Category Archives: Multicultural

Vesak Celebrations

The Vesak Festival වෙසක් උත්සවය

By Saviru Bandara, age 11, Australia

My Vesak themed artwork (see above) shows how I celebrate my culture as a Sri Lankan Buddhist (who lives in Australia) during the Vesak festival.

The Vesak Festival (වෙසක් උත්සවය) is the most important and sacred celebration for Buddhists around the world. It takes place on the full‑moon day in May and marks three significant events in the life of Lord Buddha: his birth, his enlightenment, and his passing away. In 1999, the United Nations officially recognized Vesak as an International Day, showing its importance as a symbol of peace for the whole world.

Vesak is celebrated annually by all Buddhists around the world. Despite cultural differences, the central purpose of the festival remains the same everywhere—to honour the Buddha’s teachings of compassion, peace, and wisdom.

Just a few days before Vesak, I make Vesak lanterns (called Vesak kudu, in Sinhalese, our native language from Sri Lanka) with my friends at our community language school in Australia. Normally, each child makes one Vesak lantern. Then adults take it to our Buddhist temple to hang it on Vesak morning. In the evening, our Vesak lanterns are lighted.

On the Vesak Day, we go to temple and observe sill. During Sil programme, a Buddhist monks talk to us about Buddha’s teachings. Also, they teach us how to meditate. So, our mind becomes more peaceful.

When we go to the temple in the morning to celebrate Vesak we take flowers, incense sticks, and oil or wax lamps. These items have symbolic meanings: flowers remind us of the beauty (and the impermanence) of life, incense represents purity, and lamps symbolize enlightenment. I like watering the Bodhi tree on the day (Buddha received the enlightenment while meditating under a Bodhi tree).

On Vesak Day, grown-ups and kids can join in the Vesak Perahia or Vesak parade. Traditional dancers, drummers, and performers and devotees take part in the procession. In Sri Lanka, elephants decorated with beautiful colourful costumes also take part in the parade.

In the evening at our temple, we participate in giving free food or Dansala to people. We offer free tea, coffee or herbal drinks for the devotees visiting the temple. This opportunity teaches us collective work as well as the importance of donating.

Beyond the celebrations, the heart of Vesak lies in its message. It reminds people to be kind, peaceful, and mindful in their daily lives. The festival encourages everyone, regardless of their religion or background, to practice good deeds and bring happiness to others.

Vesak is a festival that combines joy, reflection, and compassion. It celebrates the life and teachings of the Buddha while inspiring people to become more thoughtful and caring. Vesak continues to spread a message of harmony and kindness that is meaningful for people everywhere. Also, Vesak helps me to preserve my Sri Lankan culture in my new home as an immigrant in Australia.

If you visit Sri Lanka, during the month of May, you can see and enjoy all of the Vesak celebrations and traditions. The festival is being celebrated this year in Sri Lanka (as in many other countries of the world) on May 30th. Because many Asian cultures still follow lunar calendar, in some communities, it might also be celebrated on May 1st.

By Saviru Bandara, age 11 Australia.

 

To Be A Child

 To Be A Child

By Carin A.

In West Bank, April, 2026

To be a child, here, now, is to hear and feel the massive impact of the missile striking a nearby city, and to say with confidence that you are not afraid, and then to wet your bed every night, for the first time in years.

It is to find one hundred ways to play in the long hours you must stay inside. To chase the rubber ball through the living room, in your mind a vast soccer field, to score the winning goal.

To be a child, here, now, is to see the Israeli settlers drag your father out of the car when he is driving you to school, and then to watch as they beat him. It is to live knowing that at any moment, they can come.

To be a child, here, now, is to run out to the balcony when a missile is coming, shouting with glee, “Sarookh, sarookh!” and then to watch the rocket tracing a fiery trail through the night sky, arcing downwards until it explodes with a thunderclap that shakes you to your bones.

It is to feel the love of your grandfather, as he picks you up, smiling. It is to see the web of your family surround you, laughing and talking across the long dinner table.

It is to be woken by the sound of the army breaking down your door, and then to see them come into your bedroom, blindfold and zip tie you, and take you on the floor of their jeep to the detention center, where they beat and interrogate you. It is to remember your parents, standing in front of the house, helpless to protect you.

