I decided to take a short break from the High Holy Days related posts in order to discuss something very dear to my heart: fellowship.
In my mind, it is such a mitzvah to engage in fellowship with the people around you. The level of intimacy will vary, of course, but in my every day life I am so struck by communalism. Often times, sitting at a coffee shop with the intention of studying will bring me into the most amazing conversations with perfect strangers.
In the last month alone I have had the pleasure of meeting and engaging with the following people:
a fellow congregant I’ve barely interacted with previously
a physics professor from India who is passionate about socialism
a group from Alcoholics Anonymous
unlikely friends discussing mystical Hinduism
a hipster chain-smoker who is obsessed with sports blogs
It’s so wild and unexpected. These are often people who I would never guess I’d interact with. Most of them seem to have so little in common with me at first glance. When I speak with and listen to these people’s stories, I am so moved and humbled by our commonalities. I am definitely a chatterbox, so it doesn’t surprise me that I would start talking to anyone, but the fact that these people reciprocate, that they are just as open to tell me about themselves as I am with them, is truly special.
As I move through my daily life, I find that I am happier and at greater peace with myself when I can stop and have even the simplest discussion with the people who pour my coffee, ring up my groceries, wait with me in line, or otherwise share my space. Brushing shoulders with people daily, we can become desensitized to the absolute miracle that is community. Our differences help keep the world textured and striking, if only we take a moment to reach out our hands and grasp it.
Many of these people have changed the way I’ve viewed essential parts of myself, and I think that is due to the intrinsic interconnectedness of us. As I’ve stated again and again, we all contain that divine spark that when combined with another’s can create a small flame of divinity.
Never discount the magic that can occur when we take the time to truly interact with each other. One of the remarkable people I’ve met recently, a young man named Jordan, described the illusion of our separateness with an analogy. Roughly paraphrased (and forgive me Jordan if you’re reading this):
The illusion of separateness can be explained by considering a movie projecting on a screen. To see a film, you have to have a blank, white, screen on which to project it. Life is the film, a series of images dancing with each other on the screen. We are neither the audience nor the film. We are in fact the screen itself, a canvas at once completely indistinguishable from the film itself. We are the film and the film is us.
I took his words to mean, that we are life and life is us. All of the banality around us, if seen from a higher consciousness is part of us; inside, beyond, and around us.
While the ancient ascetics applied hermitage and abstinence from life’s earthly bounty in attempt to find spiritual awaking, I feel like a deep and luscious caress of the world and people around you is much more effective (and pleasurable).
Not to be presumptive, but I feel like I can’t be the only one who has experienced this. What are your experiences with divine interconnectedness? What are your stories of surprising fellowship. Maybe by sharing our experiences, we can help others to gain the bravery and audacity required to chat up a perfect stranger with the explicit intent to be with them, if only for a while.
And You Shall Love 