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“The lamps are different – but the Light is the same.” ~ Rumi
While our cultures, traditions, and beliefs may differ, light emanates from the same shared human experience.
It’s been said living in a diverse environment —
- enriches one’s perspectives,
- broadens one’s horizons, and
- teaches us that our differences are but threads woven together into a tapestry of humanity.
My own life has been enriched by mingling with the peoples of the world.
I’ve traveled to 30 different countries on five continents and spent 37 years of my life in Chicago, home to neighbors from more than a hundred different nations.
I’ve been truly blessed by my exposure to the world but among all the countries I find there’s something special about India. Her spirit awakens the soul, her wisdom shapes the heart.
To walk the land of Mother India is to be changed forever.
So it was in 2016, after 40 years, I returned to India, this time as a “medical tourist.”
Little did I know I’d be given something much greater than a new smile.
The noted historian Will Durant says India, for 5,000 years, has been humanity’s mother.
- mother of Sanskrit and Europe’s languages
- mother of western philosophy
- mother, through Buddha, of the ideals embodied in Christianity
- mother, through village community, of self-government and democracy.
I first encountered the notion of Mother India in the book, The Razor’s Edge by Somerset Maugham.
It’s the story of an extended Indian pilgrimage by a shattered World War I soldier who was in search of healing, meaning and happiness.
A search not an unfamiliar to many of us.
The Upanishads describes it this way: “The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard.”
When I first visited India in 1976 I was young and impetuous.
- I was not on a search but on a mission.
- I was led by my will not my heart.
- I was headstrong and hell bent on change.
My story was not that I needed India but that India needed me.
By 2016 life had long since dealt with my hubris. I’d been:
- mellowed
- tempered
- sobered
On this trip to India I went as a man, not as a boy.
When I landed in Mumbai, I immediately found myself mingling with 22 million of India’s children.
In Mumbai there’s no such thing as private space.
Public sidewalks are places of work by day and domiciles by night.
I was a very small one — in the midst of a very large many.
As I waited for my ride to the clinic I remember hiding from humanity by staring at my phone.
Then Mother India happened upon me.
In one unguarded moment I looked up and caught the eye of a very old woman who was serenely weaving, seated on her braided mat.
Our eyes locked in on one another and I found it impossible to look away. She seemed to be looking straight through me.
On the mat upon which she sat were blankets, pots, cooking utensils, an all-weather tarp and various Hindu religious artifacts.
All her worldly possessions.
I thought, how could such serenity coexist within someone who possessed so little?
My whole world had been one of ever expanding horizons.
Her life had been played out entirely on a 4 by 6-foot braided mat.
Then the question siezed me:
- What if we traded places?
- What if it was I who was seated on the mat?
- What if my world was this 4 by 6-foot shared space?
I asked myself how would I feel If her lot was — mine.
I was momentarily overwhelmed.
It was then the expression on her face suddenly changed, as if from across the ether she heard my question and felt my anguish.
She burst into a broad, bright, glowing smile.
Just like a mother who had found a long lost child.
She whispered into the ear of my consciousness.
ALL WILL BE WELL. ALL WILL BE WELL.
The words any child most wants to hear.
Mother India had claimed a son.
Gandhi observed, “Mother India changes you, not by the sword, but by the soul. She does not conquer; she absorbs and transforms.”
So it was for me.
Then the reality of the moment intervened.
My ride had arrived.
I saw in that moment what I had failed to see forty years ealier, the three things Buddha reminds us that truly matter:
- How much you loved;
- How gently you lived and
- How gracefully you let go of things…
…not meant for you.
Just a thought…
Pat