To be a child, here, now, is to jump up and down in excitement when you see your sister, proudly playing the drums in the colorful Scouts parade that makes its way down the narrow street, lined with ancient stone.

It is to have your preschool class interrupted by the sounds of men shouting, and shooting, as the Israeli military suddenly raids your refugee camp.

To be a child, here, now, is to rejoice as you run to play with your cousins in the playground you can visit only once a month—an indoor playground, because the few outside risk the rockets.

It is to look out of the car window to see the face of your uncle, as he is humiliated at the checkpoint. It is to see the assault rifles strapped across the shoulders of the soldiers, and to know that you must sit very, very still.

To be a child, here, now, is to hear the sirens begin in the nearby Israeli settlement, and to know that those children are being whisked away to safety. To be a child, here, now, is to know that there is no safety for you.

Carin A. is a Quaker Montessori educator who has worked with children in many communities across the globe. She holds an MA in Education, and has worked internationally as a teacher mentor and consultant. She is a board member of Healing to Hope, a US-based nonprofit that works to support the psycho-social well-being of Palestinian children in partnership with its Bethlehem-based sister organization, Anar. An occasional contributor to Skipping Stones and an advocate for nonviolence and children’s safety sent it to us for publication on her behalf. We share this writing with you on behalf of children caught in terrible wars and conflicts not of their own making. 

Chinese Americans of Historical Significance

May is Asian American, Native Hawaiian, Pacific Islander Month.

The first Asians documented in the Americas arrived in 1587, when Filipinos landed in California. In 1788, the first Native Hawaiian arrived on the continental United States, in Oregon. And, in 1900, Hawaii was annexed by the U.S. The Chinese, Japanese, Hawaiians, Indians, Koreans and other Asians have migrated to the United States over the last few centuries. Wikipedia has a great article on the history of Asians and Hawaiians that you may like to read. To observe the AAPIH Month, we are pleased to share a few writings by Fanny Wong of New York, focusing on some important Chinese personalities that have made significant contributions to our nation’s history. A few of these are:

Hong Yen Chang: The First Chinese Lawyer in the U.S.

Born To Be A Chef: Eileen Yin-Fei Lo

Polly Bemis: A Pioneer Chinese Woman in the Northwest

Hazel Lee, Chinese American Fighter Plane Pilot

King of the Soup Dumplings: Yang Bing-Yi

United States v. Wong Kim Ark

Discrimination Against Asians in the United States

Ten Times Better: George Lee, Ballet Dancer

By Fanny Wong, Chinese American Author, New York.

Young George Lee stood by himself, leaning against the fence in the playground. Other children ignored him in recess, just as they did in the classroom. He looked thoroughly Chinese, but they knew he had a Polish mother. Still, George was a happy child.

His father, Alexander, a circus acrobat, taught his young son how to do a headstand. Father and son were so proud when he finally nailed it. His mother, Stanislawa, a former ballerina, was George’s first ballet teacher. She insisted that George learn every pose, exercise and combination correctly. Not just correctly, but beautifully. George loved the lessons. He loved to dance. That’s why he was a happy child in spite of not having friends.

In 1941, when Japan occupied Hong Kong, where George was born and lived with his family, they fled to Shanghai. There he took dance lessons from Russian teachers. Dancing made him forget for a little while that his father had gone to western part of China to find work. At the age of 7, George was performing polkas and Russian dances in nightclubs to help support the family.

George was heart-broken when his father died in a traffic accident on his way back to Shanghai. Fearing the Communist takeover of Shanghai, mother and son evacuated to the Philippines and spent two years in a hot and humid refugee camp. His mother had to find a way to get out of there. She was able to contact a friend, who sponsored their immigration to the United States.

This friend not only changed their lives by being a sponsor, but he also set George on a path to a career in dance. He introduced him to the School of American Ballet, the prestigious ballet school in New York City. He received a full-scholarship, and in an advance dance class where all the students were White. Knowing how fortunate he was, he was never late for class and wished the classes lasted longer.

Balanchine, the principal and choreographer of the school, asked George what he could do. George did impressive splits, double turns and multiple turns. His dancing was masculine, graceful and joyful! Balanchine was impressed and gave him a role of “Tea” in the 1954 production of The Nutcracker. He was the first Asian dancer in the New York City Ballet. His costume—the Fu Manchu moutache, the queue and rice paddy, did not bother him. “Dancing is dancing,” he said.

