Good Life Project - Simran Jeet Singh | On Bringing Us Back Together

Episode Date: August 22, 2022

We’ve all been othered, felt like we didn’t belong, at some point or moment in our lives. It feels awful. But, what happens when that experience rises to a level and pervasiveness of such intensity that it’s not just about feeling unwelcome, it’s about fearing for your life? And the lives of others you care about? Whether drawn from what we look like, what or who we worship, our values, beliefs, or any other identifier, that fear of being othered because of something that defines us can cause so much suffering. And at times, anger, even rage. It’s understandable. Question is, it is the answer? The way forward? Or, is there a different, more expansive, empathy-centered path? And if so, what does that look like, and it is really a genuine option, given the world we currently live in?These are the questions and ideas today's guest, Simran Jeet Singh, has been grappling with. In today's conversation, we take a deep dive into his experiences growing up, becoming a visible advocate for not only his own cultural and spiritual traditions but also a different approach to bridge-building. In his new book, The Light We Give: How Sikh Wisdom Can Transform Your Life, he shares his complex, fresh perspective on how empathy and traditions come into play to help us embrace each other's differences, find contentment, and discover our universal connectedness. And, in our conversation today, he offers a framework, a different approach, designed to let us to see each other’s humanity more clearly and, hopefully, create a better and more equal world for ourselves and whoever comes after us. You can find Simran at: Website | InstagramIf you LOVED this episode you’ll also love the conversations we had with Valarie Kaur about advocacy, spirituality, and love.Check out our offerings & partners: My New Book SparkedMy New Podcast SPARKEDVisit Our Sponsor Page For a Complete List of Vanity URLs & Discount Codes.ClickUp: One app to replace them all. · Simplify work and get more done. All of your work in one place: Tasks, Docs, Chat, Goals, & more. Use code GOODLIFE to get 15% off ClickUp's massive Unlimited Plan for a year—meaning you can start reclaiming your time for under $5 a month. Sign up today at ClickUp.com and use code GOODLIFE.Talkspace: Online Counseling Via Text, Audio, Or Video Messaging. At Any Time, From Anywhere. We’re here to continue supporting all the amazing parents out there, so as a listener, you’ll get $100 off of your first month with Talkspace when you use the code GOOD. To match with a licensed therapist today, go to Talkspace.com.  Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

My ability to see my own imperfections is going to help me see the humanity in your imperfections. And it doesn't mean we're best friends, and it doesn't mean that I condone what you do, but it really does mean that I can see you for who you are. And that way of seeing one another, I think, is completely different from where we are as a culture today. And I think that's where we need to go. We've all been and felt othered at some point in our lives. It feels awful. But what happens when that experience rises to a level and pervasiveness of such intensity that it's not just about feeling unwelcome. It's about fearing for your life and the lives of others you care about. Whether drawn from what we look like,

what or who we worship, our values, beliefs, or any other identifier, that fear of being othered on an extreme level because of something that defines us can lead to so much suffering and at times translate to anger, even rage, and it's understandable. Question is, is it the answer, the way forward, or is there a different, more expansive empathy-centered path? And if so, what does that look like? And is it really a genuine option given the world we currently live in? These are the questions and ideas today's guest, Simran Jeet Singh, have been grappling with. Simran is the executive director for the Aspen Institute's Religion and Society Program, and a visiting professor of history and religion at the Union Theological Seminary. He's a Soros Equality Fellow with the Open Society Foundations, and in 2020, Time Magazine recognized him among 16 people

fighting for a more equal America. He's a columnist for the Religion News Service, and his work has appeared in the New York Times, Washington Post, and more. In today's conversation, we take a deep dive into his experiences growing up, becoming a visible advocate, not only for his own culture and spiritual traditions, but also a different approach to bridge building. In his new book, The Light We Give, How Sick Wisdom Can Transform Your Life, he shares his complex, fresh perspective on how empathy and tradition come into play to help us embrace each other's differences, find contentment, and discover our universal connectedness. And in our conversation today, he offers a framework,

a different approach designed to let us see each other's humanity more clearly and hopefully create a better and more equal world for ourselves and whoever comes after us. So excited to share this conversation with you. I'm Jonathan Fields, and this is Good Life Project. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping.

And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series 10. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS are later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised.

The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were going to be fun. On January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot him, we need him. Y'all need a pilot. Flight risk.

One of my earliest introductions to Sikh traditions and faith was actually a friend of mine who years ago, it's interesting, is a white guy from middle America who had really embraced the ideas of the traditions and then wanted to bring it into a business philosophy of how to actually interact in the world in the domain of business. At least some interesting conversations around it. And then more recently, my exposure to the work of Valerie Kaur,

who's been a previous guest on the show, and her stories really opened my eyes, not just to more of the real stories. It gave me a different perspective on some of the major moments and major tragedies that have happened in this country. I know your folks are first-generation immigrants. You were brought up in San Antonio, Texas. And one of it sounds like not too many, if any, other families in this town who looked like you, who believed like you.

