Episodes of my podcast series: 99 - a Weekly 9-Minute Spiritual Journey
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99

The One Person You Must Meet

This entry is part 7 of 33 in the series 99: a journey

I want to share one of my favorite stories. I know it from the Taoist tradition, though maybe it has other roots as well. There was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically. “Maybe so,” the farmer replied. The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed. “Maybe so,” replied the old man. The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. “Maybe so,” answered the farmer. The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. “Maybe so,” said the farmer. The theme of today comes from the Arabic Al-Aziz. The meaning I’m using for that term is a special kind of strength. (Don’t you just love that there are so many variations of these qualities each week?) This is the kind of strength that the farmer had in the story. It’s mighty, sweet, and also beyond praise or blame…. you know… dualism. You have to know someone like this. Either in your own life, or from a book or movie… someone who is just …. steady, but in a kind way. If you think you don’t know someone like this, I offer that it might actually be YOU. In fact, I want you to imagine for a minute that it IS you. If you can, think of a moment when you were confident, kind, poised…. you were in the zone and feeling clear. Have you located that feeling? Ok. Hold on to it. Now if you can, I invite you to bring back a painful moment – maybe the worst thing that has ever happened to you. … but be gentle with yourself. Only what you feel you can handle at this moment. Do you have this feeling or this difficult moment? Ok. Now almost like these two feelings are two separate people, or two versions of you, I invite you to introduce them to each other. Confident, poised, clear you, meet the other you that’s feeling whatever you’re feeling. Watch the two you’s as they recognize each other, and slowly start to reach out and test to see if each is real. Notice what this meeting feels like. Is it cautious? Afraid? Joyous? Comforting? Still just observing, and noticing… Now as the two versions of you get more familiar with each other, they might realize that they’re both you—different, but also the same and as they notice this, they might start to move closer and closer, and eventually start to overlap and merge. Now they are one. The scared, or sad you is still there. The calm, confident, poised you is still there as well. Now they’re all combined and there is this kind of expansion that happens. Like that sadness and the scars from the bad experience weren’t wasted, but somehow feed into this inner strength that almost feels …. like it’s precious and joyous and sweet like you’ve never known. Imagine that those different versions of you were like two drops of water next to each other on glass. As they touch, each is absorbed into the other… The water from each drop is still there, but now they’ve made something new that at the same time is both drops -and also a new, expanded one. Do you ever feel like there are different parts of you? I used to feel like that. For instance, there was a confident, energetic version of me that showed up sometimes. Other times, there was a worrying version of me that was never good enough. There was a me who was sad and bitter from a failed relationship, certain it was all my fault. And so on, and so on… In truth, one day I realized. These are ALL me. The sadness and hurt is still there, but it has met the other parts – including the confident me, and the me who loves bad puns and wordplay, and all the other ones. The result, I’m still trying to figure out – I’m still getting to know this expanded drop of water that contains all of those previous versions. I can tell you that there is a certain amount of sweetness to the experience – like the farmer might have felt each time his fortunes seemed to swing like a pendulum, and the people around him were swept up in the drama. So, my friend, there’s someone divine I’d really like you to meet. Say hello to… yourself. 99: a journey Some Advice from Job about your Suffering Tending the Garden of Your Soul