But his dancing was being noticed. A New York Times critic observed, “George jumps wonderfully and exhibits some wonderful extensions in the Chinese dance.”

He was not asked to join NY City Ballet. At 5’ and 5”, he was told he was too short. He could do nothing about his height. However, his dancing caught the attention of Gene Kelly, a renowned dancer in film musicals. He cast George in the original production of “Flower Drum Song.” He did 600 performances, many in various cities. He was doing what he loved, and he was using ballet techniques in the Broadway shows.

Touring was tiring and the work was sporadic. There was too much traveling involved, and he had to stay in inexpensive hotels. As much as he loved to dance, he decided to learn a new trade. While performing in Las Vegas, Nevada in his mid-forties, he learned to be a casino dealer. He worked as a blackjack dealer for 40 years in different casinos after he retired from dance performances.

As the first Asian dancer at New York City Ballet, he led the way for the next generation of Asian ballet dancers who are becoming increasingly prominent in major dance companies. New York City Ballet features Chun Wai Chan (Chinese) and Mira Nadon (Indian and American) among others.

When they were moving to the U.S., his mother had told him that he must always remember that he would be seen as a Chinese person in White America, and so he’d better be ten times better. George never forgot that; he always tried to be his best both in school and in his work. He died at the age of 90 on April 20, 2025.

By Fanny Wong, Asian American author, New York. Her work has been featured numerous times in Skipping Stones over the years.

Fou Tsong: A Renowned Chinese Pianist

“I’m always a beginner, I’m always learning.”

By Fanny Wong, Chinese American Author, New York.

Fou Tsong, the renowned pianist, was born in 1934 in China. He was well-known for his sensitive interpretation of the compositions of Chopin, Debussy, Schubert and Mozart. Still, Chopin’s music was closest to his heart. 

At the age of 21, he was awarded the third place prize at the 1955 International Chopin Piano Competition held in Warsaw, Poland. He also won a special prize for his performance of a Chopin’s Mazurka.

How did a shy, quiet young man from China reach such heights?

Fou Tsong’s father, Fou Lei, used to tell him, “First, you must be a person, and then a musician, and then a pianist.”

Fou Lei was an intellectual who translated the complete works of the French author Balzac into Chinese. His strong and heartfelt opinions shaped his son. He provided the water, soil and nutrients for his son’s growth, down to the correct elbow positions at the edge of the dinner table. He thought that people, like trees, without good cultivation, could not thrive.

Fou Tsong, under his father’s supervision, was educated in the classical Chinese traditions and grew up under Chinese and Western cultural influences. His household was full of art and music with a large collection of records.  

His father noted his son’s love of piano and music, and him bought a piano. Fou Tsong began his music lessons at the age of 7. He later recalled, “When I was young, I enjoyed playing the piano so much I felt I was in paradise. A gift from heaven.”

Among his earliest teachers was Mario Paci, founder of the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra. After Paci’s death in 1947, Tsong studied mainly on his own.

In 1952, Tsong performed Beethovan’s Emperor Concerto with the Shanghai Philharmonic to great acclaim. The Chinese government was so proud that he had reached such prominence that it sent him at age 19, to international competitions in Bucharest, and then to Warsaw.   

At the Conservatory, his teachers praised that his playing was like a flowing stream, like a river. While he was studying in Warsaw on a scholarship preparing for the 1955 competition, Communists took over the government of China. This political change brought danger, turmoil and suffering to the nation. Fou Tsong was called back to China. He was instructed to writing a self-criticism and witnessed his father being branded as anti-Communism. He returned to Poland and graduated from the Warsaw Conservatory in December 1958. After what he had seen in China, he made a decision to defect—seeking a political asylum in London, England on Christmas Eve, in 1958. His career soared from his London base.

Fou Lei’s trouble increased with his son’s defection. The Red Guards from the Shanghai Conservatory hounded him. The Red Guards were primarily high school and college students mobilized by Chairman Mao Zedong to enforce his vision of Communist society. They targeted and harassed perceived intellectuals of traditional influence and bourgeois elements. Both his parents, under great duress from the Red Guard, committed suicide. His father was 58, mother 53. His heart broke when he learned of their deaths two months later.

