisite gift, could benefit the receiver even more. The act of giving, I realised, goes both ways, and some. Be it to benefit the recipient with something they love, or to sacrifice yourself by giving something you love - and then there's the ideal ground, exchanging something loved by both parties.
Another friend of mine gave me The Hunger Games book. It wasn't given to me because I liked to read, or because I had wanted it specifically (I actually expressed how I initially loathed the massacres rampant in the movie) or because I couldn't afford it, in time or money to buy. It was given to me because that specific copy was the first book he had bought, that introduced him to enjoy literature. He had written "this book made me want to read more books and I want to give it to you so you can enjoy it as much as I did". Needless to say, this is one of the most wonderful 'ideal ground' gifts I've ever received.
I compare it to giving a fish a mathematics paper. Why would this fish want a paper with numbers? How would it even understand such a thing? But the giver was a professor of numeracy, and he had written a formula that he developed on that paper, and it was precious to him. So he gave a piece of himself to the fish, something that meant a great deal to him, without caring that the fish understood it or not. It's a type of sacrifice - but sincere, genuine and pure. It says "here is a part of me that I wish to share with you, for you to keep".
Nowadays whenever I consider giving someone a gift, I backtrack to wonder at the best approach. Should I give something that they like, as per custom? Or should I give them something that means a lot to me, which fundamentally lives up to that famous adage, 'it's the thought that counts'? That thought, when partnered with the most exquisite gift, could benefit the receiver even more. The act of giving, I realised, goes both ways, and some. Be it to benefit the recipient with something they love, or to sacrifice yourself by giving something you love - and then there's the ideal ground, exchanging something loved by both parties.
Another friend of mine gave me The Hunger Games book. It wasn't given to me because I liked to read, or because I had wanted it specifically (I actually expressed how I initially loathed the massacres rampant in the movie) or because I couldn't afford it, in time or money to buy. It was given to me because that specific copy was the first book he had bought, that introduced him to enjoy literature. He had written "this book made me want to read more books and I want to give it to you so you can enjoy it as much as I did". Needless to say, this is one of the most wonderful 'ideal ground' gifts I've ever received.
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