Post-Evangelical Easter Reflection

These are some of my reflections, as a post-Evangelical-possibly-heretical-possibly-not-Christian, about Easter. I wrote this in my journal in the sunshine today and, wanting it to have a home, I (pardon the pun) resurrected this blog. 

Reading time: 8 minutes

My Evangelically-Shaped Easter

I used to view Easter as a day (/weekend / week) to observe the historical moment in time where my inevitable, innumerable sins were paid for by a perfect God-man.  This gift, of God paying the price of my sins, was graciously offered to me and to everyone else in the entire world, past and present. (Or was it just present and future? I forget). Given that I’d already accepted God's gift of Eternal life--I did this as a young child, like most of the children in my church community--I knew I was saved from eternal damnation (aka hell. The eternal burn.)  

Because this was my worldview, Easter was, for the earliest years of my life,  both a joyous occasion to rejoice in my promised salvation but also a pressing reminder that many of my (unchurched) friends were still on the path to end up in hell when they died. (Because, you know…they hadn’t accepted the gift that Jesus offered them.)

I did what any loving evangelical convinced by this truth would do: I prayed fervently for God to work in their hearts so that they, too, might come to know the joy of eternal life in Christ. I prayed that they might one day be able to join me and the rest of the church congregation when we proclaimed “He is risen indeed!"

(NB: Some of you, reading my claim of wanting other friends to “know the joy” along my parallel statements about burning in hellfire might think I’m being facetious. But I promise: I am not. I really did feel such a deep joy on account of my Christian faith, and I longed for others I loved to feel it too. I have a lot of compassion for the version of myself who saw the world in this way; I know I felt a lot of love for others—in the way that I knew how to. So if you’re feeling like rolling your eyes or shaking your fists at any Christians you know who currently conceptualize life in these ways, I invite you to try to first remember that they are seeing the world in a different way than you are; and probably their hearts are filled to the brim with love for you—in the way that they know how. Anyway, I digress.)

 

So that was Easter for me. For about 20 years or so. A mix of joy and fear. Both feelings were immense. 

(Now, it’s worth noting that not all Christians interpret Easter in the way that I did. Easter was not (/is not) a reminder about salvation vs. damnation for the many Christians who do not believe in a literal hell from which our sinful selves need to be saved via a payment of a perfect being. I don’t know quite enough about other Christian modes of interpreting Easter to summarize them here, but I know they are plentiful and I don’t want to paint them all with the same brush. There are huge variations within the religion we call Christianity.

But this sin-ridden, hell-bound humans + loving, debt-paying Saviour was the Christianity that I grew up in and, thus, this was Easter for me. It was a striking reminder about eternity, and a time to rejoice that you’ve been saved while also fret for those who aren’t.)

Given that this particular mode of interpreting Easter was so dominant in my psyche for so many years, I am not altogether surprised that I eventually veered away from that view. I do, however, personally find it VERY strange and unexpected that, this year, I find myself acutely (re)drawn to celebrate Easter. But here I am. 

Post-Evangelical Explorations of Religion/Spirituality 

For those of you who do not know, I have spent the last decade or so exploring religious and spiritual views that extend far beyond the lens that the church I grew up in taught me to see the world through. In these last ~10 years, I have identified as an atheist, an agnostic, an ignostic, a Jew, a Buddhist, a Christian, a bhakt, “Spiritual But Not Religious”, “Religious But Not Spiritual”, and “Other” ….depending on who was asking me the question and how much time I had for my answer. 

A lot of my discomfort with identifying (solely) as a Christian now is due to the fact that the type of Christianity that I once (strongly and happily!) identified with is now very far from being a comfortable fit for me.  If I were to try to wear my earlier Christianity like a sweater, it would feel itchy, scratchy. It barely fits over my head. And yet... 

I love so many of the teachings of Christ. Indeed, I cannot help but think that if he looked me in the eyes and said “follow me” then I would pack my bag (—wait, I forget: am I allowed to take the time to pack a bag? It’s been awhile since I’ve read that biblical passage in Matthew…) and run after him. I would want to follow him, and be in his presence.  Sit at his feet; absorb his teachings. (At least for a little bit? Wouldn’t you? Who would not want to be in the presence of such a teacher!?!?!) So, given that I long to follow Christ... am I a Christian? Who gets to decide if I “count” as one? Does the fact that the Christianity I was born-and-raised with is no longer the Christianity I wish to embrace mean that I must forfeit the identity once and for all? 

I honestly do not know. *shrugs*

(One of the reasons I often, self-protectively, remind people that I am not a theologian (I am, rather, a cultural anthropologist who studies religion) is that a theologian would probably be required to have an answer for that question of whether or not I "count" as a Christian. I quite like that I am allowed to shrug my anthropological shoulders at it. A theologian would know a lot more about the history of Christian doctrinal norms over the years, and they would be able to say “yes or no” to my questions about whether believing X, Y, or Z about Jesus is enough to let me pass as a Christian.  

