Lessons from Ramadan رَمَضَان

Friendship breakups, aborted missions and Darjeeling tea

I love to travel. I have made it such a central part of my life that I dare say I often take the privilege of travel for granted. Where most journey abroad maybe once in a lifetime, usually for no longer than a couple of weeks or so, my family and I regularly visit friends throughout the world, often staying for months at a time. We do not stay in fancy resorts but only go where we are invited and generally have no plans other than surrendering to the unfolding events of each day. It’s quite fun to raise our daughter this way. Some call this “worldschooling”, we just call it life.

For better or for worse, each year in our home in Northern Thailand, we are literally smoked out due to agricultural burning resulting from increased pressures from giant international companies like CP Group to clear land for GMO corn that will be fed to factory raised cows and pigs. The AQI often reaches to 500-600. Its extremely toxic to breathe air that is this polluted so, we are forced to flee. We try to make the best of it by using this time as a way to explore more of the world. This year, we went to visit a place in the world very near to my heart, Northeast, India.

Unfortunately, as the world rapidly embraces modernity, either willingly or by force, it has become harder for us to find a place where the air is clean enough for my asthma to not be triggered. I erroneously thought that, surely if we journeyed high into the Himalayan regions we would be safe. I was sorely mistaken. As places deemed “undeveloped” swiftly attempt to catch up with more materially advanced countries, the transition is often messy, at best. The amount of dust now covering India (and most parts of Asia for that matter) that results from industrialization, as they build dams, shift from traditional homes made of natural materials into concrete ones, make the transition from small-scale, culturally rooted villages to factory and/or tourist based economies, etc., is only matched by the amount of smoke rising from burning plastic and forest underbrush. In our entire stay in Kalimpong, which sits at the foot of the third tallest mountain in the world, we only caught a glimpse of mighty Khangchendzonga once.

In addition to smoke triggering my asthma, other factors, such as stress can trigger serious attacks. The entire time we were in Kalimpong, for example, a little girl living beside us received a constant stream of well wishers, priests and shaman attempting to exorcise a demon from her. As I stated in my last post, the veil is thin in this corner of the world and such cases are commonplace. Evidently there were many demons. During our stay, they were unable to rid the poor girl of all of them. We gathered with her day and night to offer what support we could, but something very evil was winning the battle. And it was taking its toll on all of us.

For those interested in astrological movements, very curious planetary alignments were forming overhead as all this unfolded. A new moon both inspired Shivaite devotees and followers of Allah, whom could be found throughout town gathering to make extraordinary prayers. Additionally, a major Tibetan Buddhist ritual had been going on nearby for nearly two weeks already, adding to the intensity of it all. Believer or not, all these events pile up and create curious conditions to be sure. India is never a casual affair. Unapologetic and raw. It requires a thick layer of skin and great humility, as so often does life. And, to put it mildly, my skin was growing thin.

As the terrifying screams from our neighbor overshadowed our unique family vacation, I received a call from an old friend who wanted to inform me he no longer wants to be friends with me. As the old saying goes, when it rains it pours. Although we were all praying for rain, to put out the fires, this was not the kind of rain I was expecting. My asthma quickly went from bad to worse as I tried to make since of it all. What were we doing here? Why is the world this way? What can I do? What have I done wrong???

My old friend and I have worked together professionally for many years, globally, attempting to offer myriad opportunities for young people to be exposed to alternative narratives, more beneficial ways of living, to find peaceful solutions to conflict, etc. Yet in the end, we couldn’t manage to bring peace into our own relation. We both have very high ideals and, so it seems, this can ironically often do more harm than good, resulting in “too many cooks in the kitchen” unable to allow for other views to be seen, incapable of actually embodying the big ideas they feel so compelled to preach.

Eventually, I broke. On top of all the strangeness surrounding us locally, cupped with my regret over bringing my family into a situation that was causing them too to get sick, the news from Gaza, mixed with the deeply troubling and uninspiring reality that my home country, the U.S.A. is only able to offer Trump as an alternative to the nightmarish scenarios now facing us all under the leadership of Biden, resulted in me hitting a wall. My asthma swelled up to dangerous levels forcing us to abort our trip entirely, to change our flights and head back to Thailand early in order to receive proper medical care.

As I sat in the airport in Calcutta, waiting to board our flight home, I received a voicemail from a dear friend who is Muslim. She told me how her community and her are now celebrating Ramadan, one of the Five Pillars of Islam, and that during this time all is forgiven. She mentioned how she was now actively forgiving all those who she feels have wronged her as well as reaching out to her supposed “enemies” to ask them for forgiveness. She informed me how at this auspicious time, the faithful lay down their hate and acknowledged a higher law, one that knows that justice does not always look how we think it should look, that everything isn’t always for us to understand, that sometimes all we can do is let go, surrender and do what we can to create the causes for peace.

Needless to say, this information hit hard. I thought about all the animosity in the world brewing now. How angry I get at modernity (i.e. “western culture”) when I see big dam projects displacing thousand-year-old, culturally in-tact communities, replacing elegant mud homes with cold, ugly concrete boxes, organic home grown meals replaced with pre-made “foods” and single use plastic, etc. I reflected over how much humans now seek revenge for past wrongs inflicted upon their ancestors, how disgusted many Americans have become with their seemingly emotionless leaders who won’t take the steps they feel are needed to #ceasefire, etc. And I envisioned my Muslim friend, reaching out to her enemies, not to cut them from her life, but to invite them over for tea, to listen.

Can I do this? Do I have the capacity? Have I tried to be the hero for so long that I have forgotten how to be human, to make mistakes, to forgive my own shortcomings and those of others? When was the last time I called over my fascist neighbors to check in and see how they were doing? When did I last attend a Proud Boys rally, not to interview them with the intention of mocking them but to actually hear them, to recognize that they too, like me, are tired, confused, seeking meaning from these mad, mad times? When was the last time I truly listened to anyone other than “me”?

If there is one thing that is certain, it is that more fire does not put out the flames. I have not been kind to my old friend. I have not been that kind to myself either. Over the years small differences have escalated. I have not been wise in how I tended to these little sparks and now a fire is raging. What if I were to simply lay down my sword, stop trying to be heard, be the perfect dad, the perfect activist, the perfect teacher, etc. and instead focused simply on listening deeply to others? For surely, if I cannot do this myself, than I have no right to get so angry at my “stubborn” friend who “just won’t listen to me(!)”, just like all those pesky political leaders, and corporate CEO’s, or my Jewish friends who are unable to listen to Palestinian brothers and sisters, and vice versa. What if I slowed down and held up the mirror? Maybe for just a moment I could feel connected again. For as the great Hindu teacher, Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj said, “I am that.”

We are back in Thailand now. I have been admitted to a hospital here, diagnosed with a pneumonia. I have a lot of time now to think. And what I’m thinking of most is forgiveness. I feel responsible for having dragged my family into a region of the world that I personally love without having first thought to ask them what their needs/desires/etc. were. We don’t all seek the same things. We don’t all hear the same things, dream the same dreams, feel the same feels. My old friend and colleague certainly has his own unique style, and this is a good thing. I want to know more now about what he yearns for, if it isn’t too late. So too, I wish to know more about what my wife wishes to explore, what my neighbors and all the people I cross by on the street each day seek, those whom I usually never stop to even consider. Blame is exhausting. May there always be space at the table for different opinions.

:::Please, If I have ever wronged you, forgive me. Come, let’s share some tea together. I have plenty first flush from Darjeeling to share! I want to listen to you.

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#mayallbeingsbefree