He confessed waking up that morning in a contemplative mood, filled with profound thoughts about meaning and purpose – rather uncharacteristic of him, he added. But these thoughts were not entirely random either. For one, he had observed his classmates devoting every waking hour to their studies, in an almost mechanistic way, without pausing to ask themselves why they were doing it. Was the lure of the job that might follow really worth all the fuss?

Life in London wasn’t as enriching as he had imagined either. Sure, it is pacey, hip and multicultural, but like most newcomers to the city – and even some who have been here for years – he had fallen prey to the paradox of big city life. That acute awareness of being surrounded by masses of people from all walks of life, yet at the same time feeling isolated and alone.

On this latter theme, we tossed some thoughts around for a while. What was it about life in the urban sprawl, or the structure of the education system, or the norms of acceptable dialogue and interaction that give rise to feeling like you may as well be the only living organism on this planet? Surely there are elements of the human condition that are being overlooked here, but what could they be? As I suggested that they might be related to conditions that uplift the human spirit, a palpable expression of acknowledgement appeared on his face, at which point the conversation somehow drifted to other themes.

Yet in my mind, the words “systematic” and “exclude” rang loud and clear, as I recalled the passage from Century of Light that seemed to encapsulate the moment :

…the pressure of a dogmatic materialism, claiming to be the voice of “science”, that seeks systematically to exclude from intellectual life all impulses arising from the spiritual level of human consciousness.

Applying this statement to most tertiary education systems, it is quite an indictment. And another passage from the Prosperity of Humankind (part of a larger critique on contemporary development theory, and well worth reading in its entirety):

For the vast majority of the world’s population, the idea that human nature has a spiritual dimension — indeed that its fundamental identity is spiritual — is a truth requiring no demonstration. It is a perception of reality that can be discovered in the earliest records of civilization and that has been cultivated for several millennia by every one of the great religious traditions of humanity’s past. Its enduring achievements in law, the fine arts, and the civilizing of human intercourse are what give substance and meaning to history. In one form or another its promptings are a daily influence in the lives of most people on earth and… the longings it awakens are both inextinguishable and incalculably potent.

These two passages, referring to the potent longings of the human spirit, help to explain why strictly rational approaches to development would alone fail to yield the inner satisfaction sought by every soul. We might imagine, for example, that putting people of different cultures within close vicinity of one another (the so-called “melting pot”) will magically lead to people holding hands and singing together.

Unfortunately, it’s not so straightforward. This year, the Scottish Interfaith Council produced a document entitled Values in Harmony, containing representations from 10 major Religion and Belief communities, including the Baha’i Faith. In it, one finds this striking quote from Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks:

Multiculturalism has run its course, and has not led to integration but segregation. It has allowed groups to live separately with no incentive to integrate…Culture is fragmenting into non-communicating systems of belief in which civil discourse ends and reasoned argument becomes impossible.

While multiculturalism has helped to weaken age-old prejudices and contributed to a greater sense that we are a single human race, I can also see where Rabbi Sacks is coming from. How will the motivation arise to genuinely reach out and integrate with other cultures, if not driven by an inner belief system that encourages it? And how nice would it be if more welcoming neighbourhood communities started to spring up across our cities as a result?

As I come full circle to my flatmate’s sentiments on that day, I am left with two conclusions:

• That at some point, every individual will experience those inner promptings that lead to the question “why?” and we can scarcely predict when that point will be.
• That to be an effective antidote to alienation in the big city, multiculturalism has to be infused with a big dose of spirit…

Photograph by Nathan Wolfe

There is a softness that often times creeps in when sitting silently. The despondent and yet comforting rain falling outside lends itself to a certain mood. OK. Take a breath. Close your eyes.

The peal of the lightning and thunder somewhere up above me keeps playing on my mind. It settles in. Happiness settles in. And yet this quiet but incessant voice speaks to me — “what do you know of hardship, of persecution, of oppression?” And then a chain reaction is set off and I ask myself — how do I even suppose to know empathy? How do we communicate happiness as an actual remedy for the harshness and brutality that we see in the world? Does a focus on happiness and contentment simply distract us from seeking and attaining justice?