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99

Tending the Garden of Your Soul

This entry is part 8 of 33 in the series 99: a journey

I grew up on a small farm in the U.S. That was a long time ago, but I still remember like it was yesterday. We had a big garden and I was given a little corner of it for myself. I would spend hours out there in the spring, getting my garden ready. When I was really young, my parents would till it for me, but as I got older, I did it myself. I would start by breaking up the hard clay soil, then add some compost and some sand to loosen up the dense earth so it would drain properly and the plants would have enough nutrients to grow…. and grow they did! I won a ribbon at the county fair with the cabbages, cucumbers, and I think cauliflower I grew one year. I got good at knowing how to fuss over my little plot just enough, and to let the plants know that they were loved. Sometimes I think that it was all the attention that made them flourish as much as it was the mechanical act of cultivating. Today’s subject comes from a word that in the Arabic, I’m told, means inner knowledge – the kind that comes from cultivation. As I read the prompt for our time together and started to write this episode, my mind was full of gardening metaphors; Here’s one: think of an onion. Imagine that your essence—whatever it is that makes you unique—is at center of a big, sweet onion, and the process of growing up and maturing is like starting at the outside of that onion, and peeling away layer after layer, one at a time, until you discover what’s really YOU. Some people seem to instinctively know who they are from the moment they are born. I call these people, “old souls.” Others of us aren’t so lucky. Some of us have to do the hard work of discovering what’s inside the onion – crying our way through layer after layer in search of meaning. Getting back to my little garden, I noticed that as I tilled the soil and took care of it more and more – spent time literally IN IT with my hands, I grew to know it better than anywhere else on earth. My INtention was turned into ATtention and this cultivating I did produced results. It was kind of amazing when I first realized that I could sense what the garden needed. What the plants needed. I knew if it was a little too dry and needed water. I knew when to stop watering. I knew when the latest juicy cucumber, that wasn’t ready the evening before, nearly jumped to get my attention the next morning. I’m ready! Pick me! Pick me! What if you could cultivate the garden of your own being like this? What if you spent a lifetime down on your knees with it – hands sinking into the dark, nourishing soil, fussing, trimming, tending. What would it be like to pay this kind of attention to yourself? Carl Jung said, “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” The darkness he’s talking about: Is it akin to the soil of your garden? What IS your darkness? As much as I romanticize the rich, black earth that made my garden grow, I know what the blackness comes from. I know what it is that nourishes prize-winning cucumbers. Death and dying and decay. Just like the cucumbers feasted on atoms and molecules that had been previously other plants and animals, your own spirit grows in symbiotic relationship. Think of the wisest, most loving, most patient person you know. Those qualities are like fruits. Fruits don’t just appear from nowhere. They need nourishment. Wisdom is the fruit of the mistakes of ignorance. Love is a fruit borne of suffering and rejection and fear. Patience grows best in soil nourished by decaying longing. How long since you have been in the garden of your soul? How is it? Overworked and exhausted? Wild and overgrown with brambles? Lush and green with new life? If you’re feeling triggered by this, it’s okay to walk away and come back later. Your garden will still be there. Sometimes it just needs to be left alone. But sometime when you feel curious, go into your garden and just look around. Notice what’s there without judgement. Get down on your knees and feel the soil in your hands. There might be a hard crust on top that you have to break through, but underneath that is where the magic happens. All the little deaths and big ones you have suffered were not in vain. They’re there—slowly decomposing into their component parts so something amazing can grow. You. 99: a journey The One Person You Must Meet Discover the Patience of an Ant

