Grace of the Goddess, Interfaith Solidarity, and True Friendships in a Pandemic
I don’t quite remember when we first heard of the coronavirus. The days, weeks, and months are merging in my head. I was reading stories about it in China and in Iran. There were cases in Seattle in the U.S. and in San Francisco. But soon it will be right here- in my hometown.
By the grace of the Goddess, we stay at home during spring break. The annual silent retreat is canceled. So I design one on my own. I unplug, disconnect, and relax. I read Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu, Pema Chodron. I slow down, take naps, and go into deep rest. I gift my spouse a hand wash as a joke for our anniversary. I realize what a privilege it is that home is a safe space for me.
The interfaith community choir that I co-founded, Brazos Valley Shanti Choir, meets on March 8th. We sing about peace, interconnectedness, and the beauty of Mother Nature. I have a hand sanitizer available next to the sign-in desk. Tea and snacks are now served in individual to-go cups. Later I would shudder when I learn that more than 70 members of a choir in Seattle test positive for coronavirus. We will not meet again in person for several months.
The first COVID-19 case is reported in mid-March. All kinds of cancelations and postponements are happening. I worry about unemployment and job loss. I ask around in online community groups about food donations. Most food pantries and blessing boxes seem to be run by churches.
I reflect on the differences between charity and solidarity. Charity is done for those we consider more needy than us. There is much stigma associated with asking for help and much pride associated with giving help. Perhaps we need to move away from donation boxes. Perhaps we need to address food insecurities through community organizing. Or maybe we do both. So I decided to do a fundraiser for the local food bank, which raises $1000.
I send reminders several times to my social media friends to take deep breaths and practice daily meditations. I decide to launch a mediated meditation series during the pandemic. Many people show up from around the world — Malaysia, Ecuador, California, Texas, and elsewhere — for the meditation sessions. From all kinds of faith backgrounds, races, and genders. This is refreshing simply because there are so few online spaces for inter-faith solidarity. Some are new to meditation while others have a steady practice. Everyone is looking for some peace and ways to cope and grieve.
I hesitate to share my mediated meditation sessions with my departmental closed Facebook group. Instead, I share a resource on mental health that also mentions the importance of meditation from a generic website. Staying “neutral” becomes a way to normalize Whiteness and Christonormativity.
I look up my notes on trauma-informed mindfulness from my yoga teacher training. I recognize that all of my scholarship — teaching, research, and community work is trauma-informed. It is about creating inclusive shared spaces for healing at the individual and collective levels. I decide it is important to have some shared agreements, clarify my intentions and methods, and create a mission statement. Here is what I write:
Mediated Meditations with Srivi is meant to be a safe, affirming, inclusive, and supportive space for creating community through meditating together. We welcome people of all faiths, nationalities, races, occupations, genders, sexual orientations, faiths, age groups, political orientations, and abilities.
Transitioning to online teaching is pretty challenging. I want to offer both synchronous and asynchronous classes since I know that many in my group are mothers with small kids. They are not able to join regularly. This first week in April I offer meditations on Pancha kosha (five layers of existence), Loving-kindness meditation, Shavasana, chakra/energy centers, and empty bowl meditations.
In early April, the federal government announces that pastors will receive funding from the government. The local government sets up a spiritual hotline but I find out that it is basically a church-based hotline. I am reminded that the “All Faiths” Chapel on campus simply meant all Christian faiths, really. I am taken back to all those moments on campus when I was gifted a note on Jesus by a student during my office hours, accosted on “military walk” on campus by someone who wanted to give me a Tamil Bible, and felt uncomfortable when two women at the campus café kept asking me personal questions in an attempt to move the conversation towards Christ.
This second week of April my meditations are on the mantra of oneness, letting go, finding our joy, yoga nidra (deep relaxation/sleep), and the third eye (on clarity and focus). They are centered in the Hindu tradition of my own South Asian heritage yet open to people from all backgrounds. I feel comfortable now to include some small chants in Sanskrit that focus on generic topics such as love, health, and happiness. Folks are doing the meditations on their own time and along with me. I feel blissful, happy, and calm.