I'm *not* a theologian, but I vaguely remember reading something by the Christian theologian Roger Haight in the delightful book Jesus and Buddha: Friends in Conversation where he asserted that there are a few “bottom line” doctrinal points that Christians have to believe in in order to be a Christian. One of these doctrines was about belief in resurrection. If that's correct, then even if I’m able to INTERPRET resurrection as having a different purpose than paying my sin-debt, I suppose I do struggle to believe that someone was medically dead for three days and then returned to life. So maybe I’m eternally-outcast on the Christian identity bit, I’m not sure. Go ask a theologian!)

Returning to Easter

But here’s the thought that has kept circling around in my mind leading up to, and during, this Easter weekend: I care about Easter. After a multi-year hiatus from caring at all about it--or really any religious holy day--it is beginning to feel meaningful for me once again. So, I've wondered: why am I leaning back towards it? What’s the substance of my inklings? (Some Christians might say that God is calling me back to him. I suppose that's a possibility.) But, at this point in time, I'm more interested in what is going on in my heart/mind/soul/body. What rises up in me? If Easter is giving me an emotional response, what are these emotions? (FYI, I'm trying to get better at knowing and naming my emotions. It's something that Marc Brackett speaks very wisely about.) There is no tangible sense of joy, nor fear, that I have been able to locate and yet there is a deep sense of meaning, respect, and awe. 

I’ve been trying to narrow in on what I find meaningful about Easter. Is it akin to nostalgia? Or, levelling-up, is it like the Portuguese saudade , e.g. the deep emotionally-entrenched longing for the familiar? Or is it that I want to be able to punctuate my annual calendar with spiritually-meaningful moments, and the global take-over of Christianity has made it quite convenient to align myself with Christian holidays? After all, I’m not sure about you, but my Good Friday day-off-work was, indeed, quite good!

It might be some of those things. 

But I think it is also the story of Easter itself that I find meaningful and compelling: it’s a story about a loving, wise teacher who inspired many and challenged more. Who chose non-violence when faced with violence. Who suffered, brutally, in
the midst of it all—who felt abandonment/betrayal from God himself [...herself.../Itself..?]—and who still persevered. And who, the story goes, managed to overturn the very notion of death itself through resurrection. It's a story about the act of death itself being somehow able to defeat death...in other words, it's a story about how all things eventually turn back to life. 

Photo by Nika Kuchuk

Resurrection is Everywhere

This sense---that all things eventually turn back to life---feels overwhelmingly true the more I experience and reflect on life. As the snow melts around me and the energies of springtime begin to flow—in the budding leaves, in the soaring and singing birds, in the rippling water…and, I hasten to admit, in the smelly dog-shit and bits of trash that are being more and more revealed in my neighbour’s backyard—I cannot help but feel that a story about the way that everything leads back again to life, is a story worth celebrating. Resurrection tales are not unique to Christianity and Jesus, but the details of the Jesus/Christian story are a uniquely-formed invitation to reflect on the ways that death and life intertwine and, indeed, get mixed up with each other. I for one find the story quite awe-inspiring. 

I’m a little fuzzy over whether it’s rude or even inappropriate for me to summarize the Easter story in this way without paying attention to either historicity or theological accuracy. But I love the story. It feels hopeful—if a little heretical. 

Lost and Found

A significant part of my time in India this year has been focused on the beautiful but chaotic process of ever-learning more about myself and the world around me. I’ve been prompted, pushed, pulled, and sometimes dragged into experiences, events, and conversations which make me question what I value most in life and whether I am acting in a way that corresponds with my values. 

What is that I hold onto? What is it that I think is important? Do I spend my time in a way that shows that? In what way do I want to engage with the world? (Am I doing that?) How do my actions and beliefs impact other beings around me? Am I happy? Do I feel loved by others? Am I loving others? Am I loving myself?  

I feel that these are important questions—and I ask them, in one way or another, almost every day. As such, time and time again, I find myself in need of the reminder that all of this is a process. For better or for worse, we are people who are caught in change and motion rather than grounded in constancy. 

(This is felt rather poignantly when travelling to new cities almost every week, but there are other ways of noting this in our lives even when we seem to stay still…we are always changing.) I’m trying to become more comfortable with uncertainty, and also with the seeming-dichotomy of knowing something (“holding onto something”) and being open to new ways-of-knowing/being.

My desire to try out new things and be okay with change, uncertainty, and imperfection has manifested in a rather practical way for me this year, where I have dedicated some time to a new project: shooting and editing videos which tell stories which I believe to be important and interesting. You can stay tuned for the release of some of those in the near future...

Sometimes we lose ourselves to find ourselves; and sometimes those two actions seem to be indistinguishable from each other.