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99

Discover the Patience of an Ant

This entry is part 9 of 33 in the series 99: a journey

Are you always setting goals? Always striving for something? Are you certain that you’re ALMOST THERE, and when you finally get that one thing or do that one thing, THEN you will have arrived?? No? Good. Because that makes one of us who knows the secret here. Being an interfaith student and soon-to-be minister, I’ve come across more traditions than I can count who all say something about today’s topic – to endure. Part patience, part equanimity, part acceptance, where we’re going today is well – nowhere. Because *always going somewhere*  is exactly the point. I don’t know about you , but from as early as I can remember, I’ve been taught that I should have goals—that I should strive to be better. I’ve got to out-hustle the next guy, work harder, earn more, grow, grow, grow. There is a chance that growing and striving isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be. Here’s a series of questions: What about appreciating what’s already there – and will be gone in the blink of an eye? What if part of what it means to be human is to complain? About how I threw a party for fifty people and only ten showed up? About how it’s too cold or too hot, or the world is too hateful, or I don’t make enough money for how hard I work? Yes, there are trials and bad things happen. All the time. And… in the midst of bad things happening, good and beautiful things are happening as well. The patience we’re talking about today is wise and ageless patience. It doesn’t deny your suffering. Your suffering is real. The thing is, though, suffering is part of this existence. When we do everything in our power to minimize it or avoid suffering, aren’t we kind of just fooling ourselves? Henry David Thoreau said, “It’s not enough to be busy; so are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?” There’s something to consider. What are we busy about? It’s funny that this quote found me as I was writing this, because I was just thinking about ants. I think about a lot, actually. Where I live, in the summer, ants are everywhere… mostly on the sidewalks. As I walk around, I come across them every few feet. Whole colonies of them, just furiously doing whatever ants do. They seem so….. busy… I try not to step on them. (I’m that person who’s dodging and weaving around at random beside the street. If you wonder what that’s about, I’m trying not to step on the ants). So what ARE they doing? Is this deeply satisfying work they’re doing? Do you think they come home at the end of a shift and rub their sore antennae and gripe about the young ants just don’t work as hard? Are there little ant spiritual retreats where they go and study the ways of the ant-cestors (sorry, I couldn’t resist). Seriously though… Some of the religions I study are centered around a God or Divine consciousness that might observe us like we observe ants. What must that be like? Is God trying hard not to step on us? Does she wonder what all the fuss is about? Why we scurry and strive and make ourselves sick trying to build something that can’t be seen? I imagine that if God notices us at all, they might lovingly see our suffering and wish we could take comfort in this eternal patience. Knowledge that we are born, we live our lives, and we die, all in predictable, repeating patterns. If God could speak, God might remind us that we already have what we need on the day we are born. They might remind us that if there is any scurrying and striving to do, we might consider striving to know ourselves. To meet ourselves for the first time, and to spend a lifetime learning to appreciate things just as they are – rather than how they could be. None of this is to say we ought just spend our lives on the proverbial couch. Rather, What if you got to the end of this podcast and turned off your headphones and just looked around you – IRL – at what’s there? I don’t know about you, but I do this thing where I strive for the future and long for the past. Rarely, though, do I appreciate the present. When I had a big house and a fancy job and car and was unbelievably busy, I remember wondering what the heck had happened. Thinking back to when life was so simple – when I had a tiny apartment with hardly any furniture and a junky car. Some of my best memories came from that time when life WAS simple. And beautiful. It’s those things right now too. You are amazing. Whether you change or not. Whether you strive or not. Whatever you do. I bid you patience, my friend. Timeless, loving, humble patience. Not only will you get where you’re going – you’ve already arrived. 99: a journey Tending the Garden of Your Soul Aspire to Kindness like Dumbledore

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Harry Potter book lying on a table surrounded by autumn leaves, and open to Dumbledores Army chapter
99

