I came across a new word for me to explore–unselfing. It’s been around for a while. A brief exploration with the help of Google showed me that it’s used in various ways and to varying degrees. Its first known use was in the 1800s and seemed to mean what one would expect it to mean–the opposite of selfishness.

Iris Murdoch used the term to explain what was needed to move away from self and refocus outwardly as a first step in creating loving relationships. She said that when you focus outwardly with such an intention, you leave behind your life and its problems and may put your energy into what is before you. I’m not entirely in agreement because you always bring experiences to your present, which enriches relationships. Perhaps she meant that those things remain in your consciousness while you focus on what is before you. At any rate, the overall meaning remains. Allow yourself to disengage enough from yourself to be engaged in and embrace what is before you.

We’ve seen the epitome of unselfing as rescuers and other helpers rushed to aid the victims of two recent hurricanes that devastated parts of Florida, North Carolina, and other surrounding areas. No matter the cause, there was a helper who most frequently gave toward whatever needed doing and expected nothing in return. Many helpers, without hesitation, left their friends and families to aid those who needed them, an action that clearly defines unselfing. It all sounds suspiciously like being neighborly.

Unselfing and being neighborly are closely related. We are defining moments when we think of someone else without thinking about what we will get from it. Each time we take a hot dinner, flowers, or stop to chat with a neighbor, we redirect to outside of ourselves. Trees are excellent teachers of this lesson. The art of unselfing makes up their entire existence.

Trees teach us to branch out, to share ourselves and our gifts. It’s what they do. Walk through a forest, and you’ll see countless examples of how they move to accommodate one another. They readily share their space. Their roots network through the earth to share information, nourish mushrooms and insects, and pool resources for the survival of all. Canopies of limbs and leaves shelter humans and animals alike. They warn each other about impending environmental shifts. They love one another and understand that they depend on each other for sustenance, not unlike the action of neighbors helping neighbors.

It doesn’t matter if there’s a particular word for relationship building outside ourselves, but unselfing seems to work. I love words like my friend loves numbers. Numbers and words tell us stories about how we are, where we are going, and perhaps, just perhaps, where we might have been had we not been in such a rush that we forgot to focus on what is right before us. I invite you to play with this idea of unselfing. It is the foundation of what it is to be human.