Sikhs, Hindus, Christians, and Buddhists

[Guest guest]

Dear Friends,

 

About twenty-two miles from my home is a town called Yuba City. It is

the largest population of Sikhs in North America. I have been among

turbaned brothers and saried sisters for my entire life. This is my

blessing in this life. Our city and the surrounding cities had a

council gathered with speakers from an Islamic spokesman and a Sikh

spokesman. There is a close brotherhood among the people of this

community, and I hope we can be an example of how to behave in this

fear-generated time of uncertainty. When I was a child, my brother

Charlie and I wanted to be Sikhs. I didn't just want to be a Sikh, I

wanted to be one who got to wear a turban. So Charlie and I toweled

up each other's heads, and off we sped on our bicycles, in search of

Amritsar on the banks of the Feather River. Another day we wanted to

be Hindus, and Charlie didn't want to be any Hindu, he wanted to be

one who got to wear a tilak, the red mark women wear. So we lip-

sticked up our foreheads and off we sped on our bicycles in search of

Varanasi along the banks of the Feather-Ganges. On another day we

chose to be Christians, and not just any Christian, but a Christian

who suffered the wounds of Christ. We scratched each other's wrists

and feet with a nail, and we hopped on our bycycles, speeding to the

Jordan-Feather River to be baptised by the sun and the pure spirit

dancing in our eager souls and sweet innocent hearts. We saw a

Buddhist monk, chanting in ochre robes, bare headed, closed eyed,

on television, and we wanted to become Buddhist monks. And not

just any Buddhist monk, but a monk who shed the locks at initiation.

So we scissored off each others hair and off we sped on our bicycles,

in search of Lhasa high in the mountain behind our house. We climbed

to the top of Table Mountain, a full days journey up and back. And

there we reached the top and sat gazing over the entire enormous

valley below us. Two shining children, given freedom to explore any

religion (accept for the hair-cutting!) and there we sat at the edge

of the world and knew such love and peace it is indescribable. We

were no more than eleven and twelve years old. We came down the

mountain and reached the bottom just as dusk was embracing the

eastern horizon, and we had a fullness that has never left us, and we

have such a closeness and depth of love, brother to earthly sister,

that I know Charlie and I became soul-sojourners in an unbreakable

pact for all time until both are freed in enlightenment. All the

different robes, apparel, decorations, are love gowns of the One

Beloved, for all the different expressions of that One Love. Charlie

and I brought that truth home to roost when we became Sikhs, Hindus,

Christians and Buddhists. The love remained the same regardless of

who we were for the time at hand. Like a sponge, we absorbed all His

Love from every religion, and when squeezed with ecstasy, only Love

and Light poured forth. "Look at this glowing day!"

 

"The love religion has no code or doctrine,

only God.

The ruby has no engraving on it."

 

With Love of Glowing Days,

Mazie