Here are two ideas which help shape my next series of thoughts:

- Baha’is work for the betterment of the world, and
– The pivotal belief in the oneness of all mankind directs our efforts.

The Baha’i Faith is not simply concerned with survival, as any emerging consciousness or force in the world often has to come to terms with. Its purpose is not to generate an enclosed community composed of a core of devoted adherents. It seeks to be in constant motion, ever inviting all to participate in building the unity of the world. This sense of purpose necessarily directs a certain mindset that must not be divided.

I met a Hindu man recently who spoke of how seemingly in the West there exists this dichotomy between the heart and the mind; and that success in this plane of reality is bent upon one thing — the integration of being and doing. Then, perhaps to be content or happy does not negate striving for justice. We are not so limited in our emotional and spiritual capacity to only exist in one state at a time. The challenge is to bring a sense of unity to our efforts that spans across and enfolds all manifestations of the human experience. We must seek a mindset built upon coherence. When the fundamental ideas that act on or shape our identity presuppose each other, so that in isolation they would be meaningless, that is coherence.

When reflecting on the interaction between happiness and justice, understanding that they are interrelated and quite deeply connected is integral to their application. There are, of course, many types of happiness or things that bring us joy in this world. Our appreciation of those things is often related to our present state of orientation, and there is much in this world that makes itself available for personal pleasure. At this point, I think we have to review in what way we are defining happiness. True joy and true happiness (as described in the Baha’i Writings) is what comes from a deep and abiding sense of purpose. In fact, Baha’u’llah has defined true well being in the world as this: “Human life was created for happiness and not for sorrow”.

Happiness is in fact a spiritual concept. Abdu’l-Baha has affirmed this when he wrote that “spiritual happiness is the true basis of the life of man”. It is related to the spiritual transformation of both the individual and the collective society. It acts as a force for attraction. It is a super-sensuous phenomenon, ultimately transcending this physical reality, but nevertheless manifests itself, in its true form, as unity.

Its true aim, by serving as a foundation for a collective consciousness built upon the purpose of individual and collective spiritual development, is for the unification of mankind. Thus, it is an inherent quality in the construction and attainment of human relationships of all kinds, be they interpersonal or institutional.

When considering how one works for the betterment of the world, justice is a fixed component of that effort. Rather than seeking a utilitarian view that happiness, on a grander scale, should only be sought for the greatest number of people, we should understand justice as that which is the strongest foundation for the securing of happiness of all. Baha’u’llah has written that perhaps the primary purpose of government is that, through justice, contentment must be secured for all its citizens. He has also written that “justice is the appearance of unity amongst men.”

In this we can surmise that perhaps through the attainment of spiritual happiness, unity is born. Justice, which in one sense can be described as the application of reward and punishment and also as the power of discernment, is the indomitable tool with which we both continue our spiritual search but also safeguard our unity and happiness.

There is much that clouds our ability to attain happiness in this world — but working to cut through all that, to focus on principle, value, and the spiritual qualities inherent in everything, we can access a force and power which will help direct the rehabilitation of our surroundings.

Photo credit: Tom Dyson.

The older one gets, the more one’s own mortality becomes painfully evident.  I had a dream the other night that I was on a jet.  My sister was in the lavatory, and I was outside telling her a joke, wanting to make her laugh.

Suddenly, the plane began to plummet.  We both grew silent, on opposite sides of the door, and in my head, all I could think about was how much had been left undone.

Maybe I had that dream because recently, I’ve witnessed people around me, young and old, be afflicted with terminal illnesses.  I spent the weekend in Northern Virginia, at my pseudo-relatives’ home.  My father and another childhood friend of theirs were visiting D.C., and what was meant to be a jovial reunion weekend was tinged with a sense of how quickly life can change.

Mahin Khanum, my pseudo-uncle’s mother, had last week been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. She had been a feisty woman with a sparkle in her eye who lost her husband at a young age and, at a not-so-young age, picked up and moved from Iran to Brazil when her two sons moved there. Whereas only weeks ago she was meddling in the kitchen, piling endless tea glasses into the dishwasher and effortlessly whipping up steaming pots of Basmati rice, Mahin Khanum could now hardly speak or react, let alone bathe herself.