I’m pretty sure that’s why I wrote this song, Lost and Found. (I picked up a guitar the other day and the melody and the lyrics came out within about 4 minutes.) I suppose these thoughts have been percolating for some time now… You can listen to it on my soundcloud here or just read the lyrics below.

~

I found myself at the sea.
I found myself by the water.
I found myself as I lost all the thoughts
that I thought I had to hold onto.

I lost myself at the sea.
I lost myself by the ocean.
I lost myself as I found all the thoughts
that I thought I’d learned to let go of.

I’m still holding, I’m still losing, I’m still finding.
And searching and praying and cursing and letting go. 

A Cultural and Spiritual Transformation

---

I am still grappling with a succinct "reasons why humans hate/discriminate against/kill each other," but it is in this same vein that I am motivated to study religion/theology and its dynamic intersection with culture. We indeed need a cultural and spiritual transformation.

And, if you even glimpse at the news sporadically, you are more than aware of how much room for change there is in our many religious, political, educational, and cultural spheres. There is so much more room to love more widely and more deeply. I think all hands are needed in this--no matter your career/hobbies/skills/passions etc.--because each of us have our own ever-widening circles of influence where we can be more loving and encourage others to do the same.

And to those of us who are able to devote ourselves 'full time' to questions of religion and culture (I would place many students and scholars of religion more broadly in this category, as well as those in leadership positions of spiritual communities), well...... I hope we can find creative ways to use our insights and knowledge to evoke positive change.

p.s. please feel free to kick me in the pants whenever I (again) begin to fret more about trying to walk delicately on egg shells in some imagined-path to a tenure track job than I do about following my passion.

Unafraid of Contradictions

This quotation reminds me to not accept or construct false binaries; not everything in this world is either black or white. It also reminds me not to not jump to conclusions--especially when it's about the character of another person--and not to hate that which I've barely taken the time to know. It reminds me that these beliefs which say 'I am right and you are wrong,' or the beliefs which discourage real dialogue (even when under the guise of conversation) are painful not only in the sense that they destroy positive relationships that might have otherwise flourished, but they also imprison us. We become chained to our dogmas, to our safe interpretations of our world. It is sometimes the same walls which surround us and makes us feel protected that close out the world around us. What a pity.

"I am not an idealist, nor a cynic, but merely unafraid of contradictions. I have seen men face each other when both were right, yet each was determined to kill the other, which was wrong. What each man saw was an image of the other, made by someone else. That is what we are prisoners of."
- Donald Hogan (1972)


I wonder what we all see when we look at the people in our lives. When we see them in a positive/negative light..what is it that has encouraged/allowed us to paint them in that way?


Below are some thoughts/questions I have, which I originally wrote out for a different purpose, but they seem applicable to this conversation.


1) What convictions do you hold? Especially, which convictions do you hold to when it comes to the nature of God, reality, truth, love, etc.? Because we all hold to something. Throughout different periods of my life I have considered myself to be a Christian, an atheist, and a bewildered agnostic (to name a few!), and in each of these identities I held strong convictions. What are the convictions that you hold to?

2) How do these convictions affect those whom you love? (Or, since many religious scriptures call us to be loving to strangers and even enemies, let us go one step farther: how do your convictions affect others in your community more broadly speaking?) Is there any degree or form of hurt that results?
And, importantly, is their hurt worth more or less than you maintaining your conviction? This can sometimes be an extremely difficult question; and, like all difficult questions, I do not think there is always an easy answer.


3) In what light do your convictions paint those who think or act differently than you? Try to think of some specific people—perhaps you could choose a spectrum of “different worldviews.” How do you view these people? Are they ‘lost,’ ‘blind,’ ‘deluded,’ ‘deceived,’ ‘ignorant,’ ‘hell-bound,’ ‘naïve,’ ‘plain stupid?’ How does your worldview paint you? Are you among the spiritually elect, the elite, or the enlightened? Has God ‘chosen you?’ and what might this say in terms of the love of God.


4) What would others think of your idea of them? (And how do you think they perceive you?)

Why 2016 Wasn't The #WorstYearEver

2016 was difficult but it was also good. Some shitty, horrible, heart-breaking things happened but it was not the infamous "#worstyearever." 

I've learned a lot about myself as an individual (and a small amount about executing self-care), a lot about what it means to exist relationally/ with intentionality, and a lot about what I value in myself and others, who I want to surround myself with, and who I want to strive to become.

I think our broader communities and societies have learned a lot about what it means to fight for justice, to give voice to the oppressed and to show our support, to protect what is sacred, to stand up against what we believe to be wrong, to amplify love in the midst of hate, to choose to live vulnerably and to admit our brokenness to each other even when it’s tempting to appear like we’re self-sufficient and totally fine, to act selflessly and care for those who are in need, to persevere when things look rough, and to find ways to make positive changes even when they are small and may seem insignificant. This year had bad things (all years do) but it also had loads of good come from it. And I think history has shown that times of significant difficulty open us up to being more loving than we were before; we are often not challenged to step up when we are in our comfort zone. A ‘the stars shine best in the darkness’ sort of thing. 