Aspire to Kindness like Dumbledore

This entry is part 10 of 33 in the series 99: a journey

I’m speaking to the part of you that is lonely. The part you don’t let anyone see because it’s just too painful. I’m talking to the part of you that was unkind, or dishonest, or hateful. I’m talking to that part of you that was there in the moments you’re least proud of. Maybe even ashamed. From as far back as you can remember, you say you’ve felt loved and welcome in this life…. Mostly. But in truth, you wonder if that love is conditional. I mean, you’re allowed in the group – the family – whatever – as long as you play by the rules and behave like you’re’ supposed to. Whatever that means. What about that other part of you? What would it be like if you could bring your whole self? What would it be like for ALL of you to be out in the open? What would it be like to be loved unconditionally? That’s where we’re going today on our journey. I just read something very personal from someone I admire deeply. They’ve spent their entire life fighting – for two seemingly opposite things. On one hand, there’s this deep desire to be welcomed…. to be seen and loved without condition. Without condition. Warts and all. BREATHE Holy WOW. What would that be like? How amazing? I’m getting chills just thinking about a love so big, so pervasive, that says, “You’re human…. there is nothing a human can do, think, or say that diminishes you.” On the other hand, they’re doing what we all do sometimes – filtering. Holding back. Because that one thing I did… well…. nobody needs to see that. I mean seriously, that was the lowest of the low moments in my life. If I let you see it, then everything else about me is colored by it, no? That’s just it. The sort of love and kindness and mercy that we’re in company with today don’t care what you’ve done. This is the sort of  kindness that infects you when you least want it. You know what I mean? That friend that comes when you’re at rock bottom. “GO AWAY! Leave me alone!” you say – and you mean it. And You secretly hope they don’t. Because as much as you don’t want what they’re bringing, you need it. I told my twelve-year-old daughter about today’s topic and asked her what she thought it meant… this kind of fierce, unconditional love and kindness. She blurted out, “Dumbledore!” What? “Dumbledore. You’re describing the feeling I get whenever Dumbledore shows up in Harry Potter. It’s all in his eyes, ya know – it’s the strong kind of kindness and love, not the weak kind.” Of course, I pretended that I could have come up with something half this wise. There’s a song I sometimes use in times of trouble. Comfort me. Comfort me. Comfort me, oh my soul. Comfort me. Comfort me. Comfort me, oh my soul. Then you change out the word comfort and repeat. Things like: Speak to me, Speak to me, Walk with me, Protect me, and so on. It’s funny. The first time I heard it was on an election night when some people were shocked at the outcome, and had real fear about what was going to happen. Not knowing what to do, they came to a neighborhood house of worship that had its doors open and hundreds of candles lit outside on the entrance steps. About twenty people gathered at first and mostly sat together in silence, just needing company, but having that GO AWAY! feeling. Someone started that song quietly, and in just a few moments, everyone there started to join in. Tears were streaming, more people were packing into the small space, and no one had to say ANYTHING else. That room felt like being steeped in a tea of kindness and care and that’s what we all did. I later learned that the same song had been sung in New York on 9/11 and in the days after when people just needed this kindness to push back against the dark. People can bring it to you. Music can bring it to you. Dumbledore can bring it to you… It’s kind of like spiritual first aid. Here’s the part that really gives me hope. You have the power to bring it to others. You’ve already done it. Someone has been trying to have a bad day or to hate themselves and the whole world and along you’ve come and RUINED IT! In Islam, this is one of the traits of the Divine and some say it works the same way steel is made. You know steel? The metal – mostly iron, but stronger because it isn’t brittle. It’s been seasoned by other ingredients and then undergone a series of shocks of heat and cold. You’ve been through your own cycles of shocks and recoveries. Like steel, you’re stronger now. Unlike steel, you have the ability to share this transformation. Take your own strength and kindness and infect others. Start an outbreak. Those around you are going through their own painful process of being tempered by this life. Be their Dumbledore. Infuse them with a compassion and understanding they’ll want to reject, but can’t. Let them feel that there is nothing they can do that is beyond forgiveness. Nothing you are and nothing you do is beyond love. Nothing. 99: a journey Discover the Patience of an Ant Don’t Forget this Advice from the Buddha

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Recent Episodes of my Podcast. Interviews, random musings.
Head and shoulders photo of a smiling Ann Marie seated on a beige sofa against a calm, clean neutral-colored background Photo is taken from slightly above.
Podcast
Andrew

Raising Sparks: An Interview with Ann Marie Coletta

Welcome to another special Interview Episode of Prolificate where we get to hear from Ann Marie Coletta, the fierce and authentic founder of Raising Sparks Interfaith Ministry in one of San Francisco’s toughest neighborhoods, The Tenderloin. Ann Marie is one of the most moving interviews I’ve done, and for good reason. She has a way of sharing her experiences – which are incredible and can be a little scary – with a gentleness and care that’s unlike anyone you’ll ever meet. She has been there, and done that for over twenty years as an all-star social worker, practicing Zen Buddhist, and a recovering alcoholic who tells it like it is. I hope you appreciate this as much as I did. Enjoy. If you want to connect with Raising Sparks, you can find their website (coming soon at the time I’m writing this) at https://raisingsparksinthestreets.com/. Their phone number is (415) 933-5955 or email raisingsparksinthestreets@gmail.com Blessings to you for listening and caring. Blessings to Ann Marie and those she is walking with. Don’t forget, that a prolific world includes each and every one of us. May we both be encouraged by this story. Go out into the world in peace and have courage Hold on to what is good Return to no person evil for evil. Strengthen the fainthearted, Support the weak. Help the suffering, and honor all beings. Including you.

