Two Worlds Collided

A little example of the Great Turning in action

10 days later, and I’m still floored.

Something magical happened at my 25th college reunion.

We Jammed.

Now, those of you know me, are probably not surprised. I can hear you thinking, “What’s the big deal, Shilpa? You Jam everywhere you go. That’s just you.”

And that is true. And yet, this was different. This was Harvard.

What’s more, I didn’t introduce it; I didn’t organize it; I didn’t even ask for it or do anything to make it happen. It just happened — made possible by many other hands — and I did not expect it at all. Which floors me even more.

Before I continue, I should clarify what I mean by Jamming (especially for those of you who don’t know me). I have been part of YES! Jams — generative experiences of beloved community, focused on the meeting point of personal, interpersonal and systemic transformation — for the last 20+ years, all around the world. Jamming refers to both means and ends: the powerful, meaningful connections that emerge when we share our authenticity and vulnerability, listen to and support each other with compassion and openness (instead of judging or fixing), and aim to be present to all of life with our full humanity — the wholeness, brokenness, hilarity, sorrow, and everything in between. In YES! Jams, a group of changemakers gather to vision and practice the world we want to see in real time. We ‘jam’ by increasing our own self-awareness, building bridges across relational divides, and connecting the dots in various systems. Amidst all the truth-sharing, a torrent of love and healing is released, which buoys our spirts and emboldens us with courage and creativity towards co-creating a more beautiful, just, equitable and healthy world for all.

I have been Jamming like this with incredible activists, artists, organizers, lawyers, teachers, healers, etc., all over the world for decades. And yet, this last week, I experienced it in the very institution I have been ‘escaping’ for the last 25 years. I felt I had to heal myself from the over-emphasis on the intellect, the academic posturing, the elitism, the masks to hide vulnerability and not-knowing, the competitive need to win and be right, the arrogance that comes with over-achievement, and so much more. I had to unlearn so much of the culture of schooling, which Harvard not only exemplifies but often actively promotes. Only then could I tune into heart and body wisdom; ancestor, earth and spirit guidance; and diverse knowledge systems that weave connections and inspire possibilities. As the Sioux have said, I had to make the longest journey — from head to heart. In other words, I felt I had to get the Harvard out of me, if I was going to be able to grow transformative work like YES! Jams.

I don’t mean to sound rigid. I definitely felt love, truth and vulnerability in the small circle of my dearest roommates and close friends, and with one very special faculty member (shoutout to Marshall Ganz). And, I am so grateful for those safe havens, because they both shaped me and helped me get through the rest of it. At the same time, my Jam world and my Harvard world were separate, so much so that I never really talked about one much with the other. I only had two friends/acquaintances who crossed between those worlds with me. Actually, to mention Harvard felt like a liability in this realm of unlearning, healing and vulnerability. I didn’t want my credibility (or, my lack of credibility) to be connected to my degree, and I didn’t want the institution to be credited for what I was doing. On the flip side, talking about Jams and my work with Shikshantar in India made me sound pretty freaky-deaky to my classmates. While I definitely had fun hanging out with friends at past college reunions (the 10th, the 15th, the 20th), there was also this impenetrable veneer of “have-it-together-ness”, institutional work and mainstream life, that reinforced my idea that these worlds were really different planets and could never relate.

The 25th reunion started out very differently, though. For one, a few months earlier, many of us learned that one of our classmates took his own life, right around the time we were submitting our entries for the class report and filling out the class survey. It wasn’t that we hadn’t tragically lost a few other classmates to suicide, but that had happened when we were in our 20s — not now when we were supposedly established in our mid-40s. He was also more known to me in community, a part of a large group of close guy friends. His loss, and the shock of it, propelled conversations about mental health and well-being to the forefront of our class. Then, there was the fact that we are all living through Covid, and climate catastrophe, and racial and gender and economic and other injustices, and more. A real reckoning is present in this moment. On top of all of that, there is an awareness of our age and what it means to have less life in front of us than behind us. Time is of the essence in so many ways.