So, yes, I am welcoming 2017 with open arms: the liminal space offered by the change of calendar years provides us with a sort of clean slate, and with new energy. We can use this to become better versions of ourselves and to work together to create better (move loving, more inclusive, less selfish) communities. But I’m not running away from 2016 as if I want nothing to do with it, or as if I want to pretend it didn’t leave a mark on me. It did. It has shaped me. It was not always sunshine and rainbows, and yet I have reason to smile. (Wouldn't you say the same?)

Least I seem overly-optimistic, let me reveal my stoic/realist-tendencies via this photo.

Also: not totally related, but I am really appreciating this excerpt from Seneca's letters. 

Let's not fear what we don't need to.

"There are more things, Lucilius, likely to frighten us than there are to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality. [...] What I advise you to do is, not to be unhappy before the crisis comes; since it may be that the dangers before which you paled as if they were threatening you, will never come upon you; they certainly have not yet come. Accordingly, some things torment us more than they ought; some torment us before they ought; and some torment us when they ought not to torment us at all. We are in the habit of exaggerating, or imagining, or anticipating, sorrow.

[...] Do me the favour, when men surround you and try to talk you into believing that you are unhappy, to consider not what you hear but what you yourself feel, and to take counsel with your feelings and question yourself independently, because you know your own affairs better than anyone else does.

[...] It is likely that some troubles will befall us; but it is not a present fact. How often has the unexpected happened! How often has the expected never come to pass!

[...]The mind at times fashions for itself false shapes of evil when there are no signs that point to any evil; it twists into the worst construction some word of doubtful meaning; or it fancies some personal grudge to be more serious than it really is[...]. But life is not worth living, and there is no limit to our sorrows, if we indulge our fears to the greatest possible extent[...]There is nothing so certain among these objects of fear that it is not more certain still that things we dread sink into nothing[...]."

"Peace on Earth" etc. etc.

Merry Christmas! I am thrilled and grateful to be with my siblings and parents for Christmas, as well as with a number of friends-who-feel-like-family in the days surrounding the holiday. I'm enjoying it quite a bit :)! 

About 25 years later, my siblings and I still indulge in
silly laughter around my parents' Christmas tree.

But I also know that holidays, more than the average day, can place a megaphone to the pain in our lives. Maybe it's the first Christmas without a particular loved one. Maybe you aren't with family or friends or other loved ones. Maybe gift buying has made you broke. Maybe you feel lonely, or wistful, or apprehensive, or sad, or empty, or confused about what is really important.

I find myself in some of these spaces.

I think these pains are legitimate and so are the questions evoked by them. This is my advice--to all of us who have moments (or extended moments) of hardship in the holidays: try to glean what good stuff you can from this opportunity for such reflection. Try to use it as a time to explore yourself deeper and know yourself better. Try to look at the most frightened, puffy-eyed part of you and tell yourself 'you are loved, and you are going to be okay.' Try to walk forward--not running away without ever looking back, but walking steadily with your eyes fixed on where you want to be, yet comfortable to glance around and look your past square in the eye. It's an important part of you, and whatever you've walked through is what allowed you to get here. Try to continually reorient yourself so that you are simultaneously wrapped up in love, supported by love, and are walking toward love. Try to let your heart and hands be loosed of any unnecessary things you've been carrying; it's easier to walk forward without them. Try to ask someone else for a hug, or a listening ear, or a walk, or a sleigh ride if/when you need it. It's okay to need it.

my sister took this in Cypress

There's a beautiful Christian tradition in some churches to physically "pass" the peace of Christ from one person to the next. I've partaken in this whilst in a Syrian Orthodox Church in India: one person starts with the intangible "peace" held symbolically in his hands and, as he passes it to 2+ people, it gradually makes its way through the congregation. It's a beautiful way of enacting the symbol of spreading peace on earth. And this--the celebration of a birth of a baby who people believed would bring peace on earth--is a worthwhile Christmas reminder. It may be about giving/receiving gifts, it may be about spending time with family+friends (both of these can be done in healthy or unhealthy ways, I think), but it's also about peace. And that encapsulates a whole lot of things. I hope you partake in peace this Christmas

Love vs. Loss: Having the [global] world at our fingertips while also holding dearly onto 'home.'

You’ve probably heard that cliché saying that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. I’ve contemplated this saying over the past few months for a number of different reasons, and I think I do believe that it speaks truthfully and wisely. And I think it can apply to the more general sort of love associated with good friends and a community—certainly it feels that way for me. I’m “home” in Ottawa right now visiting with friends and family, but between Canada, India, and the UK, I feel like I am torn between a few different “homes” lately. (Certainly, the USA border guard who clarified with me “so you’re a student in the UK…but you’re living in India…and you came here for a conference…but you’re going now to Canada?” seemed just as flustered/confused by my high rate of international travels.)