And on the one hand, you found ways around that. But on the other hand, it also, it caused friction. It caused issues. It could cause a certain amount of angst in your life. Oh yeah, absolutely. I mean, it was very much as you describe it, we thought of ourselves as normal kids and we did all the, all the normal things that our friends did. And mostly, mostly sports. I have three brothers, we're all close in age. My primary experience of the world growing up was, um, you go to school, you come home, you play basketball with your friends, you play soccer with your neighbors. We, our backyard was the soccer backyard. Our next door neighbors was the basketball back. I mean, we were, we were always playing, you know, the thing about sports is it's in many ways, it's, it's an,

it's an equalizing force, right? It doesn't really matter how you look or where you come from. If you can play, that's all that people care about age, it was clear to us that the experience of being visibly different was not normal. And that, you know, when people came to ask us why we look the way we do or why we wear something on our head or where we come from or what language we're speaking, there were so many aspects of our experiences that were, I mean, more than anything, just a reminder to us that we were different from, from most of the people around us and they saw it and they noticed it. And, and, and we were never sure if that would be something that we could overcome. Maybe it is one way of looking at it, but even, even if we move it, move away from the language of overcoming, if there was a possible way of ever being perceived as quote unquote

normal, right? Which is if you think about kids, like that's all you really want as a kid is to fit in. So it was really challenging in some ways. Yeah. I mean, I can imagine, you know, because it's sort of like as an adult at some point, hopefully we all reach a moment where we kind of see the things that make us different as good things, as things to embrace. But as kids, yeah, all we want to do is not be that person who stands out. And when, I mean, literally everything about you speaks to being different. It's got to be such an interesting thing to grapple with as a kid. I'm curious whether that shows up for you. I know you've talked about and you've written about how this would show up on a fairly regular basis as people saying all sorts of things.

Did you have a sense of beyond dealing with that, with sort of like the emotional side of it, with the verbal side of it, of confronting your safety, your actual physical safety at an early age? Oh, yeah. Yeah, absolutely. And I think, you know, this is something that everyone who lives on the margins of society learns to deal with on a day-to-day basis, right? Like whether you are a woman or you are black or you wear a turban, I mean, you have to become aware of the risks to your being. And in some ways you might think of it as an unnecessary burden that we carry. And I think it is, right? It's unnecessary and it is a burden, but it's not necessarily something you notice that you're carrying all the time, right? You sort of, you normalize it and it becomes part of your being.

And it's only in moments where you find yourself in situations where you feel fully safe and that you let your guard down and you let go of that load. And all of a sudden you feel this freedom. And I mean, I've had those moments and it's incredibly, I mean, it's hard to describe what that feeling is like when you carry this load all the time. But in those few moments where I felt safe and free and comfortable to let go, yeah, liberation is the only way to describe it. You just feel like you can fully be yourself. And, you know, I'll also say for a long time, I was actually pretty proud of what I would call my sixth sense or my radar. And I would tell my friends about it and

be like, Hey, I, I need to get out of here. I can tell this isn't great. And they wouldn't know. And then something would happen. And like, I'd be like, ha ha, look at me. Like, I'm so great that I know this. And now, now I'm raising these two daughters, these, I mean, they're young. I'm like, man, what would life be like if I didn't have to look at the world through that lens? And I didn't have to constantly think about being vigilant and safe and raising them in a world where they didn't have to worry about their own safety at safe and raising them in a world where they didn't have to worry about their own safety at all times. So anyway, it's just this interesting experience where sometimes the things you think are really benefiting you are actually not

necessarily making you the person you want to be in the world. Yeah, that's such an interesting frame, right? As a kid, you almost frame it as this superpower, this ability to sense when there's something going on that you might need to respond to. But also what you're describing, it's almost like having to be in a state of semi-persistence, even if it's low-grade vigilance, literally most of the time you step out the door. Not realizing the effect that it has on you until you have those passing moments where you feel entirely safe and you don't have to feel that. And then it's all of a sudden like, oh, this is what it feels like to feel genuinely at peace. As you're sharing that, what came into my mind was interestingly, this correlation with depression. Folks who live with a sense

of persistent depression where it just be, especially that is long lingering in their lives. I've had conversations with who shared, you know, like they kind of learned how to cope to semi-compartmentalized to get through the days and sometimes for months or years. And they didn't realize how much, you know, really what was it taking from their humanity until they had something that was able to release them from it for a moment or a season. And they realized, oh, this is how it could be, you know, which often plants the seed of, is it possible to actually live in this space as a persistent basis rather than hypervigilance

or, you know, like not feeling like this on a persistent basis? And if so, what would it take? Yeah. Yeah. You know, I love that. And I think, you know, as sad as it is that that's the reality of our lives, I think there's also something really instructive about the experience because I would say that in learning to deal with the racism that came my way because of how I look with my turban and my beard and my brown skin, I also learned that there was another way of living and that we have choices that we can make constantly about how we choose to live in this world. And to your point about those people who experience persistent depression and find singular moments of happiness, I think to a degree, we're all like that, right? We all

