Walking along the Bow River in Calgary, I look at the downtown skyline and, for the first time in decades, sense a shift within. My relationship with this city of endless skies, my birthplace, is complicated, marked by disconnection, loss, and sadness. But this time, amidst the familiar landscape, I detect a glimmer of levity, a whisper of hope and light.
As Toko-Pa Turner articulates in her book "Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home," the roots of our estrangement begin with personal stories (p.25, 2017). The threads of isolation which are woven throughout my familial narrative are built on intergenerational loneliness and the invisibility shaped by the shadows of war, fear and unworthiness. These stories are further rooted in the constructs of colonialism in which the color of your skin, parental profession, and gender dictate one’s worth. Lastly, the continued fracturing of one's identity is exacerbated by the repeated act of moving from one place to another. As Turner aptly says, “the more you leave, the more splintered you become.” (p.28)
As children of the unrooted, the unseen and the unaccepted - where do our compasses guide us? In stability’s absence, how do we locate a center that is steadfast? How do we remove the splinters? It's like navigating a maze blindfolded where self-awareness, determination, and focus may aid in finding the elusive exit, but the dark corners and dead-ends remain part of the shadow self.
In my life, invisibility and love coexisted within the same confines—the same house. While I knew, at my core, that I was loved, the feeling of being truly seen eluded me. In my early teens, it felt as though the walls were closing in. Yet, I persisted, finding solace in academic and athletic pursuits, driven by an unwavering resolve. If anything was to be mine, I knew I had to earn it. Yet, despite my focus and self-awareness, loneliness lingered—a silent companion that still whispers in the corners of my soul.
Over the past weekend, during my meditation teacher training at the Yoga & Meditation Center in Calgary, a profound shift in my perception of belonging unfolded. As I sat and listened to Lama Geshe Yong Dong speak about the three poisons—ignorance, attachment, and anger—I found myself contemplating the link between belonging and attachment. These poisons or obstacles, he explained, impede our journey towards enlightenment, a state of consciousness free from suffering and negative emotions. In his teachings, I discerned a broader understanding of belonging taking shape within me. This was my thought train:
I want to belong. I want to be seen.
Therefore, I am attached to the desire of belonging and being seen.
To belong is to be accepted as my true self.
To show my true self equates to showing my vulnerabilities.
Being vulnerable is scary.
I am scared of showing my true self because I fear judgment and rejection.
Being judged and rejected will subsequently lead to further isolation.
My fear of rejection is stopping me from belonging (and being my authentic self - and so the circle continues).
As framed by Lama Geshe Yong Dong, the notion of belonging transcends mere inclusion within social circles or familial gatherings; it encompasses all sentient beings. It's a sense of belonging devoid of individualism, where distinctions between 'you' and 'I' dissolve. Our bodies are but temporary homes in which consciousness resides, and recognizing that we all emanate from the same energetic space renders the question of belonging to one another irrelevant. This might explain the profound sense of connection often experienced in wild places, where an intrinsic understanding of interconnectedness prevails, free from judgment—it simply exists.
The prospect of attaining enlightenment in this lifetime remains uncertain and, frankly, not the point of sharing this thought train. Rather, it's about emphasizing that belonging can be discovered beyond human relationships. This isn't to advocate for a solitary existence or to diminish the importance of meaningful connections. Rather, it's about settling into our authentic selves—a state of being unencumbered by the fear of rejection—and discovering genuine belonging by relinquishing what no longer serves us. By releasing negativity, we can make space for equanimity, joy, compassion and loving kindness. And I believe that as we embrace these qualities, we naturally gravitate toward kindred spirits and illuminate the interconnectedness that has always bound us.
In essence, as I look to the skyline, I see that belonging is not something that we achieve, it is a way of being. The energy of the rising sun isn’t confined to the horizon—it exists everywhere, within me and within you. When we perceive the inherent light in all things, the illusion of separation fades into insignificance. And our sense of belonging grows.
Comments