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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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#43: The courage of idealism and hope

July 5, 2021

Let’s level set first by defining what I mean by an idealist. Dictionary definition: one that places ideals before practical considerations. Given current zeitgeist I should also add that to me an idealist is someone that engages in meaningful action (even if private) and not just talk, and isn’t driven by the need for excessive public adulation. With that out of the way, let’s proceed.

Most people will tell you that they hope for a future that is kinder, more inclusive, equitable, and abundant and yet we use the word idealist as a slight against those that dare to dream and care; as a shorthand to say that this person doesn’t understand the realities of life. In a culture over indexing on the immediate, anything that doesn’t guarantee a short to mid-term outcome is considered a waste. We forget that these idealists, optimists and visionaries see the same broken parts, feel the same sadness and distress that we do and instead of becoming cynical, closed and selfish, they choose the expansiveness of hope.

Humans have instincts to leave the world better than we found it, but we are also instinctively self-protective, tribal and prone to othering. When this instinct for self-protection mixes with the awareness of our fundamental fragility, it creates a push towards selfish and short-term thinking. We become incapable of imagining a future that doesn’t have us in it and because we crave to experience the gains of our labor, we try to bring that more abundant future to us…sometimes by stealing from it. This manifests in us creating business models that become sustainable only by ignoring ethical considerations, products that destroy precious natural ecosystems, supply chains that dehumanize those that we don’t come in personal contact with, user interfaces that spool people in threads of addiction and consumption that they find hard to untangle from.  When this fear-based part of us wins, we also create divisions and hierarchies that further feed the instinct for self-protection―sexism, elitism, racism, ageism to name a few.

There is no “they” that inflicts these pains, it is “we” that do. And humans will continue inflicting hurt in one way or another till we roam the planet. I’m not making harsh judgments, I’m trying to be as clear-sighted as I am capable of being. Given certain circumstances, conditioning, information or lack thereof, each of us―me included―is capable of contraction, of harming, hating, picking up arms and thinking short-term. And each of us is also capable of expansion, of caring, empathizing, nurturing and loving.

We have a choice in what parts of humanity we feed. When we beat on idealism and hope or when we other someone instead of engaging in dialogue to understand their worldview and realities, we feed the destructive side of humanity. With all that is stacked against us, isn’t it better for us to embrace hope, idealism and thoughtful engagement rather than kick those in the shins who had to muster unusual courage to stand on wobbly legs to lead and support the rest of us to a better future. So lets pause before our next mental eye-roll and instead provide the idealist with missing information, context and practical realities to fill their knowledge gaps. If they miss the mark, let’s not jump in and question their judgment to make ourselves look smarter or more informed. Let’s engage them in conversation and concern not combat.

“…hope…I understand above all as a state of mind, not a state of the world. Either we have hope within us or we don’t…Hope is not prognostication. It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart; it transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons…

Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed. The more unpromising the situation in which we demonstrate hope, the deeper that hope is. Hope is not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out. In short, I think that the deepest and most important form of hope, the only one that can keep us above water and urge us to good works, and the only true source of the breathtaking dimension of the human spirit and its efforts, is something we get, as it were, from ‘elsewhere.’ It is also this hope, above all, that gives us the strength to live and continually to try new things, even in conditions that seem as hopeless as ours do, here and now.” ― Vaclav Havel

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#19: Community under our noses, part 3

April 12, 2021

About 20 minutes after my encounter with Rigdzin, I found myself peering into a storefront named Greenwood Pencil Box. It’s a place that fuels courage and creative expression in youth through two complementary organizations that share this space: The Beaureu of Fearless Ideas or BFI, and Sanctuary Art Center. I value these ideas and have an imaginative poster from BFI that I glance at when I need a dose of moxie.

So when I saw this space in the process of being reimagined, I couldn’t resist and literally had my nose to the window when Chris and Troy (from the above mentioned organizations respectively) opened the door after-hours to invite me in. We chatted briefly about their organizations and the impact they want to have in the community and, once again, I was touched by the kindness, integrity and care of my fellow humans. I felt thankful that such people existed in the world.

The more I’ve reflected since, the more I realize that these people exist everywhere. Not just in special corners of the globe where conditions for human flourishing are just right. They are peppered everywhere. Being a piece of the everyday divine. Bolstering others in as many ways as there are humans. I didn’t jump through hoops to find them; I just walked down my main street and stepped into their world, ready to engage and there they were.

I also realized that they are not peppered everywhere―we are peppered everywhere. You, me, everyone. We can step into the world, ready to engage.

“The simple act of showing up and connecting with another’s humanity can help a person rekindle hope in ways they might not otherwise have dreamed of doing.” ― Jacqueline Novogratz

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#18: Community under our noses, part 2

April 9, 2021

I wanted a break. While much needed to be done, I felt tired from the mental lift of work. It was a sunny afternoon so I allowed myself a rare reprieve and left my desk a bit early to walk our neighborhood’s main street.

Because of my timing some daytime stores were still open, including one that sells Tibetan items. I had bought a humble-looking  but unbelievably resonant singing bowl at this spot years ago. None of the other ornate looking bowls I’ve encountered since come close to its vibrancy. This relationship with my bowl pulled me into Pema Kharpo where I heard the owner, Rigdzin, speaking with another visitor. Rigdzin sounded humble, vibrant, lighthearted and wise and I got pulled into the conversation towards the end of this dialogue. We exchanged our geographical past and I realized that he had lived all over India including New Delhi, my hometown, for ten years. I switched to Hindi for the rest of our conversation to feel the warmth of the first syllables I ever heard. He gave me a few items, prayed over me like I was family and sent me away with so much love and care that I felt an invisible thread bonding us. So here I am, unexpectedly absorbing practical wisdom from a man who appeared to be an everyday incarnation of the divine.

7,000 miles and 0.7 miles away from home and still right at home. Held, hugged and bolstered.

“The greatest gift we can give to others is our true presence” ― Thich Nhat Hanh

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