have these fleeting moments where we are pleased with our lives and happy with what we have. And, you know, it could be in relationships of love, or it could be in our day-to-day experiences, but like the desire to make that a more constant part of our experience in this world. I mean, we all have that. And the challenge for us is the same challenge that we're sort of describing in our experiences and in our research, right? We all want to find ways to sustain that in ways that sustain us, that nourish us. And we don't have to limit them to these fleeting moments where, you know, I'm on a soccer field and I'm not feeling so worried

about people attacking me and I can feel free, right? Like that's different. You're talking about people suffering from persistent depression and there are escapes that they have very momentary. I mean, it doesn't have to be like that. There are ways in which I think we can channel more goodness and happiness in our lives in ways that are there constantly. And that's what I'm pursuing right now. Which is fascinating. And of course, as much as I bring up that analogy, there are also very clear and obvious differences. It's interesting because you describe your family culture when you're a kid as your parents being very aware of the fact that you and your brothers would be harassed on a fairly regular basis. And their lens, their philosophy was sort of to say,

and you know, let it go to be the quote, bigger person. You describe it as saying, you know, like it doesn't mean that your parents were passive. It means that when it came to their kids' safety, they were risk averse, you know? So it had to have been such an interesting thing to sort of like be feeling this. And at the same time, having your parents offer like a particular lens on the way to be in response to that. Yeah. I mean, it was, it was very interesting. I mean, think about it for a second. You have four young boys growing up in Texas with turbines, getting harassed in different contexts. Sometimes it was physical and you know, what do you expect a teenage boy to do in response? You fight back. And again, this experience of what was very normal for us. You react in the way that you react. You fight. I the psychology then was even when my instinct was to fight back, including people I didn't know and people I did know, people who said nasty things to

me and friends who I was close to. Even in those moments when I fought back, I knew in my heart that I never walked away feeling good about it, right? There was this temporary release of like, I'm going to stand up for myself and I'm going to be masculine and I'm going to prove to everybody watching that, you know, you shouldn't mess with me. But inside, I still felt this conflict of doesn't feel right. I'm not walking away feeling like I fixed anything. I just released or vented or whatever it is. And so my parents wisdom was don't do that. And that annoyed me even more and made me want to fight even more, right? Like 13 year old kid, like, of course, that's what I want to do. And now I look at it and say, well, this was not just an ethical suggestion that they were offering me. There was also a strategy to it. And the strategy was, hey, if you escalate in these situations, you never know what's going to happen. You know, what we're in Texas, you know, who knows what people are carrying.

If there are guns involved, like just don't take that risk when you're already so vulnerable. And I get that now, but I didn't, I didn't get it then, but yeah, the, the, the nonviolent response, at least in these moments, it didn't jive with me from a young age. You know, it's interesting how also I know you shared, like you're a dad, I know you have daughters. I'm a father of a daughter also. And I think that experience often really changes the way that we frame our own history and our own teachings from our parents when we look back in hindsight. And for years, I always, I think we've all heard that thing, like what is, ask a parent what they want for their kid.

And most will say, I want them to be happy. But before that, we want them to be safe. I think that's the biggest fear of a parent is that our kid won't be safe. That actually takes precedence to everything else, I think, when we're looking at them. And then at some point, we reach a moment or an age a season of re-examining what we've been taught and then saying, what do we want to elevate as the things that determine our behavior? And I know for you in no small part, 9-11 was a moment, and this is a conversation I had with Valerie Cora as well, where it was interesting for me. I was in New York City. I spent my entire life in New York City until fairly recently. So I was there when that happened and thought about

the frame of the six months after 9-11 as this moment of profound sorrow, but also profound brotherhood and sisterhood and fellowship. And everybody's just trying to see and acknowledge and help and lift other people up. And what I wasn't aware of until many years later was that that was my experience as a middle-aged white person living in New York City. It was not the experience of all people, not just in New York City, but in the country after that. People who didn't look like me or believe like me had radically different experiences. This is true about life, right? We all have our own experiences and we are egocentric as human beings. And so we see the world from our

own lenses and that's how we're wired. And it makes sense. And it can be really challenging, especially in moments of difficulty to see that other people have their own difficulties too, right? Like during the pandemic, as an example, so many of us got wrapped up in our own anxieties and challenges. And of course that's understandable. And when we do that, we lose sight of what other people go through. And so I appreciate that perspective because I think it's increasingly important for us to take a moment in moments of difficulty to learn about what other people are dealing with and going through and find ways to connect with them in those moments. And I'll say for me and my family

in the wake of 9-11, by virtue of how we look and as aspects of our Sikh identity, we very much fit the profile of what Americans thought to be the enemy. We bore the brunt of hate, especially in South Texas. And part of what I've learned over the years is it's not that it was just us. It was anybody who looked like the enemy. And this sort of was obvious to me as a kid. I was 18. I was sort of coming to my own formation intellectually and socially and culturally. And I saw how my family and my community was being racialized. And I didn't fully understand the why or the what. I just knew that we were in trouble. It sort of shifted me into a new mode of thinking that I think was somewhat instinctive. It became very clear to me

that if we wanted to survive in this country, we had to do more than ignoring the racism that came our way, that we had to be proactive, that we had to go out and meet people where they were. And it really changed my philosophy in how I wanted to live my life in this country. Up until that point, it very much felt like I could ignore the hatred. I could just get out and play my sports and live my life and be happy. And that's still important to me. But the ignoring part really meant that it wasn't just my own happiness that was being compromised.