A screenshot of the major cities I've traveled to since August

I have seen a LOT of the world in the past 5 years and I’m really glad I’ve been able to live and travel in a lot of different cities and countries.

(I tried making a map that pointed to all the places I've traveled to but frankly it got a bit overwhelming..!)

But I must admit: the shittiest thing about having done part of my undergrad in New Brunswick, going to India regularly enough to develop a solid community of friends there, and now studying in the UK (at a uni that attracts people from all over the world at that) is that now there's all these people I love who are absolutely not in the same city ../country../timezone../continent. So we're not talking a 3 hour drive to visit someone, but like, multiple hours in an airplane across various oceans. And even though I've been fortunate (?careless?) enough to spend the time and money to fly over said bodies of water on a somewhat regular basis, I'm still never able to be with all my loved ones at once. 

You see, I used to live in this tiny little house with lovely little people and we did little things like grow tomatoes and wash dishes and laugh loudly and rescue spiders and and write poetry on the communal chalk board and play 'keep it up' at the neighbourhood swimming pool and record music in our living room. 'Twas a good simple little life. Now I live oceans away from all of them. 

This is the thing that no one warns you about when they encourage you to be adventurous, to spread your wings and see the world. People warned me about missing home (check), about the difficulties of meeting new people and feeling connected (check), about culture shock (check), about traveler’s sickness (check check), and about various other things typically associated with travelling/moving abroad…and I think I’ve dealt with all of these things pretty well, all things considered… but few people warned me of the danger of establishing relational ties across a number of different cities/continents. 

I call this photo: "The danger of establishing relational ties" ft. my Cambridge friend Rebekah. (Now Rebekah and I are far away and we very well might never see each other again. WHAT!?!? Horrible.)

Don’t get me wrong—I couldn’t have it any other way. That is to say, there’s no way that I could be happy living in a city or country where I don’t make an effort at establishing roots and forming/joining a community of loving people. I would shrivel up and die without such things. But sometimes I wonder how wise it is to have placed roots in so many different places. Because now, wherever I am, there’s a significant portion of my loved ones who will always be miles and miles and oceans away from me. And to be honest that’s not always the best feeling.

Sunset streets in Dubrovnik, Croatia

I consider it a wonderful privilege and blessing to have been able to not only visit a number of cities but to actually feel connected and become a part of a community there. In many ways, there is something incredibly amazing and beautiful about this. But there’s something to be said for simplicity. This is the same simplicity that many people of my generation quickly brush off because “it’s not adventurous enough,” or the same simplicity that some people of my parent’s and grandparent’s generation encourage me (with nothing but the best of intentions) to rise above / go beyond. This is the simplicity of staying put, and choosing the wild and crazy adventure of deeply loving the people and places who are already in your midst. (And, certainly, this need not be dull or boring in the slightest!)

This is my Babcia (grandmother). Her family moved from Poland to Canada when she was a young child and she grew up in Toronto and some surrounding areas. At risk of romanticising my grandparents' era, I sometimes wonder if my life would be simpler if I still sewed my own clothes and grew my own food and walked down the street to say hi to my family and friends who lived there.

But, despite all these reflections, I readily admit there is still something within me that yearns for radical adventure, and that wishes to cover large distances in an airplane so to see something or someone I’ve never seen before. I like being thrown into new and unfamiliar situations. I enjoy going periods where I don’t hear a word of English, and where I have to navigate through social customs and cultural cues. I enjoy the beauty and challenge of being out of my comfort zone, and I find that these are the sorts of experiences which most stretch and push me into becoming a more thoughtful, accepting, and loving person. I’m glad for these experiences.

Back in Gujarat, 2014 (?) when I was doing research on Jain panjrapols. In this photo, a Jain monk was blessing animals that had been rescued from a slaughter house.

This might be where the saying “all things in moderation” comes into play. I’m not sure. I think I’m still struggling to find my own balance in this regard. What are your thoughts? Do you crave adventure? Do you think adventure can be had within a familiar (maybe even mundane) environment? Is adventure more important than your existing communities/relationships? As always, would love to hear your thoughts below or by PM.

Processing Sufferings and Creating Joy, Peace, and Love

Recently I left my "jungle ashram" and went with a lady who used to be affiliated with the ashram as its manager.

Evening service at the ashram

She invited me to go to Faridpur with her and to join her in some outreach project which happened in nearby villages., and I thought doing so would offer an interesting perspective. So we went.

For the most part, we were going to villages and talking about sanitary pads and menstruation and feminine hygiene.

A group of about 40 women (aged 17-35) gathered to learn about sanitary pads

I also sat in on some sewing classes for village girls, learned some stuff about village agricultural farming, and I saw the local hospital and how things are done there. It was an enlightening experience all around. I'm so very glad I went :).