It’s April 14th and we celebrate Tamil New Year’s Day. Instead of the bounty of fruits, jewelry, and new clothes that we display in front of the mirror to look at first thing upon waking in the morning, I showcase hand sanitizers, toilet paper, and vitamins. This week as I offer meditations on panchakosha, new beginnings, chakras/energy center, be the light, and mindfulness, I finally figure out how to work with technology to do the recordings reasonably well.
Work becomes really hectic. The online spaces and communities that I have created on social media do not feel safe any more after I get into a long conversation about the need for safe spaces for Asian-identifying students. I feel misunderstood, misrepresented, and hurt. I decide to get away from social media and coil myself into a shell. I am overwhelmed and feel unsupported.
Those of us doing emotional care work are all drained. We are working on our feet with what we have built. I wish friends would acknowledge, appreciate, and support our work. At least I wish they would not question, challenge, or hurt us or our work. I decide to conclude the daily meditation sessions.
I reflect on the meaning of true friendship during crises. Academe is a neoliberal space and filled with jealousies and competitions instead of collaborations. The good, bad, and the ugly — we see it all during a crisis. My reflections from this week center on the following points:
Crises teach us who our real friends are. True friendship means showing up, being present, seeing one another as equals, being collaborative. True friendship means mutual respect, amplifying one another’s voices, and standing up for one another. True friendship means keeping up promises, being there when most needed, and doing so in a timely manner. True friendship is about consistent solidarity rather than random acts of occasional charity.
At the end of April, I receive a request from the local immigrant inter-faith network asking to donate funds for 100 families in our community who need to pay rent and utilities. As an immigrant myself, I am feeling vulnerable as the federal government continues to enact policies that are anti-immigrant. I decide to start a second fundraiser during the pandemic. It’s an art fundraiser where we are giving away art prints of my talented child’s wild animal paintings. By next week, we would raise $1700+ from 40+ people from around the nation and dozens of art prints.
Texas lifts its shelter-in-place on May 1st, even as the number of deaths continues to increase in the state. We are the first state to reopen. I feel so exhausted that I can hardly get up from the bed. True friends and neighbors show up with food, disinfectant wipes, phone calls, and face masks this week. I struggle with emotional coping from the collective grief and immense care work. Yet I somehow gather the energy to write more letters of recommendation for my mentees and try my best to be a supportive mentor. My colleagues back me up. I get notes from strangers about the importance of my scholarship in their work. I finally feel strong and healed by love and care.
Knowing the healing power of art, I immerse myself into learning how to edit videos for YouTube. The creative process of working on this project with my teenager brings me joy even though the learning is challenging. I create my first YouTube Channel and guided meditation called “New Beginnings”. I realize the key role that the meditation sessions had played in keeping me anchored and healthy. I decide that it is time to offer guided meditations once again. But I don’t think I have the energy to offer them every day like I did in April. It has to be once a week. We start “Mediated Meditations on Mondays in May.”
As I reflect back on friendships and relationships while quarantined, I realize the interconnectedness of us all. I think about the small and big ways we can build networks of support and solidarity. I wonder how to center joy amidst pain and suffering. I recognize the many cycles of death and life while trying to live fearlessly, in the moment, with (self)compassion, and dignity.
We are one. We are complete. We are That which we seek — that peace, that love, that joy. Sat-Chit-Ananda: Truth-Wisdom-Bliss.
[ To cite this piece: Ramasubramanian, Srividya (June 12, 2020), Grace of the Goddess, interfaith solidarity, and true friendships in a pandemic. Medium. Accessible from: https://medium.com/@drsrivi/grace-of-the-goddess-interfaith-solidarity-and-true-friendships-in-a-pandemic-3a14de2f0e0]
More about Dr. Srivi Ramasubramanian at www.drsrivi.com. Follow her on twitter at Srivi Ramasubramanian and Facebook. Check out her Difficult Dialogue Project and Media Rise for meaningful media for social good.
