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Observations on Human Connection & Contribution

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#106: In Service (India Diaries)

A friend’s dad is visiting Seattle from India and asked me if I was “in service”. By this he meant if I had a job. This is the vernacular of my parents’ youth. When I was growing up, people were either in service (i.e. worked for someone else) or had their own business. The various professions rolled up to these two broad classifications. I didn’t really ruminate on this as a child but I do remember absorbing the term “in service” with a sense that there was subservience and potentially powerlessness associated with this choice. If someone had asked the little me to pick between these two binaries of “in service” vs. “in business”, I certainly would have picked the latter.

The question from my friend’s father made me realize that I don’t have the subtle negative association to being “in service” anymore. In fact, I silently answered in the affirmative. Because I am in service of a vision and it doesn’t matter to my self-esteem whether I have to start my company, work for another organization, or learn new skills to be in service. The line of work then becomes a purely practical matter and not the main thing. 

I don’t often encounter this phrase when I go back to India now; we seem to use a more globally enmeshed way of speaking in our cities. Although I still hear a version, both in India and the States, when we refer to people serving in the armed forces or government service (so and so is in public service, or is a servicewoman). These are professions where we still acknowledge the potential for impact on other lives.

Nonetheless, there is potential for impact embedded in every single profession. How can there not be? Our work is what we do daily for decades. But potential just means possibility, and not certainty, until it’s catalyzed by a personal and resonant aspiration for impact. When that happens, we are service.

“We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.” ― Winston Churchill, British statesman and Prime Minister

#105: Lucky, and we don’t even know it (India Diaries)

I was at SXSW* a few years ago and a corporate partner gave my team electric scooters to navigate the spread out events. Everyone hopped on and happily explored together, except me. The team bonding I had imagined never happened for me; while people rode, chatted, bonded and made plans, I walked and explored alone. No one I asked me why I didn’t join, and I didn’t feel comfortable saying that I didn’t know how to ride a bike.

It’s not just biking, I didn’t grow up running, swimming, rollerblading, playing any sports or musical instruments, with computers, or with access to endless books as one might find in a public library. The list goes on and it’s not meant to be a pity party. I’m simply pointing out that there are everyday things that we take for granted, and assume that everyone has them. If we note the disparity, we often attribute it to financial lack. Even if my family could afford bikes, running shoes and rollerblades (which we couldn’t), our city wasn’t safe for little girls running or biking around. Only the wealthy had access to swimming pools and computers, and there is still no concept of free public libraries in India. So the reasons for lack of access weren’t only financial, they were also social and structural.

The structures we grow up with massively influence our well-being throughout our life. Public infrastructure like parks, clean and uninterrupted water supply, public libraries, safe streets and friendly neighborhoods, and even clean air. And the valuable private infrastructure of our families: the financial resources for a well-rounded upbringing, the support of extended family or the guidance from parents’ professional networks.

My visit to India reminded me of my social and structural luck: progressive and loving parents who valued education; growing up in a close knit extended family with cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents, which formed deep bonds of enduring love and care. My maternal aunt and uncle felt like a second set of parents and my cousins became siblings and mentors. Despite the early loss of my father and all the ensuing hardship, the unconditional love by not just one but many became foundational to my life. 

You may have grown up playing sports or musical instruments, or as part of a debate team. You may have been able to hone skills in a way all your peers did. You may have matured in the environment of a stable home and a good university, gaining access to internships and even more skills and confidence. Until one day, you found yourself next to a teammate who seemed capable and yet somehow unexplainably different.

The unique social, structural and cultural combo of our upbringing was likely mirrored by a big chunk of our peer group. They experienced what we experienced and our overlapping spaces became our ecological niches. It was easy to imagine that every niche was like ours. But everyone gets these inflexion points, where worlds meet and we get a view into the lives of others with markedly different histories. A vantage point that can help us see our ecological niche differently and hopefully value the things we take for granted.

Our niches and their associated luck can easily become invisible. It happens to me too. The longer I live in one niche, the more I forget how people live in other niches. I also forget all the ways in which I am uniquely blessed. While I was in India recently, not once did I feel alone, unloved, or that “it was all on me”.

I read somewhere that “if our ecological niche doesn’t change, we don’t change”. Most of us may not get the chance to change our ecological niche but a great way to understand our share of luck is to befriend people from other niches. Or step outside ours for a bit.

“It is every man’s obligation to put back into the world at least the equivalent of what he takes out of it.”― Albert Einstein, Physicist

*South by Southwest, abbreviated as SXSW, is an annual conference with parallel events for film, interactive media, and music. It take place in mid-March in Austin, Texas, United States. 

#104: Touch (India Diaries)

My primary sources of touch when I’m in the States are my husband and cat. I instinctively hug people but there aren’t as many opportunities to hug during workdays. When I see my friends, the main moments of touch are hellos and goodbyes. If someone I know is having a hard time, then I may touch their upper back as a mark of support and, if we are close, linger my hand there so they feel connected and safe. I do this because in my darkest moments, simple and genuine touch helps me metabolize difficult emotion like nothing else.

When I was in India, I touched humans a lot more. There were more loved ones to touch, more ways in which I could touch them, and it was ok to stay in physical contact a bit longer. I touched my mom, brother, sister-in-law, cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends. I could hug and kiss them freely, touch their face with love, massage their scalp, put lotion on my mom’s feet, hold my aunt’s hand as long as we both wanted, and sleep with my mom in the same bed. I felt hydrated and nourished by so much loving touch. 

