I Bow to You

 नमस्ते  Namaste

Let’s break down what this word actually means. Combining words in Sanskrit follows the rules of sandhi, or joining. If you split the sandhi on the word namaste, it breaks into simple component words:

नमः  Namaḥ - I bow  

ते  Te -  to you

नमस्ते  Namaste - I bow to you.

You can fluff up the translation in many poetic ways. You may have heard them at the end of a yoga class: “The (divine/light/soul) in me (bows to/honors/recognizes) the (divine/light/spark) in you,” etc.

As pretty as those versions can be, I don’t love them. They are a little too close to saying that I only honor the parts of you that I have inside me. It’s dualistic to imply that there is anything other than light in you. In a non-dual envisioning of the universe, every part of every person is an expression of divine reality.

I want to be part of an inclusive community that honors all of everyone as they already are: whole, complete, and perfect. It’s not just the homogenous light that is worthy of bowing to. The whole of every human being is worthy of worship, especially the weird, different parts. I bow to the multi-faceted shimmering diversity of humanity, multi-hued people that don’t look like me or share my experiences. Our shared divinity is miraculous because it exists amidst a vast ocean of wild differences.

Our divine natures chose to have this human experience, and the whole sloppy package is part of our journey to the divine, not just the light.

I reject the dualistic notion that our humanity somehow hampers our divinity. Our humanity equals our capacity for divinity. We’re all moving towards a gorgeous hypostasis; we’re eternity embodied on a quest to realize itself.  

I choose to bow to all of you. All the parts. The messy, human parts. The luminous divine parts. The hurt parts. The painful, broken parts.

I bow to your wrinkled brow and your saggy arms. I bow to your social anxiety and your small hands and your split ends. I bow to that knee that just doesn’t move like it used to and your short temper. I bow to your graceful legs and your beer belly and your flat feet and the light behind your eyes.

It’s easy to feel respect and affinity for happy people who look like me. It’s a damn sight harder to bow to someone that feels like they came from another world. We each carry many personas inside us.

I bow to the you that’s an embarrassed kid wearing thrift store sweatpants and the you that’s a cheerleader homecoming queen. I bow to the you that’s an adrenaline junky. Yippie-ki-kaye. I bow to the compassionate mother in you. I bow to the black-eyed, wanna-be street fighter in you. I bow to the sloppy drunk in you.

I also bow to the parts of you that I don’t understand and the values I cannot fathom. I honor your struggle and your selfishness, because I have them, too. I honor your sacrifice and your victories, without casting blame or judgment. I bow to your sovereign right to make your own choices, even if I wouldn’t make the same ones. Maybe you’re right; maybe I’m right. Doesn’t matter. I still bow to you.

There’s no way to be off the path. I might not understand the route you’ve chosen, but we’re going to the same place. I might not see the good in your choices, but it isn’t for me to decide. Everything you do is a part of your perfectly messy karma to work through. Everything I do is part of mine. Karma is way too vast and cosmic to pass any judgment; no one can see all ends.

I bow to you as another pilgrim on the path. Diversity strengthens the whole, so I bow deeply to all of our differences. When we respect every person in every circumstance, our humility keeps us closer to grace.

I honor you when your mind is open and when it’s not. I bow to you when you’re binge-watching TV shows on Netflix. I respect you on roads both high and low, paved or less-traveled by.

I even bow to you when you’re being ugly and small on the inside. That’s the real trip. To be aware of our sameness even when it breaks our hearts. To look at the worst and acknowledge that those tendencies belong to us all. To refrain from judging what looks like egocentric actions and to instead enjoy sweet, divine communion. To bow to all people as our teachers, whether we find them inspiring, infuriating, or mundane.

I bow to confusion and love; they’re both part of this ride. I bow to hunger and faith and humility. I bow to the divine manifested as all living beings, in the grocery store, the next cubicle, and in the cars that surround us in traffic.

I bow to you while you stand triumphantly on the mountain, and I bow to you when you’re balled up on the floor crying and wiping your snot on your sleeve. I even bow to you when you’re being an asshole, because that’s human, too. I hope you’ll do the same for me, when my turn comes.

We’re blessed with this illusion of separateness so we can come to know our divine nature and see it reflected back at us through every person we meet.

Come hell or high water, I will bow to you. And I will keep bowing to you, because I’ve been there and you’ve been here.

I bow to all of all of you. That’s it. No caveats or clauses. No exclusions apply. Offer does not expire.

I.

 Bow.

 To You.

 Namaste.

 नमस्ते