Thursday, May 04, 2006
Meeting the Rest of the World
San Franciso is filled with people from somewhere else (including yours truly). They have interesting stories to tell. But for some reason, I have always been a bit hesitant to initiate conversations with strangers--say people you meet in stores or on buses, in part because I feel there is truly very little I can share about my own life (as a poet/mystic/lesbian whose existence has been shaped by kundalini awakening for so many years.) I generally feel like a "stranger in a strange land," and play safe by confining my verbal exchanges to those I already know, friends or others I have things in common with.
But lately I have been reaching out more. I speak with all sorts of people, and have met some interesting fellow human beings. I have a long standing interest in Tibet and Tibetan spirituality. Recently, while riding the city bus, I talked with a Tibetan immigrant who was saying prayers while she fingered her mala (prayer beads). And, yes, she was repeated the famous mantra, "Om Mani Padme Hum." She explained to me that her sister, who had been quite ill, had recovered by praying in this way. (I realized she was Tibetan from her looks--they are, I think, a most beautiful people. Many of the faces of the immigrant women seem to be the prototypes for the ancient depictions of goddesses--perhaps the gene pool has remined much the same over the years.)
Today, (again on the bus) I spoke with an octogenarian from Kiev. (She also had attended the symphony today). A meteorologist by profession, she had flown missions with the Russian Army during WWWII so that she could get close up views of the weather in the region. She has come to San Francisco in part to get away from the lingering after effects of the Chernobyl disaster.
In the book store recently, I met a woman who had come here from Mexico as a child. She had worked most of her life in clerical positions to support her family. She loves foreign films and art films (as I do), particularly those with a social slant. She confided that her daughter was a lesbian, and that she (the mother) was a member of an organization for parents of gays and lesbians. When I told her I was also a lesbian, she was quite pleased.
When I was unable to find a seat in the museum cafeteria, a very nice couple invited me to sit with them The wife, a retired public school teacher, was--wonder of wonders--a native San Franciscan. This is primarily a city of immigrants (including Americans seeking a wider culture), so it is very unusual to meet someone born and bred here in this city. They had come for the "Arts and Crafts Exhibit" (from William Morris on) which I also wanted to see. (That is where I saw the intriguing wood sculpture of himself carved by a Japanese Buddhist monk over a century ago.) We felt especially connected because we all had come from teaching careers.
What, someone might ask, does all of this have to do with kundalini or even spirituality as such? Well, this is a time when all of us need to be more open, to come to know our sisters and brothers better that we may honor them and their life experience. We have more in common than we know. Each life story is an important chapter in our universal tale of being human. As they say, "We are all in this together," and together we will sink or swim.
But lately I have been reaching out more. I speak with all sorts of people, and have met some interesting fellow human beings. I have a long standing interest in Tibet and Tibetan spirituality. Recently, while riding the city bus, I talked with a Tibetan immigrant who was saying prayers while she fingered her mala (prayer beads). And, yes, she was repeated the famous mantra, "Om Mani Padme Hum." She explained to me that her sister, who had been quite ill, had recovered by praying in this way. (I realized she was Tibetan from her looks--they are, I think, a most beautiful people. Many of the faces of the immigrant women seem to be the prototypes for the ancient depictions of goddesses--perhaps the gene pool has remined much the same over the years.)
Today, (again on the bus) I spoke with an octogenarian from Kiev. (She also had attended the symphony today). A meteorologist by profession, she had flown missions with the Russian Army during WWWII so that she could get close up views of the weather in the region. She has come to San Francisco in part to get away from the lingering after effects of the Chernobyl disaster.
In the book store recently, I met a woman who had come here from Mexico as a child. She had worked most of her life in clerical positions to support her family. She loves foreign films and art films (as I do), particularly those with a social slant. She confided that her daughter was a lesbian, and that she (the mother) was a member of an organization for parents of gays and lesbians. When I told her I was also a lesbian, she was quite pleased.
When I was unable to find a seat in the museum cafeteria, a very nice couple invited me to sit with them The wife, a retired public school teacher, was--wonder of wonders--a native San Franciscan. This is primarily a city of immigrants (including Americans seeking a wider culture), so it is very unusual to meet someone born and bred here in this city. They had come for the "Arts and Crafts Exhibit" (from William Morris on) which I also wanted to see. (That is where I saw the intriguing wood sculpture of himself carved by a Japanese Buddhist monk over a century ago.) We felt especially connected because we all had come from teaching careers.
What, someone might ask, does all of this have to do with kundalini or even spirituality as such? Well, this is a time when all of us need to be more open, to come to know our sisters and brothers better that we may honor them and their life experience. We have more in common than we know. Each life story is an important chapter in our universal tale of being human. As they say, "We are all in this together," and together we will sink or swim.