Piles of black peppercorn being left out to dry before selling

Two village women cutting rice crops

But also at the hospital I saw a woman who died shortly after she left our premises. And because I'm this delicate mix of being simultaneously overly-sensitive and strangely-stoic, I now have all these feelings that I've been shoving down my throat and keeping them unprocessed.

I suppose I thought writing this out might help me process them; thanks for reading my processings.

She was a young girl, newly married, probably in her early twenties. She arrived at our hospital being carried in like a sack of potatoes because she was totally immobile; her pulse was 150 beats per minute, which is outrageously high. We gradually learned she had consumed poison, though her husband (the one carrying her) was not very helpful in giving such information upfront. She was mostly unresponsive; the poison having already gotten to her brain.

As time went on, and as I listened to the doctors and staff discuss, it became clear to me that there was a good chance her mother in law had poisoned her. Either that or she had drank the poison herself because she no longer wanted to live this life. Locals said it was probably kerosene that she consumed, or maybe some kind of pesticide. The doctors weren't sure.

Some of the girls from surrounding villages who came to take sewing classes
offered by the mission hospital's outreach programs.

Our tiny mission hospital didn't have the facilities for her so we had to refer her out, to a town hospital which had a poison specialist (because such things are so common here.) The husband loaded her onto a motorbike that our hospital had on hand, he sat behind her, and our driver sat at the front. The woman was plopped onto the bike, sandwiched between them, and her husband held her body to keep it upright as they drove off.

She died en route; we were notified of this later that evening.

In the days that followed (and even the days leading up to it, in a sort of eerily strange foreshadowing) I heard a number of stories about young women--especially newly married wives--who either killed themselves or who were killed by their husbands or mother in laws. The reasons for murder ranged: she wasn't pretty enough, she wasn't working hard enough, she didn't get pregnant fast enough, the dowry wasn't big enough...etc. The reasons for suicide were similiar: afterall, it is difficult to find value, beauty, or joy in life when these are the kinds of things being told to you about yourself.

I do not know how to process the reality of a world in which one individual decides that such reasons are enough to poison someone, or to douse them in kerosene and then burn them to death.

How can this world be the same one that I live in? How can my reality be so different than the realities of others? How can this be the world we live in?

I wonder if I could find any reason to live if that were my life. I'm not sure that I could. I'd like to think that I'd change my scenario--I'd leave my husband, or I'd leave my in-laws........but what if I had no where else to go? What if I had no other options? What if even my parents didn't want me to return, or perhaps never even wanted me to be born in the first place since I'm a village girl and would only be a financial burden to them? What if the thought of taking care of myself and prioritising my own needs/wants never even crossed my mind?

......For my own part (and I realise that my perspective is limited), I feel that the subconscious minds of many village girls are trained from a young age to never even contemplate such thoughts. Certainly not all..but it seems that many are.

I don't even know her name. I'm not sure our mission hospital even recorded it; I think we discharged her without a record that she even came--we hadn't bothered registering her as her husband carried her in because we rushed her to our unused hospital ward where she could lay down on a bed as the doctor monitored her. We still don't know if it was a murder or a suicide; but since she is so newly married the police will likely investigate it as if it were a murder.

And, in all my bewilderment and sadness/confusion, I find myself wondering if she ever regretted having consumed poison or if she ever wished she hadn't. I don't know if, in even those final moments of life, she felt convinced that it would be better to be dead than be alive. I don't know.

I don't know that I know how to provoke any positive change in this particular phenomenon. I wouldn't even know where to start. I feel so overwhelmed and helpless and hopeless sometimes. But what I know is this: we all need to strive to transform our world into one in which all individuals experience joy, peace, and love. And I think we can, we must, each do this--- at least on some micro-level! That is all I know.

Today, may you experience joy, peace, and love. 

And may you share it with others.

(As always, feel free to comment below or to PM me. I would really love to hear from you.)

Searching for God [and 3G signals]

Namaste all:

For those of you who have been spared my woeful tales of killing 9 foot python cobras, of taking cold bucket showers, of sweeping palm-sized spiders out of my bedroom, etc. … I’m living in an Indian jungle at the moment(residing at an ashram.)I’ve been here for just under one month now and this is the first time I’m getting internet access on a computer. Pardon any errors of formatting etc..

And in essence, being at this ashram is about being on a search.


There are many ways that it is a search.

Inarguably I am near-constantly searching for ways to make sense of what I experience here so that it can become palpable “data” that I use for the ever-looming task of writing my PhD dissertation. (But this blog is not, will not!!, be about that!) Other times I search for the right word to express myself in Hindi… and sometimes I search for my “torch” (flashlight, for all you non-Indians and non-Brits)so that I can navigate my way back to my room without being bothered by (note: bothering) any of the quasi-dangerous wildlife here.

