Is generosity fearless love?
Sounds poetic, doesn’t it?
But what about boundaries?
Are they a betrayal of generosity… or the only reason it survives?
Let’s be real: sometimes you give with a full heart and open arms, and the universe repays you with… nothing. Not a thank you. Not a smile. Not even a cosmic “you’re on the right track.”
And that whole “tenfold return” idea?
Yeah. I’ve smiled at that too. Mostly while muttering, where’s my tenfold, universe? I’ve got receipts.
But here’s what I’ve come to understand:
The universe doesn’t give back what we wish we were giving.
It gives back exactly what we are giving.
If your generosity comes with strings, expectations, or a low-key cosmic invoice tucked in your heart... then that’s the energy being broadcast.
But if the giving is clean—pure joy, no return address—then something else flows.
You may not get the return you imagined.
But you’ll get what you need—even if you don’t know you need it yet.
The Boundaries Bit
There’ve been times in my life when I needed help and none came.
No hand reached out. No shoulder showed up.
That’s not a tragedy. It’s clarity.
It taught me how much help actually matters.
So when I can help—whether it's a friend on the edge, a baby squirrel in the driveway, or a stranger who just needs a minute—I try to show up.
That’s my joy. Not my obligation.
But I’ve also learned that generosity without boundaries isn’t fearless—it’s flammable.
Boundaries aren’t fences. They’re not locked doors.
They’re sacred lines of self-knowing.
When I feel the needle inching toward depletion, that’s when I check my signal:
Am I still giving from joy—or from guilt, fear, or compulsion?
The soul knows the difference.
Generosity Is Its Own Echo
One time, I asked for beta readers for my book Soul Detective.
Within one hour, fifty people responded.
Fifty.
Meanwhile, I had friends who were struggling to get five. And not because their work wasn’t worthy.
It’s just... the universe has its own quiet radar. It notices. It mirrors. It answers in its own language.
I’ve poured love into this world in a thousand invisible ways—caring for wildlife, being a home for rescue animals, sitting with someone who needed to be heard without rushing in to fix them.
That love didn’t boomerang back in some dramatic movie moment.
But it’s in my life. It’s in the way strangers show up when I need them. It’s in the people who read this right now.
It’s in the rhythm of the world that keeps bringing the right connections at just the right time.
Thoughts, Records & Other Relics
Your conscious mind? It’s not the driver you think it is.
It’s great at brushing your teeth, tying your shoes, learning the alphabet. It’s a champion at managing your calendar.
But the deeper currents—intuition, generosity, creativity, healing—that’s not where the conscious mind shines.
Sometimes I catch myself listening to the same old thought patterns.
You know the ones.
Like a broken record.
(For those under 40, a record is a round vinyl disc people used to listen to music on. You had to flip it over halfway through. Wild times.)
Anyway, these thoughts repeat. Predictable. Dull.
They’re not inspiration. They’re just echoes.
But generosity? That’s something else. It breaks the loop. It opens you.
When you give freely, without scripting the outcome, you’re not just helping someone else—you’re getting to be more you.
You’re reminded you have something to give.
That’s magic. That’s fearless love.
So, Is Generosity Fearless Love?
Yes.
But only when it’s rooted in truth.
When it’s backed by boundaries.
When it expects nothing.
When it simply says:
“I can do this. And it brings me joy to do it.”
That’s when generosity becomes a form of spiritual listening.
That’s when animals trust you.
That’s when people feel safe opening up.
That’s when the universe starts answering you in ways you didn’t expect—but deeply needed.
So here’s to generous hearts and wise boundaries.
To giving with joy, receiving with grace, and trusting the quiet choreography of the cosmos.
You don’t have to give everything.
You just have to give what’s true.
With love,
Nancy
