My manifesto

There are a million ways to write a manifesto, and very few of them start with a blank piece of paper. We mostly come to our convictions slowly, almost imperceptibly, like falling asleep or in love: little-by-little and then suddenly, without warning, all in.

This past week, I have dipped in and out of work conversations that, while ongoing, somehow feel like a culmination. We are here now, at the tail-end of all that came before. And because my work is in the area of human rights, it feels personal and manifesto-like: simultaneously like a full stop and a comma; intrinsically linked to convictions about how the world should be.

I am, as often, reminded of the accuracy of yoga concepts to describe the human experience. One of the most universally used mantras for yogic meditation is Sohum or Hamsa, meaning (loosely translated) I am that/him/her/them/this. I think of it like this: We are all the culmination of what came before. We are all a full stop and a comma, at the same time, forever, even beyond this world. We are all unstoppable change.

And still. There are convictions that feel settled now for me. Not so much full stops as axes of care. Values, maybe, we could call them, though the convictions that are crystalizing for me are more about practice than principles. Sure, it’s about authenticity. But it is also, and more, about personal accountability for the (authentic) emotions that arise out of my (authentic) personal baggage. It’s easy to be honest. It is much harder to hold onto honesty while maintaining boundaries and care.

This is the manifesto I am looking for: the one we write with our lives, concretely, day-by-day, by showing up with love.