In 1981, a volume of the letters from his father over the years was published. It was full of advice, encouragement and stern paternal love. The book “Fou Lei’s Family Letters,” collected by Fou Tsong’s brother, Fou Min, became a best seller in China.

* * *

A Few Quotes from Fou Lei’s Letters:

• 1954, evening of 18th and 19th of January.

“If one cannot see the larger picture, one is in the danger of thinking the sky is no bigger than it appears to be seen from the bottom of the well.”

• 1955, 26th of January.

“Dear Son, Had we ourselves been in the hall where you played, we would have been unable to control ourselves. Happy at the honor you’re bringing to our country. And happier you are giving joy to so many others through your music.”     

* * * 

Only a few of Fou Tsong’s letters to his father survived, likely because many were destroyed by the Chinese government.

In his later years, Fou Tsong played the piano for hours every day, even as his fingers grew frail. Whenever he was criticized for defecting and of being a traitor to his country, he would say, “It’s not that I was longing for the West. I was choosing freedom. There was no other choice.”

Fou Tsong died in London of Covid-19 in 2020 at the age of 86. He left us these words, “I’m always a beginner, I’m always learning.”

He is remembered for his sensitive ear for color and the elusive gift of melody. His music swirled, twisted and soared on wings of sound.

By Fanny Wong, Chinese American author, New York. Ms. Wong is a frequent contributor to Skipping Stones Magazine. Please also read Hong Yen Chang: The First Chinese Lawyer in the U.S. that Fanny wrote recently by clicking on the title.

Making A Difference: Taking Action

Making A Difference: Taking Action is a Choice 

And that Choice is Available to Us Every day

By Zoe Leitner, age 18, New Jersey.

I have a history of taking action. I believe that action is the most honest form of belief. Conviction means little unless it alters how we behave—what we build, what we interrupt, and what we refuse to ignore. Awareness is only a beginning; agency begins when we decide to respond.

My understanding of action began somewhere ordinary: the kitchen. For my mom and me, baking together, mostly chocolate, was routine, almost background noise. But in 2020, I realized that familiarity could be a tool for change. I started selling over 600 hot chocolate bombs in my community, raising more than $4,000 and reaching over 80 families. I didn’t do it to seek recognition, but in response to what I saw around me: needs that could be met, even in small ways.

The project worked not because of novelty, but because it was accessible. Participation didn’t require prior experience, complicated forms, or large commitments. Anyone could contribute in a meaningful way. It was easy to understand, easy to engage with, and immediately relevant to the people it aimed to serve. What mattered most was how the money was used afterward. Instead of deciding what organizations might need, I asked them. Jackets instead of cash. Food instead of flyers. Listening reshaped my understanding of service: meaningful help begins with attention, not assumption.

That lesson stayed with me. In 2023, I founded Chocolate4Charity, a nonprofit that channels my love of baking into meaningful impact. Through partnerships with Pink Jewels Boutique, David Chad Beauty Parlor, Nicole Nicosia Hair, and Smith & Company Gifts, we’ve sold over 800 boxes, raising nearly $10,000 for causes I care deeply about: $3,000 to the Mark Schonwetter Holocaust Education Foundation, $3,500 to the Montclair Animal Shelter, $1,000 to MIB Agents Pediatric Cancer Research, and 200 chocolate boxes donated to Comfort Zone Bereavement Camps.. Over 80 students have joined me in volunteering, packaging, and delivering chocolates, discovering firsthand how small actions ripple outward. Each box doesn’t just deliver chocolate; it gives people a chance to contribute, participate, and see the real impact of their efforts.

Chocolate is the vehicle, not the focus. Some causes reflect my family’s history. Supporting Holocaust education honors my great-grandparents, Holocaust survivors, and my grandparents, immigrants, whose experiences shaped my understanding of responsibility. Other causes reflect friendship, grief, and compassion, such as supporting a peer battling cancer, helping children navigate loss, and advocating for animal rights.

The most important measure of success is not the money raised but the number of people who participate. Many people want to help but hesitate because they do not know where to begin. Chocolate4Charity offers an accessible entry point through packaging chocolates, sharing a cause, or delivering donations. I have watched classmates who rarely speak up—over 80 in total—discover a sense of purpose simply by stepping into action. Real impact begins not with grand gestures but with invitations that inspire others to act.