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Notes from the Field: Elation and Disappointment

I keep making these recordings as I leave the hospital to capture what I’ve experienced. While I cannot share any identifying details to protect patient confidentiality, it feels important to remember these experiences. Today, I realize that I have a favorite patient – even though you’re not supposed to. The reality of the situation felt really raw, so of course, I had to record it. Turns out Chaplains are people too. 🙂

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a little yellow flower growing from cracked, dried up mud
Podcast
Andrew

Ashes, Dust, Tears, and Laughter

This is a short update after a really intense week. I have been serving as a chaplain at a local hospital, and the experience has been so intense, I just had to share what it’s like. (Don’t worry, it isn’t all sad, but it IS powerful). Some brief notes from the podcast episode: Ash Wednesday – “According to Rabbi Bunim of P’shiskha, everyone should have two pockets, each containing a slip of paper. On one should be written: I am but dust and ashes, and on the other: The world was created for me. From time to time we must reach into one pocket, or the other. The secret of living comes from knowing when to reach into each. The quandary of interfaith chaplaincy to a variety of people Dispensing wisdom vs serving             Rachel Naomi Remen’s article: Healing vs Fixing vs Serving How to pray – when that’s something that’s been hard for me to do in the past.             Ironically, it hasn’t been that hard with patients.

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unlearning everyday racism
Podcast
Andrew

Unlearning Everyday Racism

I recently spoke with Kalissa Scopes of Unlearning Everyday Racism. This was, at times, an emotional interview (for me). Not to spoil this, but toward the end of our conversation I ask Kalissa what she’s most afraid of. What she answered was profoundly moving.

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Blog Posts and other special features

On the way. Wednesday, May 15th. Miami Airport.

https://www.listeningtoayahuasca.com It’s Wednesday, May 15th, 2024. I’m sitting in the Miami airport and am halfway through my 3-day “planes, (no) trains, and automobiles” journey to Gaia Sagrada retreat center outside Cuenca, Ecuador. 

When I get there, on Friday, I’ll have a day to settle in before we get started with the 12-day retreat. 

Because I’ve heard so much about this plant medicine and its intensity, I’ve been trying to prepare myself by reading about other people’s experiences. I’ve also been doing my best to heed their advice and tips.

Like many things, I’m probably overdoing the buildup for this experience, but I suppose it’s one way I deal with the unknown: There’s a part of me (named Atlas) whose job it is to try and anticipate all the things that might happen and to be uber-prepared for any of them. Atlas honest-to-God packed a Phillips screwdriver for this trip to the Andes. (It makes perfect sense once you think about it). At any rate, Rachel Harris’ book is so far an interesting compilation of her personal experiences as well as those of her patients over many years of studying the kinds of healing, recovery, and psycho-spiritual breakthroughs that are possible. Maybe give it a read or listen. I’ll be staying the night in Quito before catching another flight to Cuenca – a smaller colonial town of ~ 600,000 people up in the mountains. Ciao.

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An Update

Thank you for your support. Really.  Since my son Dillon’s series of seizures on April 17th, and his few days in hospital, he has been steadily recovering. In some ways, and to someone who has never met him, he appears completely normal.  He tells another story though. Although each day is a little better than the one before, and he hasn’t had any more seizures, his brain is still not what it was… agile, responsive, and capable.  He is back to working a light/limited schedule helping his boss with the administrative bits of running several restaurants.  He seems to have received this as a wake up call and reminder that life is short, precious, and unpredictable, and to make damned sure he’s living in a way that matters to him.  I’m grateful he’s okay, and your prayers and kindness continue to be needed and appreciated. As the initial crisis phase of this whole thing tapers off, I’m increasingly aware that I have work to do with my own spirit. At this point in my life (like many folks), I’ve been through things that have buckled my knees and bent my spirit into the funny and unique thing that it is today. Yes, I’ve been resilient and blessed in many ways. And. This feels like a section break in my life’s story… that blank page in between where it’s a good time for a drink refill and a bathroom break. Although I’ve done a fair bit of self-work (I have an impressively thick stack of therapy receipts at this point), the truth is that it’s time for me to take a step forward in examining my fears and the collage of scars and duct tape that has carried me through two divorces, the loss of my kids’ mom to suicide, and a few other loop-the-loops and barrel rolls along the way.  I’m aware of the fleetingness of life…. that my life (or anyone’s) could end at any point (mine hopefully in such outrageous fashion that folks at my memorial will be straining to hold back laughter….. taken out by a falling blue chunk of ice from an airplane toilet anyone?).  Gallows humor aside, I also want to be prepared so that if I happen to live for another few decades, I’m not causing nightmares to those around me because I’m such a suppressed mess!  Since leaving my most recent job at The Chaplaincy Institute, I’ve been taking time to rest, meditate, exercise, attend some art therapy sessions, generally turn inward, and tend to what I find there. As I do this, I’m finding myriad more questions. To that end, I’ve decided to do some solo travel to South America starting about a week from now. I’ll first be heading to Ecuador for a retreat with ayahuasca and San Pedro plant medicine healers to help in the process of self discovery.  Who knows what the future holds, but if I have one bit of advice, it is this:  Do the thing you are here in this life to do. Ask the questions you’ve been afraid to ask. Give the hugs that would be awkward but you’d love to give. Say the things out loud that you haven’t had the time or courage to say. Hold yourself (and me) accountable to living a life of meaning – whatever that might look like to you.  If you’re reading this, you’ve had a part to play in my story. You may not know that it’s an important part, but it is. I appreciate you. I listen and learn from you. I value your time and friendship, and I look forward to the next time our paths cross.  Until then, thank you for caring, following along when the plot gets weird, and showing up for me. May you experience how good that support feels. A thousand times over. In gratitude.  AC