Touch is our very first sense to develop in utero, with development starting at around 8-weeks, before the senses of smell, taste, sight and hearing. Skin is our largest organ, at 22 square feet for an average adult. We can see, hear and smell from afar but taste and touch are the two senses that invite closeness. And how we touch, like other expressions of care, is personal but also very cultural. For instance, it’s a common sight in India to see men from a specific social strata walking down the street holding hands or with an arm wrapped around another’s shoulder. I didn’t see these behaviors in the more educated or affluent Indian men. It’s also a common sight to see groups of children in their uniforms after school holding hands, doing shenanigans, laughing and joking freely on their way home.

I have not experienced this level of physical closeness in the west. Despite the many well-researched and documented benefits of touch, our general lack of touch makes me wonder if we have oversexualized the act of touching another human? What would happen if we had the freedom to express love in platonic relationships through consensual physical touch? How would it change lives?*

“We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something.”― Mother Teresa, Albanian-Indian Catholic nun

*Touch has been shown to have physiological, psychological and social benefits. Supportive touch releases feel good hormones and chemicals in the brain (oxytocin, endorphins, dopamine and serotonin), lowers the stress hormone (cortisol), and increases the production of white blood cells in the body. These biological reactions combined help lower the heart rate and blood pressure, lessen depression and anxiety, boost the immune system and even relieve pain.  

#103: To be proximal and yet love (India Diaries)

I started getting hives out of the blue a few years ago. It wasn’t clear what I was reacting to so the doctor recommended a food allergy test. The cause ended up being something else but the food test stayed with me. It’s not a yes/no result and there are gradients of reactions one can have―from itching, nasal congestion, and hives to anaphylaxis, which is the most severe reaction and is life threatening. I’m vegetarian and it was interesting that I had zero reactivity to meats and seafood, even the most inflammatory ones like shellfish. I was sensitive to things like beans (which is common) and basil (felt random and unexpected).

As I dug into the results, I realized that I was reacting mainly to foods I ate the most. Some foods might have been unsuited to my digestive system anyway but the frequency of consumption led to outsized reactions. Did I need a small pause? This is actually the wisdom behind detoxification diets. We limit exposure to inflammatory foods and then start adding them back bit by bit to see how the body does. A severe reaction means permanent avoidance, a minor discomfort means the need to be mindful while eating.

I wonder if this logic holds for the people in our life. Just like I wasn’t allergic to what I didn’t eat, I don’t have reactions to those I don’t engage with. I react only when there is interaction and, more importantly, relationship. The people I live with or interact with the most are likely the ones that trigger me the most, and I have an outsized ability to irritate them back. Our body carries the imprint of past interactions and reactions. If we’ve reacted in the past, we’re more likely to react again.

Our psyche stays on guard just the way our white blood cells do. Whether we realize it or not, our minds automatically filter current experiences as they are unfolding using the lens of our past, predict what will happen and behave accordingly. And like our overactive immune systems that might see basil as a threat, our mental predictions aren’t always accurate. We’re often unable to see what’s actually going on in our closest relationships and frequent interactions.

Could a relational detox help? Where we pay attention to who triggers us, whom we trigger, and then most importantly, cultivate the skill to see below our mutual masks of irritation to the underlying vulnerability in ourselves and others. Where we actively work on not getting triggered so kind and clear communication can flow.

Those we share the most time, space and life with are the ones we exchange our deepest imperfections with. A loving relationship with them needs a non-judgmental open heart and compassionate will. To be proximal and yet love is an unending practice.

“Perhaps the biggest tragedy of our lives is that freedom is possible, yet we can pass our years trapped in the same old patterns…

We may want to love other people without holding back, to feel authentic, to breathe in the beauty around us, to dance and sing. Yet each day we listen to inner voices that keep our life small.”
― Tara Brach: psychologist, author and Buddhist meditation teacher

#102: Daily caregiving (India Diaries)

Continuing my India observations…

Another contrast between my life in the States and India is the daily collection of people that come in and out of my mother’s home. The cleaning lady, the cooking lady, the elderly vegetable hawker who calls her cellphone everyday like clockwork to pester her to buy something from him, even if a few potatoes. And his son, who runs up the five flights of steps to deliver them, who once requested I charge his phone for a few hours. This seeming entourage of help is common in India and not just a luxury for the wealthy. Our ad hoc infrastructure has developed over time in such a way that contemporary professional life is powered by this collective of daily care givers. People couldn’t work the long hours with the insane commute times if they didn’t have someone helping with cooking and cleaning. Most Indians I know also live in multigenerational families with more people, so there is more daily cooking and cleaning to do compared to the States.

I can slice this infrastructural and socio-economic dynamic in many ways but my point here is this: An offshoot of many different people coming in and out of one’s home is the human connection and engagement it creates for anyone who is at home, including the elderly.

In India, caregiving isn’t just reserved for when people face difficulties of old age. When the same people come into our homes daily over the years, bit by bit, we get to know about them and their families. We share food, tea, and old winter blankets. The stuff we’ve outgrown or don’t have room for doesn’t go to unseen people; the people who care for us get first dibs and we can see the impact of our generosity, which trains us to be more generous. There’s an oiling of the machinery with conversation, food, laughter, tears and some reprimand. People who rarely leave home end up staying mentally and physically engaged, even when alone.

The comparatively smaller daily care footprint of nuclear families in the west, supported by an array of gadgets, makes life practically and emotionally simpler. And it has the potential to distance us from interactions and slowly train us out of caring for more types of people; that is, the everyday interactions that help us become more humane.

“Humans interacting with humans in a human way”
― My friend Avishkar’s pithy summary of psychological safety, a concept developed by Prof. Amy Edmondson.