When I was a young working girl, my two sisters and I, not from a WASP clan, used to mockingly invoke one of the supposed mottos of the Junior League.

A girl can never be too rich, or too thin, or have too much Tupperware.

The takeaway, of course, was that having an extensive collection of meal savers or microwave and dishwasher safe containers, was an enviable position for any woman (as assumed household manager).

I have a different understanding these days of what a collection of plastic lidded containers means.

They’re TANGIBLE EVIDENCE.

Just yesterday, I spent the morning at my meditation center.  We had a nice program with a long chant and a thought-provoking reading.

I spent quite a bit of time on Saturday preparing food for the brunch we hold after our Sunday satsang.  I roasted different varieties of vegetables.  I made tofu scramble.  I cut fresh cantaloupe into bite-sized cubes.

I put each dish in a plastic tub; 2-quart and 1-pint, square and round.  I had to rummage through different cabinets to find matching lids.  When I arrived at the center, I left my containers on the buffet for other volunteers to arrange the potluck.

I came home with leftovers; with a spicy rice dish, a slice of walnut-banana bread, a deli container of garbanzo beans and dill – a handful of flowers.

I always come home with something. Maybe not of the same weight as what I bring, but with a great variety.  Full of wonderful energy.  The energy of sharing.

During the summer, I’ll meet my sister and some of her friends at Millennium Park to enjoy a meal and a concert.

Some people might bring cheeses or salads or cold chicken dishes, or garden fresh tomatoes, or brownies… Everybody seems happy when they withdraw their contributions to the community table and picnic blanket from their insulated tote bags.

While some of us are very deliberate about claiming the containers we came with.  There’s a sort of relaxed attitude about it.  There will be other events where we will get together and can sort things out.

Everybody wants to add something to what we can all enjoy,  and, besides compliments, it’s not unusual to home with something we didn’t bring.

So now, I look at my eclectic collection of plastic containers as tangible evidence of being in the flow of the cycle of giving and receiving.

You give what you are inspired to give, in my case, what dish I’m inspired to make, and you take home things that appeal to you.

It’s amazing what happens when you don’t have a transactional stance, when you don’t know the exact content of what you’re exchanging.  When you give from the heart, you always get something back, probably something unexpected.

So, when I see my cabinet or storage space on top of my refrigerator full of plastic containers of different makes and sizes, I have to think about returning home from my meditation center or picnic or other event where I brought dish according to plan and came home with something unexpected.

Perfect.

Having faith that giving what you can give will position you to receive something unexpected. – and fantastic – is  no small thing.