In a rare moment of calm at the kitchen table, which was littered with crumbs and crammed with plates of fruit and half-empty glasses of tea, Mahsheed joon, my pseudo-aunt, leaned her elbow on the table and placed her head in her hand.  “Zendegi chegadr zood migzareh,” she sighed.  “How quickly life passes by.”  Switching to English, sweetly accented with Persian and Brazilian Portuguese tones, she waved her fork in the air and said, “You are young! Enjoy your youth and don’t take so heavily what might come in the future.”

A few weeks ago, I might have dismissed that advice as frivolous.  But in the midst of another hectic workday, her words rung through my mind, and I wondered whether I was wrongly associating living a purposeful life with gravity and heaviness.  I remembered a quotation from The Secret of Divine Civilization:

It is clear that life in this fast-fading world is as fleeting and inconstant as the morning wind, and this being so, how fortunate are the great who leave a good name behind them, and the memory of a lifetime spent in the pathway of the good pleasure of God.
‘Abdu’l-Baha, Secret of Divine Civilization, page 70.

I can home tonight, and throwing myself on the couch, I picked up my weathered copy of The Secret of Divine Civilization, searching in vain for the passage.  And as I did, I flipped to the last page and stumbled upon this:

“Happy the soul that shall forget his own good, and like the chosen ones of God, vie with his fellows in service to the good of all…”
‘Abdu’l-Baha, The Secret of Divine Civilization, page 116

It seems that in the end, what everyone is seeks is a kind of happiness.  The way they go about obtaining that happiness, however, runs the spectrum of being of benefit to being harmful to others.  Some find happiness in shopping (harmless); some, in volunteer work (beneficial); and some, in vandalism (harmful).  When I think about it, I can’t help but think that some of the pursuit of happiness is linked with that nagging feeling we’re going to get old and die.

Well, we are going to get old and die.  And like that moment in my dream, many of us are terrified– not so much that it may be painful, but that we might die and regret that we didn’t live a full life.

In this ever-fragmented, ever-frantic city, these thoughts sometimes elude us.  Or sometimes, we may mistake a “full life” as being those things that, while wonderful, bring us elusive happiness.  I love Washington, with all its quirks, but sometimes it seems as if someone hit a fast-forward button and forgot to hit “pause.”  Those of us in this city sometimes live as if we’re invincible– and that when we do die, all that really matters is how many times our name appeared in print.

But I have to wonder that, when this life ends– and if you don’t believe in an afterlife, when you lie down at night and honestly assess what you’ve done and who you are– what can we say about a life in service for the good of all?  In this ever-fragmented city, it’s easy to be worn out, run ragged, pulled in many directions, and anxious about career prospects.

It was dusk on Saturday evening, the setting sun peeking through the drawn curtains.  Mahin Khanum’s granddaughter, weary-eyed from a sleepless week, grasped her grandmother’s hands in her own, swinging them and singing old Brazilian carnaval songs to her.  There, amidst the pain and exhaustion, was a token of ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s words– forgetting her own self, for the good of a loved one in the sunset of her life in this fast-fading world.

My personal take is that it is not that there is good aid or bad aid, but that the circumstances in each situation will determine if it is effective aid or not.  Throwing money at a problem will never completely solve it.  If the underlying issues are not addressed, it’s just good money and effort after bad.  And in particular so if aid agencies, humanitarian organizations and governments don’t recognize the power in grassroots communities and in each individual.  We need to harnass the potentialities latent in each member of the human race, empowering them to become a source of social good and development.

And you really don’t need to go further than the story of William Kamkwamba to see what I mean. At 14, the Malawian boy is forced to drop out of school for lack of fees.  Inspired by a book in the village library (donated by a development agency!), William decides to build a windmill in order to provide electricity for his family home.  He is undettered by the fact that he is not very educated, that he has no access to materials and parts for the windmill, or that no-one has ever done it before.  Relying mostly on the illustrations in the book, and scrounging for scrap metal and materials others have thrown away, and ignoring the ridicule aimed at him, William built a crude but effective windmill which powered four light bulbs, a radio and cellphone charger.