It was my family's. It was my family's, it was my community's. And if I really cared about what I wanted for myself and for my community in this country, then I had to play an active role in shaping that. And that put me on an entirely new trajectory and brought to me a different kind of way of engaging. Yeah. And at the same time, I'm curious as you're forming your own thought process about how to respond to this moment and re-examining what had been shared with you as the culture of turn the cheek, be the bigger person. And you saying, okay, so this is actually not working for me and I don't think it's

working for society. How do I step into this moment and everything I've been through differently? Was there a sense of you saying, looking at and questioning its validity? Or was it more like, okay, so I see the truth in it, I see the value in it, but I need to understand how to make it mine? It's a good question. I have to think for a moment because I haven't really thought about this particular question before. I mean, if I'm being honest, I would say that in my heart, and I think this is true for all of us, we all know that there are gaps between what we believe and what we do and that we're not fully authentic, right? We're all hypocritical to some degree. And it could be, you know, I should work out today and then I don't because I'm being lazy or I shouldn't eat this burger. I should eat a salad instead.

Like we all have our own sorts of experiences with this. And I think as an 18 year old, I was self-aware enough to know what I believed would create justice in our world. Like I had my own theory of change, but I think I, for whatever reason, and I think I had a bunch of excuses for this too, right? Like I'm too young or I don't have enough of a platform or what difference can I make? Up until that point, I had sort of told myself it was okay to not care and to not engage. And I think what really happened in the wake of 9-11 was in some ways it activated me. Like it put me in a place where I had to say, okay, enough of the excuses. Do what you think needs to happen.

And so I don't think it was necessarily a shift in worldview. I don't think there was a questioning of what I had been taught or what I believed. It was more like, it was almost like a slap in the face. Like, Hey, wake up. If you're not moving and doing stuff, like you're in trouble. And I think that was probably the big, the big shift for me in that moment. The Apple watch series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever,

making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series 10. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required,

charge time and actual results will vary. Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised. The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were gonna be fun. January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg.

You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot him. We need him. Y'all need a pilot. Flight risk. You know, around the same time, so you were 18, about to head off to college, you end up actually at Trinity U, D3 soccer.

You were a big soccer person. But you also describe how when you're there, and maybe this is part of the same sort of evolutionary or peeling the personal belief and identity onion process. It sounds like to a certain extent, you dismissed the Sikhi teachings and the faith and saw them as outdated, out of touch. But it sounds like that also, it didn't take long for you to come full circle and come back to them and say, no, actually the fundamental principles are still valid. I just need to step into them differently. I mean, from the outside looking in, that was the experience of me sort of like hearing you describe the process. I'm curious whether

from the inside out, that's what was actually going on. Yeah. Yeah. I mean, it's absolutely right. Like, I grew up in a Sikh family. I practiced its teachings. I learned them from my parents and from teachers when I was a kid. You know, it's not that I rejected the teachings. It's not that I didn't find them to be meaningful. I guess the point for me was up until that moment in my life, I didn't really see the value. Like I didn't see how this 500 year old religion, which is relatively young in the scheme of things, but still 500 years old, these people lived in a place far away from where I lived in a time far in the past. And I was just like, what relevance does this have to my life? And it's not like I was abandoning the religion, but I didn't really see what it was doing for me in a day-to-day way. And so it's, I guess one way of saying it is, and this is probably the experience of a lot of people in this country who are growing up and thinking about their own relationship to religion and faith and spirituality. It was fine. It was interesting. It was, it was part of who I

was. And at the same time, I wasn't, you know, about to kill myself over it. Like I wasn't that interested. I wasn't that committed to it. And what shifted in the nine 11 moment, you know, I'm coming of age, I'm in college at the time. Now I really start asking myself this question of why am I willing to put myself at risk for something that I care about, but does it really matter to me so much that it's worth it? And it was in that process of introspection, you know, studying my own faith, studying other religions, really deepening my understanding created a much deeper appreciation for some of its wisdom. And I came to recognize that so much of the suffering that we experience in this world

could be resolved with some simple, practical wisdom that I could draw from my tradition. And so for me, that was really where I started to cherish what I had been given and in some ways had been with me all along, but I wasn't really looking for it. And so I wasn intentionally, aggressively seeking it. There's something that feels often more magical slash powerful about it. It's interesting also, because you go from there to like you go and you want to deepen into this. So you end up in Harvard and grad school pursuing your master's, but you get to Harvard and you learn that actually, you know, your intention or your desire to really deepen into the faith and the history and the tradition, the ideals, it's actually not offered there. You're sort of like, why don't we take a step to the left and study this or to the right

and study this? And you offer this really interesting question, like, what does it mean to be so marginalized that one remains outside the archive? That had to have been an incredibly frustrating moment, but also illuminating in interesting ways. I mean, it was incredibly frustrating. Here I was coming to the world's greatest university that had anything and everything to offer.

