In life, since I was a kid, I've been to many Sikh camps, retreats, seminars and myriad other events. Some places, I learnt a lot about Sikhi and got a deeper understanding of philosophies; some for me were more like reviews and spun my thoughts to some new projects or topics to explore and undertake. Some, as it is with all things, were disappointing but I can't say I didn't learn something there as well. When at the age of 17, I moved to California, having quite a bit of time on my hands as only a high school student and not much to worry about, I got to explore quite a few of the local Sikh retreats and events. Of them all, although most were wonderful, the one I've made a yearly tradition of attending is Saanjh
Now, Saanjh is
18 and up, mainly because it requires certain amount of
understanding and maturity to be an active participant in discussion
and fully understand and explore the topics on hand. I attended as
the youngest participant at Saanjh my first year—and my
theory is because Waheguru really wanted me to go.
Although
in my head it is mingled that the first Saanjh I happened
to attend was the first summer I was in California, that's got
little to do with why Saanjh's the one retreat I try and
make time for every year. Why I do go every year is
because Saanjh was the first Sikh retreat of my life,
to give me peace. Although it's generally a good assumption that
nature has to do with my inner peace and Saanjh being in
middle of forest is the reason; but in this case, it's nothing
to do with location at all. I was a teenager, and like all teenagers,
we could say I was in a somewhat rebellious phase. Only that my
rebellion had to do with an inner confusion over how could so many
Sikhs not talk about 1984, and discuss it. How could that be a taboo
subject and how could everyone my age around me know so little about
Sikhi beyond some very basic factual history and almost nothing of
Sikh philosophy. It hurt more because I grew up in Punjab. It hurt
even more because I saw the parents who'd in their youth been proud
Sikhs, even activists, trying to keep the kids away from becoming too
involved in Sikhi. Parents felt nervous seeing their kids do anything
more than adhere to their physical Sikh appearance, or at most, do
their nitnem. The nit-activity of a Sikh, through action and
dialogue, was not nourished at all.
To
feel so deeply about things, to care so much, and to want to do more
than you can to rectify things; and then to find out that many in
your community seem to not even wanna talk about it… for a person
filled with hope it’s rather a hard blow to take.
Idealism and
naivety is what I was told. That I'd grow out of the phase and learn
the social ways. Now I am me, and I was raised in a home where
nothing was out of limits for discussion, by parents who decided
matters based on understanding and logic. All the “-isms” of the
world that I encountered were irrelevant and just obstacles to be
dealt with and although none of it ever wavered my hope, I'd long
before given up on meeting people who wanted to do all they could as
Sikhs, for humanity.
Saanjh was the place that gave me that hope again. It was where not just '84 was discussed and explained but also done so with an eye on the present and future. The idea of “2084” was introduced: where does the community see itself 100 years after a watershed event?More importantly, we didn’t just discuss visions for a weekend and then go back to the 'normal' life. We discussed to establish impactful seva projects, discussion groups, and strategies for our everyday lives that would help us all here in the U.S. and Punjab move out of present psyche of depression and fear. I've always despised deep discussion that end with no change, so moving towards change and a better one, was a pleasant surprise!
I
could give you many more reasons to go Saanjh. This year’s
facilitators include artists, writers, poets, activists, and
leaders of all hues—and non-Sikh superstars like Angela
Harris; Saanjh every year has a workshop in solidarity with
a “non-Sikh” issue and/or activist.
No matter if you know a
little about Sikhi or a lot, you'll find stimulating conversations
and a purposefulness to them. You will meet people who will inspire
you, give you hope, and share yours with the same sort of Sikhi
spirit that one might envision in a darbar happening in Guru Gobind
Singh's presence. That feeling, is why I make time to go every year,
no matter how busy I am. The fact that it's not too far, in Santa
Cruz, CA, is tremendous plus. But even if you don't live in Cali, see
if you can find enough time to make it over. You won't regret it.