Stirrings of Change

They are calling it the year of cancellations. I’ve heard stories of cancelled children’s birthday parties, graduations, anniversary trips, and once in a lifetime trips. There are stories of postponed weddings. A friend of mine who had a baby who had to show it through the window to the rest of the family members. Grandparents don’t get to hold their grandchildren…We are allowed to be disappointed, while at the same time recognizing that there are those scared for their lives right now at the front-lines, those that are immunocompromised, those that are fighting for their lives, and those that have just lost their loved ones. We are in a pandemic and its effects on our lives cannot be ignored. 

Amidst the year of cancellations, I am finally graduating in less than 3 months. After 11 years of hard work and uphill challenges, I won’t have the opportunity to celebrate with the family and friends that made this possible. While I am looking forward to no longer being a student and having a regular work-home life, I am also realizing that I cannot take the time to celebrate and have a proper graduation. Life just keeps moving along because it is a crisis and we are needed. They say you shouldn’t make decisions in haste or in times of crisis. Unfortunately, there is no other option. Many of us are having to make such decisions. I am starting a life-long career. I need to make long-term, huge decisions about job offers, life opportunities, and places to live. Despite being someone who researches extensively, explores, and takes my time, I can’t do that now. There’s no driving around places and checking them out. It is more like blindly walking into a direction and hoping for the best. I truly have to just rely on my trust of God. What is in my hands, I will write, but what is beyond my control, must be accepted. 

Years ago, in high school, I made a very easy decision to stay in Prince George to do my undergraduate degree. I got accepted a year early with a full scholarship. With my 99% average I could have gone anywhere, but I was so certain in my decision that I didn’t even apply. I am very pleased with the quality of my education. It was helpful to have family around to help while I was busy cramming in the chemical structures of all the amino acids. When it was time to apply to medicine, the decision was less obvious, but God blessed me with the opportunity to stay in my home community. It taught me that one doesn’t physically need to move to grow. You can learn a lot from yourself by digging deep. Medical school was a spiritual transition. At the next stage, in residency, I really looked far and wide across the country. When you are young, the grass always seems greener elsewhere- I found out it’s not. I interviewed across the country. I thought about Gurdwaras, Sikh population, weather, proximity to family, hospitals, safety, curriculum, travel, traffic, etc. No matter what other places had to offer, my home pulled at my heart strongly. The people here smile as they walk by on the street. The sunshine on the snow, the view of the mountains and walks with my family. Friends. It was too painful to leave that behind. There was so much growth that had just started and I wanted to continue that growth without having to learn a new city and feel out of place. I wanted to see things through properly. I still had lots to learn and unfinished business. I stayed for that necessary growth and healing. I actively made a choice to move towards that which was challenging and unfinished, rather than away from it. 

I grew up here. A few blocks down the road is our old house with the back fence against the schoolyard. I remember my mom handing us ice cream sandwiches at recess and coming home for lunch. Riding my bike down the hill into the fence and breaking my wrist. Being in the upstairs of the Roller-dome and learning jab-cross in Tae-Kwon-Do in the summer sun. I remember looking into the basement of our house as it was getting built and getting told spooky stories by my sister. My mom running Punjabi classes for other people’s kids out of our kitchen. Flying off our makeshift teeter totter in the backyard. The shock of the loss of my great-grandfather. Bringing my baby sister home. I remember the Gurdwara getting built. It is full of memories. I remember learning Raag Kirtan for the first time. The celebrations of Gurpurbs and Nagar Kirtans with the same families, and the same Aunties/Uncles, for years and years. It’s a small town Punjabi community- everybody used to know everybody and all of their personal business, until recently when the population grew. It's like a family- we have been with each other as a Punjabi community from everything including emergencies and losses to weddings. There have been great memories of starting off the Prince George Sikh Youth Society, and the projects we worked on like volunteering with the Canadian Diabetes Association. I remember my first day of work at the hospital on the peds ward. I remember visiting my dad in the hospital. Through all the ups and downs, this community and the people in it have filled my home with memories and love. 

I stayed all these years to serve those who helped me get here and all those that invested in me. I had planned on staying long term because I understand the need. I’m in this profession to serve. It is a privilege to do this sewa and I had never imagined leaving. Especially now, just as I finally had time to invest my free time into living a fulfilling life. It was finally time to stop studying in my free time and start actually living. I had thought it was a good place to raise a family as well. Now there are stirrings of change. Change is such an energy that it can just take us by force and surprise. Life has pushed me into unplanned territory. It seems like a very odd time to be making life plans in the middle of a pandemic. I am heartbroken to even thinking of the possibility of leaving behind all of this, by myself. Yet there are opportunities for meeting new sangat, learning music, and attending simran camps elsewhere. I think God is sending me a message not to grow too attached- to family, friends, home, community, to memories. This change has something to teach me. Gurbani tells us that we truly cannot rely on others “the enticing desire for maya leads people to become emotionally attached to their children, relatives, households and spouses.” Guru Ji tells us “neither son, nor spouse, nor wealth shall go along with you- only the Eternal Lord.” We may not want to believe this, but Gurbani tells us it is true. Those around us are extremely important- Gurbani teaches us the concept of Sangat. We cannot live in isolation. At the same time, while we live a householder life, there is a way to not become too attached to people and outcomes. The same is true for careers, we can’t be too attached to those either. I think this is just the beginning of the lesson I am about to learn about attachment. Whatever happens, I am having faith in my Guru and making the best guided decisions that I can based on the information at hand.

I think it is important for all of us to consider the changes that these times are also bringing to us and have trust and faith in Waheguru as we move through this pandemic. 

P.S. I updated my youtube channel with new shabads to learn: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCaJVqGlOz5r_yLZk2KkcenQ/playlists