And I came to learn that actually of the few things it doesn't have available, it's the study of my own tradition, which happens to be be by the way, the world's fifth largest. So it's not like this is a random niche thing in a random niche dream. It seemed like a very reasonable expectation. And also that experience of it not being available at Harvard aligned with my lived experience to that time, right? Like from childhood, it was very clear to me that no one knew who we were or what we were about. My parents had the same experience when they came to this country. My father was confused for Khomeini because that was during the Iran hostage crisis, right? Like people really had no idea who he was. Then he became Saddam,

right? When we were growing up, we were bin Laden and then ISIS. I mean, it just evolves on the basis of people's ignorance. Like they really just don't know who we are. And a recent study from Stanford found that 70% of Americans can't identify as Sikh while looking at one. So being on the margins of the margins in this country is not new for us. Even where we come from in Punjab, in South Asia, that's also true. And so the experience of being left out, of being excluded, of being overlooked is not new for us. But there are moments, at least for me in my life, where that feeling of being excluded is really sharp, right? Like in some ways you normalize it, but then when you normalize it and you've developed a thick skin and you're not so bothered by the moments where you are excluded because you say, well, that's fine. That's how

my life is. And then there are those certain moments like this moment at Harvard and others that I've had where you're like, oh my God, even here, even in this context, where can I live? Where do I belong? And that experience sometimes hits really hard because it can be really heavy when you're just on the edges at all times. That phrase, when you're just on the edges at all times, given what you shared, it's actually the fifth largest tradition in the world. It's almost unimaginable to hold those ideas sort of simultaneously. And yet it seems like this is what you bump up against on a regular basis. I know

not long after there was another powerful moment of inflection for you, which was an attack that happened in Wisconsin. And it sounds like that was something that activated you in a different way than you had been activated before that. Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I shared in the book that up until this point, I had remained pretty private. I had my experiences. I had my own views on how to create safety for our community, how to create more visibility and awareness. And I'd been working on those. At this point, I was doing my PhD in religion at Columbia and was pretty happy with my path towards becoming a historian and helping to create a larger narrative of who we were and what we were up to. And in some ways, I always had this justice orientation. And maybe this is a mirror for

when I was younger. I haven't thought about it this way. But maybe it was a mirror for when I was 18 and 9-11 happened. And I knew in my heart what I was supposed to be doing and just needed the kick in the pants to get me there. And in some ways, maybe this is similar, right? Like I'm in the ivory tower. I'm in the academy. I'm planning to write books that would help create history. But it was sort of a vision of remaining behind the scenes. I didn't want to be out in the academy. I'm planning to write books that would help create history, but it was sort of a vision of remaining behind the scenes. I didn't want to be out in the public. I was uncomfortable with the very notion of speaking in public. And then I come to learn of this massacre in Wisconsin and I see my own community again, working to be known, working to be seen, working to be accurately represented.

And it just sort of clicked for me that with the platform that I had developed, right, as a credentialed scholar at one of the top universities, like my voice could actually make a contribution. And, you know, there's always some discomfort with that kind of realization, at least for folks who are racialized and gendered and so on, right? Like, who am I? Why does my voice matter? Should I be calling attention to my perspectives or should I be directing it elsewhere, right? Like all of these were real questions for me. But what wasn't a question was recognizing our community's need for appropriate and authentic representation in the mainstream consciousness of American society. That's what really activated me to start engaging with the

public in a way that, again, I was still very uncomfortable. I didn't want to do it, but I sort of saw the need of the community and the access that I had because of my training and said, okay, it's time for me to step up and start speaking out. And so I did, and hopefully it helped. And what I found along the way was that there are ways of doing this work that still maintain the spirit of selflessness and service. And, you know, I had always seen those two things at tension with one another. And to some degrees they may still be, but figuring out the right balance of I'm going to do this for others and not for myself and do it in ways that, that really help advance what we need as a community.

Like that's, that's sort of been the approach that I've taken in my work. I'm wondering at what point along the way also do you become a father? Because had you already had your first or both girls at that point, or was it not yet? Not yet. Yeah, I was still on my own. So you're sort of make this decision to be more forward facing and have a stronger voice of advocacy. And when you do that, by the way, the world responds in a powerful way.

You get a lot of attention pretty quickly. So it's almost like you're vaulted into the public in a fairly jarring way, which on the one hand has the opportunities of actually sharing ideas and opening up conversations. But at the same time, personally, you also have to be ready for that. And if safety is sort of like this perpetual, you know, subscript that's running in the background, I have to imagine that part of that subscript is, you know, the more exposed I am, the bigger the risk of harm there is. I wonder if that was a part at all of your thought process and saying, I need to step forward and play a more public role in this conversation? There are a few ways of answering that question. And one is

