SOMETIME ago, an anthropologist went to a village in Africa to conduct an experiment. The person put a basket of fruits beside a tree and he gathered some children and told them that there was a basket of fruits under the tree and whoever could get there first would be able to eat all the fruits. The scientist waited for the response of the children.
What happened next shocked the anthropologist because the children held hands and walked towards the tree together. He then asked why they did that when one of them could have gotten all the fruits. One child replied, “how can we be happy when one of us is miserable?”
Sometime after that the well-known Desmond Tutu explained that kind act in one word, Ubuntu, which literally means “I am because we are.” And that is in direct contrast to what this world teaches.
This world tells us to look out for ourselves, to think of our own welfare and to satisfy our needs and wants. In the Seventies there was a phrase for it, “looking out for number one.” Sometimes decades do not change things. Today we are still looking out for “number one” even if it means making the lives of others miserable. Even if it means stepping on others just to get what we want.
In the Brahma tradition, the breath of Brahma, the highest of all beings is felt in everything. In animals, in the blooming of flowers, in the rising and falling of days in the weaving of the seasons and in the cycles of life, in dances and song, in tears and grief, in celebration and joy, in every fruit and whisper of the wind. In you, in me, the breath of Brahma is there. And to understand this concept their teachers would sum it up in three words, “This is you.” All these to mean all that you see and feel and touch are a part of you and that we are all connected somehow.
Perhaps in furtherance of that we then realize that we must respect all that we see and touch and hear. All that envelops us and all that embraces our beings.
We are all connected, we are somehow bound. I am you and you are me. When you think about there are enough fruits for every one if only we held hands and marched towards the tree. It only takes reaching out our hands.