Who's the generous one? It's not easy to tell.

I like the idea of being generous. I dutifully offer money to homeless people and a bite of cherry pie to my husband, who decides too late that vegan custard at the local patisserie wasn't the wisest selection. Still, my giving is premeditated, sacrifices assessed. Not until I met teacher and author Sylvia Boorstein did I consider the potential of impulsive generosity.

"Think of giving not as a duty but as a privilege," wrote John D. Rockefeller Jr.

This is the philosophy of Ms. Boorstein, too. She understands how, in cultivating unprompted generosity, we shift our thinking from what we can get to what we can give. After I interviewed her at Spirit Rock Meditation Center in Woodacre, Calif., last winter, she invited me to lunch in the staff yurt.

"Thanks, but my mother's waiting for me in the car," I replied.

Boorstein beamed and said, "She can come, too!"

Five minutes later, Mom and I shared sweet potato falafel that was all the sweeter for the unexpected invitation.

Boorstein described several types of generosity that day. Tentative giving involves the reluctant parting from an object we keep "just in case." Surely, this form of giving has motivated thousands of people to join Freecycle.org, the online sharing network in communities nationwide.

After I signed up, a woman in my city posted this request: "Wanted: Inflatable yoga ball."

My sister had sent me such a ball. But I'm a yogi who likes to keep my feet on the ground. Bouncing blue spheres unsettle me. So the ball gathered dust. Still, I balked at replying to the post. What if I made my peace with the ball? Was it ethical to give away a gift?

In the end, I offered the ball to the woman, who left a grateful note on my porch when she picked it up.

Inspired, I looked around for other unused items. Exercise bands caught my eye. I'd purchased them to work out when I travel, but who thinks about glutes and triceps when exploring Boston or Peru?

I posted the bands on Freecycle, and a grateful businessman claimed them. Next, a spare coat found a home with a college freshman, as did black shorts that flattered in the dressing room - as shorts often do - but not in my own mirror.

My husband, Jonathan, gaped at items on our porch bearing sticky notes with the names of Freecycle recipients. "You're addicted to giving," he said.

Actually, I was determined to unclutter our house. After all, it's easier to give than it is to clean.

Sensing less-than-noble motivation in my generosity, I considered how I might offer "gifts" of intangibles as well. On daily runs, I paused to pet cats and admire neighbors' roses. I drove a friend to the airport, and one day I stifled my impatience when my husband stopped to pick up a cyclist with a flat tire. Exhausted from a backpacking trip, Jonathan nevertheless made a U-turn after passing the cyclist, who was carrying his bike. "Need a ride?" he asked.

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