part of my reluctance to speak publicly even prior to the massacre was a heightened sense of self-consciousness that I think in some ways was protective and maybe to a degree where it didn't need to be, right? Like maybe I overdid it. And I think in retrospect, I probably was overly conscious, overly critical of what might be, but it absolutely was this feeling of, well, what happens when I go out there and I mess up and someone like me, someone who looks like me messes up, like the stakes are a lot higher. And so there was a solid sense of self-preservation and protectiveness there. But I would say that, you know, to your point about safety, the conversation totally shifted once I became more involved in public facing community issues. And, you know, the attacks came more swiftly than I expected. They came more heavily than I expected, you know, death threats and stuff in

the mail and people asking for me to be removed from my job. I mean, it was pretty steady, but it was a lot harder than I initially expected. And, you know, the conversation with my wife, who I was married to at the time, and we're still married. But when I first started on this journey in a serious way, we would talk often about the risk calculation and how do you think about safety and what are you willing to potentially sacrifice? Like those were real conversations for us. And I would say that the calculus on that really shifted when our kids were born. You know, up until they were born, my wife and I, she's a human rights physician. She was pretty open to any and every risk that we wanted to take. I mean, she takes many of her own in her own work. And our approach was, if this is service, we just do what's right by the people we're serving. And whatever happens is fine. And that was very much an orientation. Then the kids are born

and everything changes. And we say, you know, risk calculation is very different. What we're willing to take on is actually quite different. And probably what's most different is our approach. You know, there are some different decisions that we make in terms of what we're willing to take on, but they're also more importantly than that different protocols we've set up to ensure that we're minimizing whatever risks we can, whether physically, socially, with online presence and so on. And so that's been a really heavy investment for our family to ensure that while we continue to do the work that we care most about, that we're also trying to protect ourselves and especially our kids. Yeah. I mean, you know, all of a sudden it's, it's not just about you, whatever we do or don't do or say or don't say has a secondary effect on the mindset, the health, the emotional and physical wellbeing of our kids. And it does, you know, like we'd like to think that

our morals are the same, our values are the same, we live by the same ethos. And we may in fact do that. And yet the calculation changes, like the way that we actually, you know, like factor in the different elements changes in a way that I think changes our decisions and how could it not. But I often wonder whether that creates a secondary tension that says, oh, am I actually stepping away from my values? Am I not doing the things that I feel in my heart I quote I think this is true for a lot of people who truly care, the aspiration is to love unconditionally. You want to have no focus on the negative consequences because you just want to do right by the people you're serving. And the challenge is, how do you strike the right balance so that you ensure that you can be there in service for a long time. And in some moments, it really does feel like you're compromising to ensure that, you know, you're not putting people you love at risk. And so it does feel really uncomfortable a lot of times. And people might, people do call you out on that, right? Like people might say that in certain moments I've sold out or

that I haven't lived by my values. And then the challenge is there are like, life is a lot more complex than a simple calculation that's perceived on the surface, right? We're all carrying many different aspects of our experience at the same time. And to be mindful of that and give yourself a little bit of grace and to ensure that, you know, what's in your heart in these moments is rightful, as they say in the Buddhist tradition. I think that's, to me, at least the saving grace in this challenging kind of space. I think it's such an important point, right?

I think there's such a rush to the binary, you know, like to not seeing shades of complexity, you know, to try and just saying, okay, like there's right and there's wrong and it's clear and universal for everyone. And, you know, there are only like these three to five factors that should be considered and weighted in this particular way for every person in every circumstance and every context. And we have such a tendency, I think, to overlay the way that we see decision-making or whatever our moral fiber or fabric or background was in our lives, to overlay that on everybody else and proclaim them either righteous or not based on that. And I think that alone, that impulse in us causes so much harm. It's interesting because one of your responses was also, and you write about this

in an almost unfathomable way, you write, I've grown a lot the past few years, particularly through embracing a painstaking personal change, endeavoring to see the humanity in a white supremacist who hatefully massacred members of my community as they prayed not to forgive him for what he did and not to forget what he did, but to see his humanity in spite of what he did. Which is interesting because when people think about advocacy and activism, we think about this action, which is rooted in us versus them in some way, shape, or form. And part of your version of advocacy, not just of human rights, but of also expressing your traditions, your wisdom through the lens

of advocacy is stepping into this space of challenging yourself to see the humanity in others who have caused very real, devastating harm to your community, which has got to be just a brutally hard thing to do. And yet it's also so fundamental to the Sikh tradition. Yeah. I mean, it's fundamental to the Sikh tradition. And I think there's an important contribution here for everyone. And that is, it's so easy to point our fingers at the problems elsewhere. And we do it constantly and we've gotten pretty good at it. And the challenge is the world isn't getting better. And so what does it take for us to really create the kind of change in the world that

we want to see? And I think part of it is to do the more difficult side of the work, which is to look within and to recognize where we personally are coming up short and how we can improve. And some might call this self-help or self-transformation. Some might call it spirituality, religious practice. I mean, whatever you call it and however you approach it, I mean, that doesn't matter so much to me. I think what's really important is that we develop an ethos and a practice of engaging ourselves and creating the kind of world that we want to see within ourselves. And, you know, it sounds in some ways I'm saying it out loud and

