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#56: Universality and uniformity

September 27, 2021

Amin Maalouf, a Lebanese-French author, wrote about the role of identity in our lives. He talks about the many layers of identity each of us carries within ourselves which form a blend to create each person’s individual and very unique personhood. The book explores the need to accept our different identities without forcing them into bland uniformity bereft of color and nuance, and to honor this diversity while tapping into the universal desires and dignities that exist across religion, color, nationality, gender or any other consideration.

The idea that there can be universality without uniformity is a useful framework for our times, where we continually bump into those with experiences and identities different from ours. I’d like to apply this idea to a few other fundamentals of being human:

  • We all need sleep but each person has different requirements. Do you sleep early or late, need 6 hours or 9, prefer a hard mattress or soft-as-clouds bed?
  • We all want to feel safe but what makes each of us feel safe differs. Is it healthy parents, a caring partner, well-established children, good health, ample money in the bank, a home in your name, or a full fridge? 
  • We all need meaningful human connection but vary in the quantity and the source; the frequency of interaction, the makeup of social circles, and volume of people we crave varies.
  • We all crave respect but what makes us feel respected may be different. Do we need cultural, verbal or physical gestures? Recognition in front of others, or a raise?
  • We all hope for growth and to be the most that we can be but how we invite that growth into our lives varies. Do we want to read more books per year, travel, run a marathon, get comfortable with public speaking, or raise a thoughtful child?
  • We all crave to understand the purpose of human existence at some point in our lives but we seek those answers and wisdom in different ways and through different lineages.

Skimming the surface of relationships makes us push for uniformity, which can create further disconnect, whereas staying aware of our underlying universality can help open new ways of seeing and relating.

Imagine each of us as a plant. Here’s a rose and there’s an oak tree. A rose cannot be an oak no matter how hard it tries and the only way to create an oak forest is to suppress all roses contained in the soil. Using uniformity as society’s primary tool for cohesion is like wanting a forest lacking in biodiversity; it drives us towards a world with very few expressions of humanity. But when we tap into universality, we get rooted into the omnipresent core within each of us and start seeing the other as yet another expression of humanity rather than a threat. Universality can help us see that underneath the collective soil, the rose and the oak tree might hold hands one day.

“I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.” ― Edward Everett Hale

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#55: The units of society

September 24, 2021

I recently attended a wedding where the officiating minister spoke of the importance of the family unit. I’ve heard such words before but this moment felt different. Over the last few years, I have been reflecting on the importance of social structures and the deep and lasting impact of relationships on our lives; I see the clear impact on mine. I’ve faced the repeated loss of loved ones, and after each loss I noticed how my larger family rushed in immediately―like white blood cells―to heal the open wound. These recent experiences merged with my childhood memories of loss and love; of how my family slowly and steadily put my life back on track after the loss of my father. My aunts, uncles and cousins who stepped in with affection, guidance and resources to support my mother, siblings and me. The thousands of contributions that made my life what it is today. They taught me to care and hope; to make real and non-performative emotional bonds and show up for people. My life would’ve taken a very different turn without this family unit. To this day, they cherish my quirks and smallest wins, and offer solace in tough times. No matter what happens in life, I have comfort in the knowledge that I’ll have someone to turn to and they will have me. This is the unit of society that I grew up with: my big family and close friendships, my wolf-pack.

Then like most people, I flew the nest and created more units. I moved between countries and cities, and rebuilt my social units with every move. Close trusted friendships, neighbors, acquaintances, healthcare providers, favorite coffee shops and restaurants where they knew my name and tastes. I created my emotional and practical footprint and brought the wisdom, values and social behaviors of my wolf-pack to my new friendships. Others that encompassed this social footprint did the same and in turn made an imprint on me. Before we knew it, we had formed a subculture of care and belonging that was an amalgam of each of our histories. This is naturally how we humans move through life. We are raised in a social unit, where we learn to bond with and care for others. And over time, we become capable of extending this care to other relationships–friendships, partners, children, coworkers, acquaintances, and even strangers.

We may not realize, however, that our small and seemingly insignificant social units are the building block of society1 and culture2. 

Our small daily interactions create invisible ripple effects on many people and lives, and not just on those that experience our actions directly. How we interact at the gym, during a potluck dinner, while driving, at the watercooler at work, or in the comments section on YouTube can help build or deplete culture and society over the long term. We live in a constant state of osmosis and observe, absorb, react to and repeat one another’s behaviors; the culture we help build turns back around and impacts us in subtle and obvious ways.