Since he built his first windmill, William has gone on to build five more, in and around his village.  He has been given a scholarship to the African Leadership Academy in South Africa.  He has given talks and speeches at international conferences and received worldwide acclaim.  He is working on projects dealing with HIV, malaria, solar power and clean water. And last month, at the age of 22, his autobiography “The Boy Who Harnassed the Wind” was released worldwide.

When  I read his story, and watched him speak, William humbled me, but most importanly, gave me hope.  And reminded me of the emphasis the Baha’i Faith places on the potentialities in each one of us, and of our duty to make the most of them:

Regard man as a mine rich in gems of inestimable value. Education can, alone, cause it to reveal its treasures, and enable mankind to benefit therefrom…

Is any larger bounty conceivable than this, that an individual, looking within himself, should find that by the confirming grace of God he has become the cause of peace and well-being, of happiness and advantage to his fellow men? No, by the one true God, there is no greater bliss, no more complete delight.

So, how do we approach food and nutrition from a spiritual angle?  While there is not a Bahá’í ‘diet,’ we do have some guidelines about where we – as a civilization – will be heading in the future. It’s a process, individually and collectively, of moving towards health, not just for ourselves, but for every living thing on the planet.

Listen to this excellent podcast, entitled “Nutrition from a Bahá’í Perspective: Food for the Body, Food for the Soul”, prepared by Margaret Tash.

You can view/download the transcript of this presentation here.

We all have questions about the nature of humour.  What is the ultimate form of humour? Should slapstick be banned:)? Are there universal standards of acceptable humour or is this largely bound by cultural constructs? When are we crossing the line? Is there even a line? Or is it more like a zigzag?

I don’t claim to have any answers beyond those I create for myself. As always though, we are blessed to have the Writings to help us in developing our own constructs…

Humour too, as you say, is an essential element in preserving a proper balance in this life and in our comprehension of reality.

(Shoghi Effendi)

Abandonment of “a frivolous conduct” does not imply that a Bahá’í must be sour-faced or perpetually solemn. Humour, happiness, joy are characteristics of a true Bahá’í life. Frivolity palls and eventually leads to boredom and emptiness, but true happiness and joy and humour that are parts of a balanced life that includes serious thought, compassion and humble servitude to God are characteristics that enrich life and add to its radiance.

(Shoghi Effendi)

The Universal House of Justice has requested us to acknowledge your letter of November 6, 1977 and to say that while laughter should not be suppressed or frowned upon, it should not be indulged in at the expense of the feelings of others. What one says or does in a humorous vein should not give rise to prejudice of any kind. You may recall Abdu’l-Bahá’í caution “Beware lest ye offend the feelings of anyone, or sadden the heart of any person…” (From “Tablets of Abdu’l-Bahá”, vol. I, p. 45) (1 December 1977 to an individual believer)

There is a note in Abdu’l-Bahá’s character that has not been emphasized, and with which no idea of him is complete. The impressive dignity which distinguishes his presence and bearing is occasionally lighted by a delicate and tactful humour, which is as unaffected as it is infectious and delightful.

On his last afternoon in London, a reporter called to ask him of his future plans, finding him surrounded by a number of friends who had called to bid him good-bye. When, in answer to this query, Abdu’l-Bahá told in perfect English of his intention to visit Paris and go from there to Alexandria, the press representative evinced surprise at his faultless pronunciation. Thereupon Abdu’l-Bahá proceeded to march with a free stride up and down the flower-scented drawing room, his Oriental garb contrasting strangely with his modern surroundings; and, to the amusement of the assembly, uttered a string of elaborate English words, laughingly ending, “Very difficult English words I speak!”

(Abdu’l-Bahá in London)

Bahá’í scholars, especially those who are scholars in the teachings and history of the Faith itself, would be well advised to remember that scholars have often been most wrong when they have been most certain that they were right. The virtues of moderation, humility and humour in regard to one’s own work and ideas are a potent protection against this danger.