And, I readily admit, frequently I search for a network reception signal for my mobile so that I can try to feel connected to the world outside of this ashram—and to the people outside of it whom I love and miss. (“I lift my phone up to the mountains, where does my signal come from” is my personal new adapted version of that one bible verse in Isaiah…)

Importantly, I also(I think) search for God—though I feel that the meaning of this statement changes for me on a near-daily basis (if not more often than that.)



There is a sign at this ashram that says that anyone (well, it actually says any “man” but I will give it the benefit of the doubt) who genuinely wants to find God is welcome here—whether he be of the Christian faith, of a different faith, or of no faith. Currently, all of the people who have come to the ashram for this thirty-day program identify with the Christian faith (though some are new converts, all with their own background stories and reasons for beginning to ‘follow Jesus,’ as is said here).

In spite of (some) language barriers and many cultural/worldview barriers, I am trying to find ways to connect meaningfully with the people who are here. Because what are we doing with our lives if not connecting meaningfully to the people who we eat and drink with, and whom we live beside? I am being challenged in a number of different ways in this regard—not the least because, though I certainly crave meaningful interaction, I can sometimes have a tendency to close myself off to people.

This tendency, among with other sort of ‘knee-jerk reactions’ that I have,  has been something I’ve been able to explore in quiet times of meditation, etc. I’m not going to go into further detail at this point in time, but it is a process that I am working through. And I think this sort of self-reflective processing is a good thing to do—whether that be through individual meditation or through another means.

I wonder what we as individuals and our societies more broadly would be like if we each took time to contemplate and reflect upon not only WHO we are or HOW we act, but WHY we are that way—and also whether we think that these traits are admirable. I have found that most of my social/work circles over the years of not placed nearly enough value on this practice. It’s something I hope to incorporate more and more into my life.  I’m currently pretty bad at “quieting/focusing my mind” to contemplate certain things without my mind wandering to other thoughts, but they say it is something that will improve with time…

As always, I welcome your thoughts in the comments below or by message. Many thanks to those of you who have PMedme over these last few weeks; I love hearing from you! 

Also, here's a photo of monkeys.

In the theme of both being in India and being on a search, I will finish this with a “bhajan” (devotional hymn) that I wrote during my first few days at this ashram. The English translation is at the bottom.

Mere aankhe kholo,
mera dil kholo.
To mai tujhko dekh sakhoo.
Meri aatma pyaasi hai.

Kya mai tera liye pyaasi hun?
Kahan jaao tujhse milne ke liye?
Meri aatma bahut pyaasi hai.

Duniya ka dhundt ki piche me, tere aatma hai.
Mai dhoondt rahi hun.
Tho pani do.

Jaldi se aa
ya dire se aa.
Subaha ko aa
ya sham ko aa.
Jaisa tu chahe.
Par meri aatma pyaasi hai.

Bhajo naam, bhajo naam, bhajo naam…
Mai tera naam bhaj rahi hun
aur usme kho jaa rahi hun.

Sab meri bhakti tere liye hai.
Mere aankhe tujhe dhoondti hai,
Mera dil bhi tujhe dhoondta hai.
Mera man aur meri aatma bhi tujhe dhoondte hain.

Meri paasaa.
Mai pyaasi hun.

Open my eyes,
open my heart.
So that I can see you.
My soul is thirsty.

Is it you I thirst for?
Where must I go to meet with you?
My soul is very thirsty.

Your face hides behind the mist
of this world.
And I am searching,
so give me water.

Come quickly
or come slowly.
Come in the morning
or in the evening:
Let it be whichever you wish
but my soul is thirsty.

Sing the name, sing the name, sing the name.
I am singing your name
and losing myself in it.

All of my devotion is toward you.
My eyes search for you.
My heart searches for you.
My mind and my soul also search for you.

Come near me.
I am thirsty.

Goals and Prioritising + and Living Meaningfully

What are your goals for this next 12 months? (Is that a question you ever ask yourself?)

It’s a question I ask myself a lot—in various forms/time-lines. In fact, I am willing to entertain the possibility that I just may be too Type-A/task-driven ;).   I make goals for what I want to do on that particular day (or in that particular 50-minute period) and I usually also have a ~7 day, ~3 month, ~12 month, and ~3 year list of to-dos/goals either pinned to my bulletin board or just floating around somewhere in my mind. I feel immensely more calm when I have some sort of plan—preferably written out in a spreadsheet with colour-coding and hyperlinks J. I really like having a sense of where I might head, even if past experience has shown me that that almost always changes.

Now, I’m about to go to India for approximately one year of fieldwork (focused on interreligious relations and based at an ashram.) And, now knowing this ^ about my goal-orientedness, you can appreciate my feelings of chaos when the ashram estate manager informed me “you can come and stay for 2-3 months, but after that let’s see.” I felt like I was treading water and a big wave splashed me in the face; I gasped and choked a little bit.