We may not realize that we have the power to determine how others experience life and vice versa. That it’s an endless give and take. That it’s important to become intentional about our everyday interactions and the tone we are feeding our own different units of society.

  1. Society: Involves persistent social interaction between individuals and groups that share the same spatial or social territory, typically subject to the same dominant cultural expectations. Societies are characterized by patterns of relationships between individuals who share a distinctive culture and institutions. A given society may be described as the sum total of such relationships among its members.
  2. Culture: The beliefs, social behaviors, norms and practices of members of a society.

“Society is a dialectic phenomenon in that it is a human product, and nothing but a human product, that yet continuously acts back upon its producer.” ― Peter L. Berger

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#54: The container of love

September 20, 2021

My summer vacations growing up were some of the most memorable times of my life; surrounded by the voices, laughter, and tears of cousins of all ages. My uncle was an esteemed general in the Border Security Force, a part of the Indian armed forces and the largest border guarding force in the world. So every summer, between 7 to 11 kids would descend on the sprawling military campus wherever in the country our uncle was posted. Together we concocted endless escapades that were sometimes fun and sometimes injurious but always memorable.

During these visits, we also got valuable exposure to a mix of Indian cultures and places—the jeep excursions into the rainforests and waterfalls of Shillong, through lush mountains of Jammu & Kashmir, and over desert landscapes of Leh and Bikaner. The farm picnics in Punjab next to gushing tube wells and the endless cold coffees with ice cream. The parties that went late into the night, set to an eclectic mix of music, surrounded by handsome uniformed men with impeccable bearing, and charming women in beautiful saris. Adults with technicolor stories from their saturated, adventure-filled, lives. This only begins to get into the nooks of experiences we had as a pack of kids. Each experience became a cherished lifelong memory and a shared language of connection, a brick in the strong foundation of love upon which our current lives sit.

Then there was this other sad and distressing side to life…when my mom, siblings and I went back home, acutely aware of the gaping hole my father’s death had left in our lives. The sustained psychological and financial impact of losing him weighed us down. The impact that could have completely decimated our lives. But what kept it together is the genuine and lifelong support of family; of my aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins who with their simple everyday acts of warmth created the strongest sea wall that no tsunami of pain could dismantle. With every wave of grief and financial lack that tore at us, they added more stones, more boulders, more cement. No single action might stick out to an observer, they might just note a family hanging out together, but to those of us inside this cocoon of love—especially those marred by grief—these moments of togetherness were profound gifts of care. It’s the stuff you read about in extraordinary tales of love, the stuff they make movies about.

What allowed these actions to germinate was a thoughtfully and lovingly created container. A physical and emotional space that set the ground rules of who was welcome (everybody), how they were treated (like old friends with compassion and generosity), and the tone of everyday life (one of patience, care and adventure). And the people who were instrumental in creating this space for all of us kids were my aunt and uncle, who I started seeing as my second set of parents. My aunt gave me courage and unconditional love, fended off juvenile attacks from my siblings and cousins, and squarely had my back…even when I was the troublemaker. My uncle epitomized courage, sociability and intellectual curiosity—whether about geopolitics, travel or farming. Both were examples of patience and unmatched generosity. Despite the adulation and professional respect he received daily, nobody was too young, old or poor for my uncle to engage with. And while we kids crawled all over his house, he was out there addressing some of the most violent terrorism in the world.

My uncle passed away recently, leaving an enormous legacy of love and impact. Even as our family reverberates with pain, each of us is grateful to have his rare example of care and generosity. There are many generals in the world, but we had our very own Clark Kent with a superhuman combination of strength, integrity, love and humility. We all looked up to him. He was also charismatic and astonishingly handsome. We are blessed to have a first hand blueprint of a very well-lived life. 

Everyone has ancestral lineages, influences and teachings. Mine brim with exemplary love, care and true accompaniment that make a life worth living. Life’s rhythms create busyness and we sometimes forget the nurture that was passed down to us. The last few weeks have brought my family visceral remembrance. No matter where we live in the world, my pack of aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters and nephews have acknowledged my uncle’s container of love in amazingly similar terms. My wish for us is that we embody his traits as we move through life, that we welcome everyone like he did and create a sense of meaningful connection, curiosity and joy wherever we go. That we go on creating more and more containers of love. 

“Character is like a tree and reputation like a shadow. The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing.”— Abraham Lincoln

In loving memory of Ravinder Singh Mehta, our real-life Clark Kent.

Seattle, September 2018

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