(Bahá’í Scholarship Statements from the World Centre)

Shoghi Effendi, like his grandfather and great-grandfather before him, had a delightful sense of humour which was ready to manifest itself if he were given any chance to be happy or enjoy a little peace of mind. His eyes would fairly dance with amusement, he would chuckle delightedly and sometimes break out into open laughter. Inside his family, with those he was familiar with, he liked to tease.

(Ruhiyyih Khanum : The Guardian of the Baha’i Faith)

Finally, enjoy this comic from some talented friends of mine!

Wakili McNeill from Malcolm X Drummers and Dancers group at the 31st Adams Morgan Day Festival. (Photo Credit: Barbara Krawcowicz)

Maybe it was the graying of the skies, summer impatient to morph into fall.  A lively street festival, Adams Morgan Day, had descended upon my neighborhood on a sunny Sunday in early September– the air thick with smoke from grills sizzling with Jamaican jerk chicken, throbbing with the sound of drums from a Ghanaian dance troupe, as thick crowds of young and old and black and brown and white weaved through stalls selling scarves and jewels, and where local artists displayed their work.  The last day of summer hadn’t yet arrived, but the next morning, shuffling past sleepy cafes on the two-mile trek to work, it wasn’t raining but somehow the air felt damp, and clouds quilted the sky, making all gray and quiet.

My neighborhood is colorful and diverse in every sense, an eyeful and a story on every corner of every block.  But the part of town in which I work lacks some soul, a claustrophobic cacophony of steel and glass.  Men in black suits and ties lunch over terms like How Do We Get Our Work Onto the Agenda, and women practical heels punch at a Blackberry in right hand, cigarette in left.  Exit the polite double doors of any given office building, and one is welcomed by blaring of taxis honking, the whooshing of FedEx trucks and words, words, words about work in a language that I used to try to understand, but now seems so foreign.  There is a certain worldly power associated with this part of town– the World Bank, the IMF, the White House, the many lobbying firms and think-tanks that crowd the few blocks of downtown Washington, D.C.  And yet, I see so many blank stares, pinched faces, stressed countenances.  And many times I’ve thought: So many of them don’t seem happy.

***

I’m on a housing hunt these days.  I was barely a week back home from a trip when my roommate informed me that she was moving to a different part of town, giving me thirty days to scramble to find a place to live.  So my evenings have been packed with open houses, putting on a smile and nodding through chore expectations, and the obligatory small talk that characterizes the interview process.  And while I’d throw myself, exhausted, onto the couch in my half-empty apartment at night, I reflected on what I’d seen in the city.  The hunt took me to all corners, and while the rent was the same, the neighborhoods varied.  Rowhouses on quaint, tree-lined streets in quiet neighborhoods morphed into what some called the “rough” part of town, a fact which I conveniently hid from my parents.  My heart raced a little faster as I raced through these streets, and I wondered why the city was so fragmented.

One such neighborhood where my housing hunt has taken is the one in which I teach a children’s class.  On Saturday afternoons, with my co-teachers, we wave to neighbors as we collect the children, some of whom last week were dragging themselves to class.  I stopped by on a Wednesday evening, after looking at several homes in the children’s neighborhood.  And while I was already late for a class, I couldn’t help but linger on their street, where some of my students were teasing each other on front stoops, and scampering about the playground.  I was greeted with hugs and squeezes and laughter, as the obligatory drunken loiterers lounging in the playground muttered incoherently.  It isn’t an easy neighborhood, one where the children see and experience things that I hadn’t at their age.  And sometimes I see the struggles of immigrant families, of double-unbelonging, of making ends meet, and of the materialism so prevalent in American society pressing its finger upon their new lives in this country.  But despite the rough edges that characterize the neighborhood, I left that evening, prying the children’s arms from my waist and blowing kisses as I said goodbye, with a joy surging in my heart that I hadn’t felt for weeks.