I'm kind of cringing because it sounds very cliche, but here's the thing that I think is really powerful about this. It's very common for us as a society to see the problems around us and to point them out, to sort of criticize and to say, hey, everyone else should be better. But I think, you know, for me as someone who's looking for happiness in my life and in my own kid's life, like that's not it. Like the problems will always be there. They have always been there. And I think part of the approach that I found is if we can have enough humility in ourselves to say, people are imperfect, I'm imperfect, but we're doing our best,

right? We set a different bar for ourselves, a different goal. And that is not, we're looking for perfection in ourselves and in one another, but we're really just trying to do our best. And that I think is what enabled me to see someone who hated us, right? This white supremacist who massacred us and to say, Hey, my ability to see my own imperfections is going to help me see the humanity in your imperfections. And it doesn't mean we're best friends and it doesn't mean that I condone what you do, but it really does mean that I can see you for who you are. And that way of seeing one another, I think is completely different from where we are as a culture today. And I think that's where we need to go.

Yeah. I mean, it speaks to a principle that you describe as a Sikh teaching. Tell me, I may be completely mispronouncing this, chardikala or everlasting optimism, sort of like always moving towards trying to see people and the world that way, which on the one hand sounds powerful and sounds beautiful and blended with some of the other ideals of connectedness and understanding a sense of oneness and that we are all interconnected. On the one hand, you look at this and say, these are deeply powerful. And if we could actually exist this way, if we could, how would the world change? And on the other hand,

you almost look at it and say, well, where's the line between these ideas, which like you said, are also related in no small way to sort of like broader ideas of personal development and self-help. And this other phrase, which I think we're hearing increasingly in popular conversation, which is spiritual bypassing. You know, so it's so interesting to me to look at a tradition and see like, these are fundamentally rooted principles in a tradition and they ring true to me and they've rung true to millions of people. Where's the line between embracing those, doing the work to personally see the world

in this way with the intention that if we could all step into this state, there would be a level of self-transformation that leads to societal transformation. And this other notion of bypassing, of just sort of like opting out of participating in the bigger action, taking the bigger conversation. I'm sure you've sort of like opting out of participating in the bigger action taking the bigger conversation. I'm sure you've sort of like you've explored these ideas. I'm curious what the conversation in sort of in your head is around these. Yeah, I love I love that you brought this up because it is something I think about a lot, especially as I deal with young people around the country who are increasingly being

more innovative with how they engage with different religious and spiritual traditions. And spiritual bypassing seems to be an increasingly important issue that they are struggling with. And, you know, to me, I see the challenge. I see people struggling with it. And I think sometimes the answers to these complicated questions are actually much more simple than they might seem on the surface. And to me, it is really recognizing the simple truth of the human experience, which is there are no shortcuts. There's no magical formula.

Every aspect of our character, every fiber of our ethical fortitude is something that we create ourselves. And it only happens through practice. And so this point about rooting ourselves, I mean, I think you can root yourself in all sorts of different traditions or points of view even. I think there are ways to really deepen yourself and your understanding and really reach yourself in different ways of thinking. But back to this point about me being an 18-year-old or to me witnessing the massacre and realizing this gap between what I thought and what I did, right? Like until you actually put into practice what it is that you are announcing and really, really live into it. I mean, who cares? It doesn't change you. It doesn't change

the world. It doesn't matter, right? Like you can say whatever you want and nothing happens. And so to me, spiritual bypassing is, I mean, in one way, the antidote to it is to simply say, okay, do it, like put it into practice. And one of the points I make in the book is, you know, we all say fake it till you make it. But when you're sincerely practicing something like that's not fake, right? That's cultivating something real. And I have come to sincerely believe that. I wonder if it also brings into the conversation, this idea that you bring up around the notion between, I think you describe it as direct versus indirect service. So part of the concept is the concept of service to something beyond yourself, to someone beyond yourself, to a larger community. And how do you take these ideals and be of service so it's not entirely about you? And I think this also speaks to this idea of direct versus indirect service.

There are those who will go out and be strongly forward-facing and activist and very action-oriented. There are those who will think and create and write and guide from behind the scenes. I'm reflecting on a conversation we had recently with Parker Palmer, who actually started very much as an on the street, local organizer out there and realized after a number of years that in fact, he wanted to be of service. He wanted to support ideas and communities, but the way that he was doing it was destroying him physically and emotionally. So he retreated to a Quaker retreat, which then ended up becoming this many, many years long thing and realized in the process that his way needed to be different, that for him to be able to sustain himself in his own personal beliefs and practices and values and also strongly advocate and support it, he needed to do it

indirectly as a writer and a thinker and a philosopher. And it's an interesting distinction to sort of say, there's not only one way to do this thing, but we have to find the way that is right and sustainable for us. That also takes a level of humility, right? The ability to hold multiple truths that my path is different from your path and I'm not right and you're not wrong. That's humility, right? It takes a different kind of perspective than what we're used to in the ways that we've been socialized. And I think also, you know, at least for me, recognizing even within ourselves that our own paths evolve and we don't have to look back and say, oh, that was wrong or what else is wrong. I mean, there really is so much room for growth in this world and change in this world. And

