A Search for Unity

Here’s a very well expressed thought that I think is so important for us to understand and to act upon.

As the current global financial crisis unfolds there are a lot of words being thrown around on the subject of recession. I’m no economist, but the concept that any economy of any scale can healthily and sustainably experience continued growth seems absurd. There is no system in nature that does that, and to think that man can create one seems to me either an arrogant or an ignorant overlooking of her laws.

What is even more absurd, as No Impact Man says so well, is that the way in which we measure this growth is using economic metrics that have little, if any, relationship to those things which indicate true prosperity: health, happiness, security, stability and freedom. Indeed most of these things have been on the decline the world over for a long time, and yet the world’s greatest economies have been growing.

How has it happened that the manner in which we measure the success of society as a whole has become so far removed from what it means to be human? We have created whole industries—today’s financial industry is I think the prime example—whose primary purpose is not to supply the things we need to stay alive, happy, and develop as human beings. Instead they exist to generate financial returns.

This “free marketism” has created such a strain on our planet that we are running headlong towards environmental crises of unprecedented proportion: energy shortages, climate change, clean water and food shortages. And yet we and our governments still want that any solutions to these problems are “economically viable” in the short term before we support them. It shows how reactive we are as a society.

The warnings are there already: the crises the planet faces are not financial and economic, but far more fundamental, far more difficult ones. Perhaps we will heed the signs and take more significant and meaningful action now—that will be the less painful route—and there is reason to be optimistic that more and more people are becoming aware of this; but if we don’t, then I can’t help but feel that the change of consciousness will be forced upon us by an enormous upheaval of nature.

In the words of John Ruskin, “there is no wealth but life.”

It’s been a busy Summer so far for me, and a memorable one. It started with graduation from university; I can now profess myself to be a master of all things mechanically engineered. If only. I’m still as clueless about the underside of a car bonnet as the next person. Who currently happens to be an accountant. Most poignant.

But seriously, I can’t believe how quickly it has gone! It seems like only yesterday that I was moving into the halls of residence in my first year. The ups and downs of the last few years are already becoming blurry in my memory—friendship, illness, romance (shhh), pure randomness, and there was a little bit of work here and there too. I learnt a fair bit, about myself, life, people, and the consequences of traipsing about improperly clothed in the snow.

I don’t miss it just yet (probably because I’m still on a very long holiday), but I suspect I will. Especially when I realise that the annual five months or so of holiday have been whittled down to a mere five weeks. Not to mention the fact that I will no longer be able to walk about with white socks and sandals on my feet at work.

Much else has happened since then. My cousin got married, in Norway. His fiancée (now wife) is Norwegian. That meant our clan, numbering about 50 (that too, trimmed at the edges), descending upon the unsuspecting Oslowegian public for a weekend. I think it’s fair to say that they’re not much used to dealing with a rowdy, disorganised bunch of Indians (or, to be politically and historically correct, People of Indian Origin, given that none of my family was actually born in India) in festive spirit. It’s probably also fair to say that you can’t ever really get used to some things.

Speaking of tying the knot, there are a few things that I learnt about weddings, and in particular weddings involving People of Indian Origin (though I’m sure the cultural connotations can quite easily be transposed to many other traditions):

• Weddings are happy and emotional occasions. Take a handkerchief. Two if you have a partner. Three if you’re particularly emotional.
• Weddings are also stressful occasions. More opportune moments exist for playing practical jokes on people. This is particularly so for people who can trace their origins to the quiet little Tanzanian town of Moshi, but that’s a whole nuther story.
• If you are a non-PIO marrying a PIO, expect your family to be fantastically outnumbered and out-voiced by his or her family. Hopefully you get on with them! Don’t even bother trying to remember all the names.
• In many ways weddings and the adjoining celebratory events are for the benefit of the families of the couple. This is almost invariably so for the aforementioned PIOs. Too bad if you wanted a small, private affair without all the family members thrice removed attending. It’s not going to happen. The sooner you reconcile yourself to this fact, the more hair you will have on your head come wedding day. I personally have in mind the perfect solution to this conundrum, which is to elope. It’s cheaper, too. And let’s not even talk about the cost of weddings these days.
• While I’m on about PIOs, trying to organise them to pose for group photographs requires much more than a loud voice and a prodding implement. Anger management is a worthwhile qualification. Norwegians, on the other hand, are very organised. Which is why the Norwegians had photographs taken.
• Traditional Indian attire for men really does not go with Western-style shoes. And I’m no fashion expert.
• Immediately after a wedding, the focus of attention (and of amateur match-making efforts) will shift to the next eligible bachelor or bachelorette in the family (”eligibility” being open to some interpretation). Any person to find themselves in the firing line has my deepest sympathies.