All of this context gave rise to a panel called “Life at Mid-Life”, which four classmates organized and which featured eight other classmates. All of them were high-achieving people: experts in their field, authors and scientists, celebrated journalists, high-ranking government officials, and more. Over the course of 90 minutes, each panelist went to the podium and took about seven minutes to share their life journeys with whole-heartedness. I, along with about 500+ other people, sat in the audience and listened. In the pin-drop silence, they revealed the brokenness that came with their achievements — the addictions, divorces, loneliness, chronic illness, compartmentalization, isolation, broken hearts, minds and bodies — what they had endured and were still enduring. I could see how the courage of each speaker would bolster the next one, as they took the microphone and told their story. Each person took off their mask and let us truly see them. And we saw them. Tears welled up my eyes, and in those all around me, each of us so moved by this extraordinary humility and generosity. I never could have imagined such vulnerability as a class-wide experience. I never could have imagined Jam energy showing up on the main stage at Sanders Theater at Harvard. It was beautiful.

One of the most moving moments for me was when one panelist shared how she had realized in 1995 that she was gay, but never came out and told anyone. And that 5 months ago — 28 years later — she finally did it. We started cheering and clapping for her, and when the applause finally died down, she said, visibly shaken, “Wow. You never get that kind of reaction on Instagram.” She then said, pointing down, “And there is my girlfriend,” which precipitated another huge round of cheering. Then, she shared that her father had recently passed away, and how she was living with the fact that her father only really knew who she was for five months of their life together. It was heartbreaking and poignant, and brought tears to many eyes, including mine. Her personal story also completely emphasized her overall point: that we remember that we have time but, at the same time, not that much time; and so the time is now to dedicate ourselves to our truth and to the relationships we want.

Two worlds collided during that panel, and like the INXS song, I now feel like nothing could tear them apart. Something was forged, something collective, just in the way I have seen it forged in YES! Jams, after the opening check-in and with each subsequent opportunity for honest sharing and open listening. It is the alchemy of beloved community.

The rest of the reunion carried forward this energy. Each person I connected with had a real story to share and wanted to listen with compassion, acceptance, and spaciousness. And I could see it happening all around me — from conversations over meals, to random run-ins, to late night drinks at the bar... It was wild. The honesty and care also seeped into our other panels on racial justice, social impact, democracy and climate change. The grief and pain, the struggles and broken dreams, had a place to be seen and accepted, which, in turn, made the joy and love even stronger (as evidenced by how we tore it up on the dance floor the last night!). More space for grief meant more space for joy, and round and round, it exponentially grew.

Maybe it is not a coincidence that this happened now, in 2023. This year marks a halfway point. Starting in 2011, following the Occupy movement and the Arab spring, we started visioning 25 years into the future in Jams around the world. As the years went on, and we continued to Jam, we didn’t change the date of the vision goal. Instead, we held fast to the world where the seeds we were planting today would come into fruition by 2036. From Nova Scotia to Pakistan, from Anatolia to the US South, the visions were so similar — safety, health, and well-being; freedom of expression and existence; clean air, food, water; creative education; justice and fairness for all. Jammers around the world were/are aiming to grow these elements through their diverse work and lives. This kind of hopeful and creative visioning was/is made possible in a space of authentic connection and an experience of healing at all levels. And, now, halfway to 2036, look what happened!

Personally, I feel like my worlds integrated for the first time in 25 years. As with the collective, something was forged within me, and it was deeply healing. I am excited to see where we go from here. If the follow-up posts in our Facebook group are any indication, I sense it is only going to grow. So, I don’t know about you, but I am taking this as evidence of the Great Turning (as coined by beloved elder, Joanna Macy) — that we are moving out of the age of separation and towards deeper alignment, healing, and into the age of interconnectedness. I mean, if Jamming is happening at Harvard, we must be on track, right? At least, that’s what I am betting on. I think INXS would agree.

Check out the throwback video from 1987!