one of the challenges I have felt personally to your point about these different ways of serving is that we all create different kinds of hierarchies in terms of what's better and what's worse, right? I might look at a philanthropist and say, well, you're creating the problem and then you're trying to solve it. And like, that's not good. But there are plenty of people who are philanthropists who are doing incredible work and who are giving of themselves and of their, what they have in ways that are making a huge difference. And so there's some bias that we need to address and that I've needed to address in terms of the ways in which I give of myself and recognizing in different moments of our lives, given our different strengths and preferences and

resources we have available to us, that everything, this is what the Sikh teaching is, that everything can be service if we mean it to be. And we just have to learn how to orient our lives in that way. And that's, that's the difference, just how we orient ourselves. The Apple watch series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple watch ever making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series 10, available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required, charge time and actual results

will vary. You're right as well. Sometimes the best we can do is sit with openness and silence. To listen can be the fundamental mode of service. And as you just shared also, there's a focus in this tradition also in both intent and impact, which I think is fascinating as well, because these are two words that come up in the context of how people are looking at and defining isms these days, especially racism. And increasingly, there's a conversation that says that a racist act is less about the intent, whether there was an intent for harm or not, or for inequality or not.

And you just look at the impact. You look at the consequence of that action or inaction, like did it increase or decrease inequality or cause harm? What's interesting to me here is in the context of how you serve, especially in the sick position, it sounds like what you're describing is an analysis that says, we actually don't look purely at the outcome. We don't look purely at the impact, be it good or bad, but the intent matters. And I wonder if you distinguish between the balance between weighing intent and outcome in the context of service versus harmful impact. Yeah. I mean, I guess for me, part of what I'm trying to say here is that it doesn't have to be a zero-sum game. It doesn't have to be one

or the other. And in our tradition, the teaching is that it's actually both in tandem with one another. That seva is when you put action along with what's in your heart, right? The inspiration of love is really important. And absolutely, I understand that in our context, impact does deserve attention. Agree that there are well-intentioned people who do things that hurt other people. And so the attempt to hide behind sincerity really doesn't fix the problems that we have in front of us. I think that's absolutely true and that we need to do better about recognizing that there's more to it than just what's in your heart. But I think to then say, well, it doesn't matter what you intended. It only matters what happened is also an imbalance. And so figuring out for ourselves,

how do we get to a place where we are each creating the conditions so that what we do and why we do it are both weighed and that we are creating an environment in which the intentions and the impacts are all set up to serve us so that we can each have better lives and better living conditions and better opportunities. I think that's where we're trying to go, right? Like that's where this conversation around justice is really taking us. And now it's a matter of figuring out how we actually get there. And I think the best approach that I found is when you marry those two together, intention and impact.

No, that makes a lot of sense, you know. And if you sort of expand the lens out and you wrap it in this fundamental belief, interconnectedness, if you can develop practices that allow you to start to see not just the individual humanity and others, but the shared humanity, that we are all in fact connected in ways that we can't even imagine, you know, it starts to make the decision-making process, the analysis, the sort of like, or the debriefing of, you know, what happened, whether good or bad or harmful impact or not, um, more expansive because we're, we're looking at a broader set of metrics to truly try and understand. And I think sometimes, you know, a lot of what you're talking about feels to me like we are

calling nuance and humanity back into the conversation, not in the name of letting go, not in the name of ignoring or denying, but in the name of can we individually and all as a society, as a human race, come to a place of more grace and ease together. Yeah, exactly. I think that to me is the name of the game. I mean, I know life is hard and we all have our own challenges, but my view is life doesn't have to be this hard. We can all have a better life. We can all get to a place where we make it easier for ourselves and one another. And that's really what I'm hoping for in our future. Love that. It feels like a good place for us to come full circle as well. So in this container of good life project, if I offer up the phrase to live a good

life, what comes up? I think it's openness for me, being open to the richness of life, the goodness of life. Openness, I think, requires a level of fearlessness, a removal of guilt. You know, enjoyment to me comes with openness. And so all of these things, I think, are tied into living a good life, opening oneself up rather than what we're seeing so much of today, which is constricting and shutting down and shutting out. So openness would be my primary phrase here. Thank you. Thank you. Appreciate this. Hey, before you leave, if you love this episode, safe bet, you'll also love the conversation we

had with Valerie Kaur about advocacy, spirituality, and love. You'll find a link to Valerie's episode in the show notes. And of course, if you haven't already done so, go ahead and love. You'll find a link to Valerie's episode in the show notes. And of course, if you haven't already done so, go ahead and follow Good Life Project in your favorite listening app. And if you appreciate the work that we've been doing here on Good Life Project, go check out my new book, Sparked. It'll reveal some incredibly eye-opening things about maybe one of your favorite subjects, you,

and then show you how to tap these insights to reimagine and reinvent work as a source of meaning, purpose, and then show you how to tap these insights to reimagine and reinvent work as a source of meaning, purpose, and joy. You'll find a link in the show notes, or you can also find it at your favorite bookseller now. Until next time, I'm Jonathan Fields, signing off for Good Life Project. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping.

And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone Xs are later required. Charge time and actual jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised.

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