***

And all of this– the stress of moving, the juxtaposition of materially poor and rich, and moving seamlessly between worlds seemingly apart– has made me think about happiness, a topic that has been covered in this space before.  As I mulled over this topic, I remembered a quotation by ‘Abdu’l-Baha that I’d read in The Secret of Divine Civilization:

…human happiness consists only in drawing closer to the Threshold of Almighty God, and in securing the peace and well-being of every individual member, high and low alike, of the human race; and the supreme agencies for accomplishing these two objectives are the excellent qualities with which humanity has been endowed.

‘Abdu’l-Baha, The Secret of Divine Civilization, page 60

***

To be continued in Part II.

“Kevin Locke, world-renowned Native American performer and educator, and member of the Baha’i community, has been nominated by the Native American Music Awards for Artist of the Year and Flutist of the Year.

His newest album Earth Gift, has been nominated for Record of the Year.

http://www.kevinlocke.com/nammy.html

We invite you to consider voting for Kevin. Kevin’s life work is sharing an understanding of the oneness of humanity through his music, dance, and storytelling. We are excited about this year’s nomination and the opportunity it provides to introduce more people to the message of love, unity, and oneness.

To learn how to vote, visit http://www.kevinlocke.com/nammy.html. The last day to participate is October 3, 2009.”

O Children of Men! Know ye not why We created you all from the same dust? That no one should exalt himself over the other….

Bahá’u’lláh, The Hidden Words of Bahá’u’lláh, Arabic no. 68

And among the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh is the equality of women and men. The world of humanity has two wings—one is women and the other men. Not until both wings are equally developed can the bird fly. Should one wing remain weak, flight is impossible. Not until the world of women becomes equal to the world of men in the acquisition of virtues and perfections, can success and prosperity be attained as they ought to be.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, sec. 227

I get lulled into thinking that most people think the same way, and that our systems and governments are, by-in-large, all working under the same premise. Last week I read something that reminded me that, actually, vast numbers of women are still living greatly unequal lives.  I  was reading a paper entitled “Gender vulnerabilities, shocks and social protection responses“, (produced by the Overseas Development Institute), which outlines the various impacts the recent financial and food price crises have had on women.  It was sobering reading:

• It is women who bear the brunt of the food price crisis, not only because they are primarly responsible for the management of food in the household but also because they are often the ones who buffer the impact of the crisis at the household level through decreased consumption.
• Women often become ’shock absorbers of household food security’, reducting their own consumption to allow more food for other household members.
• In Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia, the agricultural sector makes up more than 60% of all female employment.  But, women in Africa only own 1% of the land and also face biases against access to training, inputs, capital, credit and transportation.
• Rising food prices can hold important implications for the distribution of care responsiblities and time poverty.  Women’s time burdens are put under more pressure as the need for cheaper food may entail travelling further… on top of such chores such as the collection of water and firewood.  Increased demands on women’s time and energy could hold negative impacts for children’s health and schooling.  A reduction in childcare may translate into greater malnutrion and poor health affecting children’s life-long capacity, ability to learn and chances of climbing out of poverty.
• Where women have limited decision-making and bargaining power within the household over income, this often results in less expenditure on health, nutruion and education, and poorer outcomes for family members, including children.
• Women’s education and nutritional knowledge and status within the household contribute more than 50% to the reduction of child malnutrition.

It was the last two points that stood out the most for me, because the Baha’i Writings place such great emphasis on the education of women:

Furthermore, the education of woman is more necessary and important than that of man, for woman is the trainer of the child from its infancy. If she be defective and imperfect herself, the child will necessarily be deficient; therefore, imperfection of woman implies a condition of imperfection in all mankind, for it is the mother who rears, nurtures and guides the growth of the child.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá, A Compilation on Women, page17

The education of women has far reaching consequences, beyond that of the strength and well-being of the family unit. For only once humanity recognizes the necessity of ensuring the equality of men and women will we be able to attain world peace:

The emancipation of women, the achievement of full equality between the sexes, is one of the most important, though less acknowledged prerequisites of peace. … Only as women are welcomed into full partnership in all fields of human endeavour will the moral and psychological climate be created in which international peace can emerge.

The Universal House of Justice, The Pomise of World Peace