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Blog
Andy

Immigration: gender matters.

This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series Immigration

Immigration Series: Part V For this final installment, I want to look at gender and how it interplays with immigration. Perhaps it would be helpful to clarify the baseline definition of gender. The following is adapted from the Apple dictionary entry: Gender: “either of the two sexes (male and female), especially when considered with reference to social and cultural differences rather than biological ones. The term is also used more broadly to denote a range of identities that do not correspond to established ideas of male and female:” Although the words gender and sex are often used interchangeably, they have slightly different connotations; sex tends to refer to biological differences, while gender more often refers to cultural and social differences and sometimes encompasses a broader range of identities than the binary of male and female. “What does gender have to do with someone moving from one country or culture to another,” you ask? Let’s take a look, shall we? The first thing that comes to mind is that in many cultures that are heterosexual and patriarchal, there are clearly-defined roles for men and women. Around the world, the poorer and more strongly patriarchal the society is, the (disproportionately) worse women fare in terms of health. Often, women are expected to take care of the rest of the family by cooking, cleaning, and meeting household needs like gathering wood or fuel for cooking and cleaning in addition to then leaving for a long day of working outside the family for money. Those women then return after long days only to have to prepare meals and wash clothing for the family members to prepare for the next day. It’s not hard to imagine why a woman would want to emigrate– to leave a situation like this for better opportunities, and many do. On the immigration side, gender roles influence the way that people are perceived in the host society. If the receiving society is heavily patriarchal, then immigration of women may be viewed with less suspicion or resistance. Women often move into roles like domestic service, sex or entertainment work, and in general, may move more freely within the culture. This may lend the immigrant population a less permanent nature as the women retain ties to their home culture by remittances (sending part of their earnings back home) and continued travel / migration back and forth. When populations of men migrate, the character of the immigration is different. Men may be less likely to migrate alone and then to bring their families with them. This creates a more rooted immigrant community within the receiving culture, which may be perceived as more disruptive. In the case of family migration, women often serve as connectors within the new community which acts as a kind of glue. Bringing the family unit along from one culture to another allows for continued social and cultural events, religious observance, and a continued sense of identity, which is often fostered by women. Lastly, gender plays an interesting role when migration happens between cultures with different notions of gender. When the receiving society is less patriarchal, people who were forced to adhere to a strict binary of male/female in the old culture may feel free to “come out” in the new one. People who are non-binary, gender-fluid, or trans-gender may find themselves able for the first time to claim an identity that previously had to be suppressed or hidden. Conversely, migrating from a more liberal society to a more conservative one may force people to hide parts of their identities to conform to more rigid expectations around gender. While this might seem like a curiosity on the surface, it can be a life-threatening reality for many when examined more deeply. Again, stories can be apparent and operate as obvious public narratives. For many of us, stopping at this level of understanding is all we feel necessary. When something doesn’t make sense, however, it is often by looking beneath the surface for the hidden narrative that we can find answers (or at least more helpful questions). How do you experience immigrants? Are they immigrants or are they people who migrate? How does the story of your life intersect with the story of theirs? What would it take to make you leave your country, culture and relationships behind to move to a new country? Would you have the courage to do it? Would you take your religion or your food or your music with you or would you try to assimilate to the new place? We haven’t covered politics or the arbitrary idea of nation-states as ways to divide the world, but those ideas are just as complicated, with surface stories and hidden stories of their own. Any way you examine the issue, it appears that human beings have certain needs that must be met. It is in the ways we meet those needs that we differentiate ourselves. I have found this look at immigration helpful, and I hope you have too. May we both be reminded that humans have far more in common than the things that make us different. May we be curious and ask the question “Why?”more often instead of simply accepting the narrative that our own cultures provide us. May we ask ourselves,“What would I do?” when we are puzzled or frustrated with someone different than we are. I leave you with a quote from the Sufi, Hazrat Inayat Khan: “I wandered in the pursuit of my own self; I was the traveler, and I am the destination.” Whether traveler, expatriate, immigrant, or emigrant, may we each remember that we are all searching for something. Be curious. Immigration Why do Immigrants bring their religion with them?

