Article voiceover:
In January of this year, Guy and I travelled to Sri Lanka for our honeymoon. We had both recently left our respective jobs and moved out of our beloved city of Brighton, leaving our treasured community behind to explore greener (read: warmer) pastures, with a dream of opening a slow living retreat somewhere in Asia, close-ish to both our families. We had focused predominantly on Thailand and Indonesia as potential options – tried and tested retreat destinations which would offer us a bit more political and financial stability compared to other countries in the region.
And so, when we landed at Colombo airport on that sunny January morning, it was purely with the intention of enjoying a few months of freedom before knuckling down and beginning our search in earnest. Six hours later, as we sat sipping cocktails among coconut palms, watching surfers ride mellow waves while the sun set over Hiriketiya bay, we turned to each other with the same thought – “I think this might be our place.”
I could wax lyrical about all the reasons we fell in love with this charming little corner of the world – the lush greenery, the diverse wildlife, the delicious food – but in the end, it was the warmth and generosity of the people that captured our hearts. And this has continued to be true as we navigate the big move – a process that, while exciting, has been daunting and even overwhelming in the scope of uncertainty involved. Time and again, the people here have gone out of their way to help us, with no expectation of receiving anything in return, many not knowing if we’d even cross paths again.
Being on the receiving end of these countless acts of generosity, I’ve been reflecting on the principle of reciprocity. As we make this move from the UK to Sri Lanka, I’m acutely aware of our privileged position and the responsibility we have to care for and give back to the community, the land, and the country that have welcomed us so graciously.
When we speak of reciprocity, we often refer to a quid pro quo-liketransaction, where we expect to give and receive in equal measure, or the social norm in which we feel compelled to “return the favour” after receiving a kind gesture from another. While there is nothing inherently wrong with either of these – in fact, I think they can be wonderful ways of showing our appreciation and lifting each other up – I wonder if there is something intrinsically individualistic about this approach.
The kindness we’ve experienced here in Sri Lanka, often from complete strangers, brought to mind another kind of reciprocity – not a transactional give-and-take, but rather the practice of sharing what we have when we have it, and accepting support when we need it, irrespective of who is on the other end of that exchange. This is a principle that is beautifully depicted in one of my favourite tarot cards, the six of pentacles, a card that reminds us that there are times when we are in a position to give, and times when we rely on the generosity of others, and we never know when that balance will shift.
When we give and receive in community, from a foundation of interconnectedness rather than individualism, we grow together and sustain one another. We share our abundance knowing that it will land in grateful hands, and trust that the hands of the community will catch us when the wheel of fortune turns.
With love,