At present, I plan to be in India for ~11 months. How was I to cope with this “stay for 2-3 months and then we’ll see”? If I wasn’t going to remain at that place, I wanted to at least write down on a piece of colour-coded paper where I thought I’d be for the remaining months.

And so, my type-A brain is doing the next-best thing. I am planning not WHERE I want to be for the next 12 months, but WHO I want to be. Another way of conceptualising this has been: what do I want to get out of the next 12 months? Yet another way has been: what do I want to focus my energy on and contribute to during the next 12 months?


Who do you want to be (or, perhaps, to become) in the next 12 months? (Is that a question you ever ask yourself?)



I continue to ask these sorts of questions while preparing to head to India because, over my multiple trips to India in the past ~4 years, India has become a place where I have allowed myself to explore these questions in a very real way. Of course, I pose them in other places too, but I seem to pose them especially whilst out of my "regular" routine--and a lot of this has happened to be in India.

Evening aarti on the Ganges river in Varanasi

I think these are important questions to think through. (And so I’ve made a list and colour coded them.) Just kidding. Or am I?

Here are some of the things I want to spend my time doing. (And yes, I note they are still in the form of a to-do list. You can’t completely strip me of my organisational tendencies..)

- learn Hindi
- try to play an Indian classical instrument. Maybe the sarod.
- be happy
- be involved in the community I find myself in
- gather enough data to write a good PhD thesis
- don't become consumed by getting enough data to write a good PhD thesis
- sketch and draw
- meditate lots
- learn to record good audio (my own songs? Bhakti bhajans?)
- become better at video shooting and editing; make short videos about life in the ashram and life in india
- live simply and sustainably (maybe get involved with some community-kitchen projects, or agriculture)
- appreciate small things; say ‘thank you’ more often
- become less judgmental and more compassionate
- learn local ways of doing things (sewing? agriculture? cooking?) that I do not currently know
- learn what people outside of academia think about God/religion/interreligious relations
- practice communicating my thoughts on ^ for people inside and outside of academia
- spend time outdoors; go hiking
- write poetry
- find creative ways to enter [non-academic] discussions about what it means to live meaningfully
- learn more about who/what God is

Sunshine in Croatia

Of course I do realise that some of these are a bit more ambiguous than others are…

Broadly speaking, I find that, all too readily, I become stressed out about planning details and striving for goals that—in the grand scheme of things—don’t really matter all that much. For example, writing my PhD thesis: this is a good and admirable goal, and I intend to focus on content that I think is important for a number of reasons…but as soon as this particular goal takes over my ability to be a loving friend/family member, a kind neighbour, or a compassionate stranger, I think I have to seriously question whether I have my priorities straight.

This is difficult because, for the most part, we live in societies that are career/results-driven. At least in my experience, careers (and steps towards improving our careers) are the one thing that people are almost bound to congratulate others on.

I had a sort-of “aha!” moment in this regard when I was accepted for my PhD. Around the same time, a friend of mine (who is extremely intelligent and could certainly have gone on to do a PhD had she wanted to) decided to take a short-term contract position. At this same time, she also chose to put off any imminent plan of doing a PhD so that she and her husband could start their family without worrying about PhD stresses. People congratulated me on my PhD. And people congratulated her on her contract work. But a number of people asked her why she wasn’t doing a PhD, and I think very few (if any) congratulated her on her decision to devote her time and energy to her future-kids, to her marriage, and to all the other ways she was now able to volunteer within her community.  Why is this?

Why is it that we automatically congratulate and praise things associated with “measurable intelligence” and (presumably) pay-checks, but we rarely think to congratulate or praise people who have chosen to live in a way that leaves a small carbon footprint, or who grow their own vegetables, or who volunteer at the soup kitchen, or who do any number of other things that are inarguable examples of love for their community around them and/or for the world in which we live.

Rocks and rivers in Vancouver, Canada

Priorities change with opportunities, and this is inexorably wrapped up in priviledge. I recognise that, and I recognise that I'm not addressing that here. But, with the opportunities (and yes, the priviledges and Priviledge) that I have, I think I must seriously question whether I am using my time, energies, and passion well. Am I choosing to live in ways that grow me into a more loving and compassionate person? Am I choosing things that make me happy---and doing so in a way that does not abuse or hurt others--rather than choosing things that make me (in the eyes of some) "successful"? What might our world look like if we all strived to become more focused on love, compassion, and service to others rather than on success, prestige, and wealth? (I've written out some thoughts on a related topic here)

All this to say, I want to keep my priorities in check. And I want to be someone whose schedule and goals reflects their theoretical priorities. And I want to be someone who tries to praise and encourage others who engage in intentional acts of loving kindness. How about you, who/what do you want to be? As always, feel free to comment below or PM me.