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Wheel of religious symbols
Blog
Andy

Why do Immigrants bring their religion with them?

This entry is part 4 of 5 in the series Immigration

Immigration Series: Part IV Immigrants are sometimes recognizable in a host society by the ways they act differently. One of the more recognizable ways of acting can be motivated by religion. I am thinking of a taxi driver I once saw stop his car, retrieve a prayer rug from the trunk, and perform salat – ritual prayer done 5 times each day by observant Muslims. Because I live in a Christian culture, this immediately triggered a story for me about who this person was and how they came to be on their knees in a gas station parking lot. This brings up a question right away: Why doesn’t the person just assimilate to the new host culture? Move to the United States (in this case), learn English, become Christian, and learn to love hot dogs, action movies, and pizza like other Americans. But wait: Pizza is Italian, though, right? Never mind pesky questions that blur the lines of my tidy narrative. We’re talking about religion. One of the ways I try to understand issues like this one – why people who immigrate don’t just assimilate – is to imagine myself in their situation. If I were Christian and my religion gave me great comfort, I would probably feel a great deal of gratitude or loyalty to it. If circumstances then changed in my own country and became bad enough that I had no other choice but to leave, it makes sense that I would take my religion with me, no? After all, my faith might be the one thing that carried me this far and gave me the strength to consider leaving my home in search of something better. Why would I abandon the very God who allowed me to survive and make this change? Although the religions might be different depending on the context, immigrants move all over the world: from Turkey to Germany, from South America to Asia, from India to Africa. It only makes sense that they would bring their religious practices with them. Imagine yourself in a strange new place where the language, the customs, and the culture are completely unfamiliar. Would you long for the comfort of the home you remember? Would you jump at the chance to create a sense of community – the familiar – among all the foreign? I would. This is why we find small, but vibrant Brazilian Catholic church communities in Japan, Korean Christian Churches in San Francisco, and Mosques in London. I have come to understand that religion is an inseparable part of culture, even for those who deny that religion. The Western calendar is calibrated off of Jesus’ birth. Our culture ebbs and flows in a yearly cycle marked by Christian festivals like Christmas and Easter (which were themselves overlaid on pre-Christian religious festivals). Our criminal courts have a jury of twelve, one representing each tribe of Israel, our Presidents place their hand on the Christian Bible to profess their adherence to its code as they are sworn into office. Religion, which means, “that to which we bind ourselves,” is yet another story with many levels. On the surface, it is often a system of beliefs and practices that one uses to be in relationship with God or some higher power. Like other cases, there is also a deeper, sometimes hidden story about not being alone.When all else fails, when everyone and everything I know has left or has changed, my religion binds me to the one thing that does not – and will not – change. Why not cast that off and assimilate to the religion of a new culture? Some do, of course, but I have to ask, “why would I?” Immigration Race & Ethnicity: our Favorite Fairytales Immigration: gender matters.

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