It was a lovely event, all in all, and one that I’ll remember for a long time. It was also an opportunity to catch up with extended family members that I haven’t seen for years, which was also wonderful.

But now I’m tired, and a random blue-screen-of-death moment has made me rewrite this once already. So I’ll continue rambling some other time…

I’ve been toying with this idea for a while now, and I think the time has come for it to be put into practice: from now on, my computer is staying off on Sundays.

I spend far too much time at the computer—in excess of 8 hours a day on average. A lot of that time is spent working, but a lot is also spent on more leisurely activity (instant messaging, Wikipedia-hopping, YouTube-ing, frivolous time-wasting on social networking sites, et cetera). Not to say that all of those activities are to be avoided; but then there is more to life than sitting slouched in front of a screen—I find it dissatisfying.

Signs that it isn’t helping me are the slightly arthritic and painful swelling on my fingers, the itchy eyes and at the end of the day and, worst of all, that contemptible tendency to prefer interaction with people behind a screen to more direct communication.

I think this ailment is perhaps best remedied by a return to nature, and to a simpler interaction with the world. I need to get my hands dirty more often. A step in that direction is a low-tech Sunday.

Satish Kumar’s autobiography, No Destination, is a fascinating read. Born into a Jain family in India, he left home at the age of nine, after the demise of his father. Discarding all worldly possessions he became a wandering Jain monk. After several years, however, he became disillusioned with the life he had chosen, and discarded the ascetic garb. Having once renounced the world however, he was refused acceptance back into the family by his widowed mother. Kumar was forced to remain a wanderer of sorts.

The book takes us through the many other formative experiences of the author, and paints a picture of how his ideals and outlook were shaped by them. The experiences are as diverse as they are unique. In some parts the narrative tends towards a list of places and names, and events are given just a cursory mention. But it is nonetheless interspersed with beautiful insights and effused with the author’s joy of living.

Ecology, environment and spirituality are the central themes of the book, as indeed they are of Kumar’s life and work. His message is one of peace, love and appreciation of the sanctity of all life.

Once human consciousness has changed, once we have a new awareness of our place in the scheme of things, once we have realised that there is more to life than the unending chase for material possessions, and once we focus on the importance of being rather than having, we will see a dramatic transformation all around us.

Satish Kumar is the editor of the Resurgence magazine, and is also programme director at the Schumacher College.

I’ve just finished reading, Rabindranath Tagore’s Atmaparichay (Of Myself), a collection of autobiographical writings by the Bengali poet. And it was with great delight that I did so.

Tagore does not venture to give us a mundane description of his life. Instead I think he tries to convey something more central: who he was, and what he lived for. At the same time he makes some piercing observations about the world that we live in, the trappings of power, fame and ‘high-speed society’.

In the succession of essays there is a sense of his development as a poet and of his relationship with the Divine. The two are linked inextricably, for he considered his work through poetry to be to awaken and raise the human spirit to the Divine. His work was an attempt to convey that rapture of divine consciousness which was so much at the core of his experience.

My heart and soul have responded to the unarticulated message, the unstruck note that swirls about Creation and resonates from Time that has no beginning towards Time that has no end…

I am not a holy man, not an ascetic. I have merely tasted the imperishable essence of the cosmos and returned again and again to say how good it was.

Tagore was and still is a revered and well-known figure in India. With this came the inevitable fame and public scrutiny of his life and work. But these did not bear on his worldly purpose. It was his nature as a poet, above all else, that dominated his being. It was this that he came to do, and this that sustained him. This is in my view the rare mark of a life whose song was in perfect consonance with the cosmic melody.

Love is the greatest blessing of fate, and it is also the best reward for a poet. He who can offer nothing but work may be repaid with fame, but he whose burden it is to offer joy cannot be paid off without love as his due.