In 2025, I was honored as a Top Upstander at an event organized by a library in Montclair, New Jersey, in collaboration with children’s book author Dr. Janice Cohn. The recognition was meaningful, but I do not see it as a title or an accolade. To me, being an Upstander is deliberate. It is the refusal to remain passive once you notice something that needs attention. It is the choice to respond, even when the right path is unclear or imperfect.

This understanding resonates with a message Dr. Janice Cohn often shares: “Light a tiny candle.” Action is not about being seen; it’s about aligning belief with our behavior. It is found in everyday decisions—listening, offering help, stepping forward when silence would be easier. That philosophy continues to guide my work with Chocolate4Charity and in other parts of my life.

Being an Upstander, like any meaningful action, is not a single moment. It’s a practice, a habit, and a commitment to notice what others might overlook. In that sense, recognition matters less than the choices that lead to it. Action remains its own reward.

Action began in a kitchen for me, with melted chocolate and a question I could not ignore: What will I do with what I see? That question has guided every choice I’ve made since that first chocolate, and to the moments when I have chosen to speak, listen, and act.

Meaningful change requires aligning belief with behavior, noticing what needs attention, and inviting others to work with you. Real impact is rarely sudden or dramatic. It is built from small, intentional acts that ripple outward, shaping communities, relationships, and lives in ways that are often invisible, yet enduring.

I truly believe taking action is a choice, and that choice is available to us every day. That’s where responsibility begins, and that’s where belief becomes real!

—Zoe Leitner, Age 18, New Jersey.

Imagine…

Imagine…

“Just a tiny candle we lit. It wasn’t much. But it was something.”
                                     —Gary Svee, an editor at the Billings Gazette, 1994.

The quote above appears on the cover of the new edition of my book, The Christmas Menorahs: How A Town Fought Hate.

The book recounts the true story of the extraordinary 1993 holiday season in Billings, Montana, when the town took a united, courageous stand against hate and bigotry. The citizens of Billings were perplexed by the national attention their actions received. “Just a tiny candle we lit,” said Gary Svee, an editor at the Billings Gazette.

And yet…imagine how different our country (and the world) would be if people in every community just “lit a tiny candle” against hate and injustice.

Now imagine if the actions of all young people, who “lit a tiny candle” were recognized and honored.

At a time when the problems and challenges of young people today are routinely discussed, imagine if the actions of young people who have shown moral courage and compassion on behalf of others could be routinely highlighted.

In December 2025, my town library in Montclair, New Jersey, presented a special holiday event that celebrated some of Montclair’s young Upstanders and featured a reading of portions of The Christmas Menorahs, along with an excerpt from the acclaimed 1995 PBS documentary, Not In Our Town, which cinematically tells this story of how the people of Billings took a strong stand against hate and bigotry.

The book reading and film were meant to inspire the audience. But much inspiration came from hearing about the actions of the young people who were being honored.

What makes a child or adolescent an Upstander? Is it a dramatic, brave, morally courageous act? Is it less dramatic, quieter acts of compassion and kindness towards others in need, or can being a true Upstander encompass both—or either?

The research shows that when children and adolescents stand up for—and take actions to help—others in need, it can help them as well by enhancing their self-esteem, lowering their stress and anxiety, and even improving their academic performance.

That’s why it’s important for communities (whether those communities are schools, houses of worship, or towns) to recognize and honor young Upstanders. This could be for actions taken on behalf of other Americans or on behalf of people around the world.

My book, Freedom Pancakes For Ukraine, published in 2024, tells the story of a Ukrainian refugee boy, displaced by the current war in his country, and an American girl who wanted to find a way to help the Ukrainian children.

One of the reasons I wrote it was to encourage American children and adolescents to realize that they can counteract their feelings of helplessness when hearing about war and injustice by taking positive action and making a difference, however small they may think that difference is.

Time magazine recently named its 2025 “Kid of the Year.” The winner featured on its cover, Tejasvi Manoj, used her exceptional computer skills and her “on-site” experts—her parents—to create an extraordinary website, Shield Seniors, which will help protect countless seniors from consumer scams.

My dream is to have a national movement to encourage young people to stand up and help others. They don’t have to possess exceptional skills or expertise since every young person has the ability to help another human being in some way. They may not end up on the cover of Time magazine, but their actions should be recognized and honored.

During these difficult, divisive times, let’s encourage thousands of “tiny candles” to be lit by young people on behalf of those in need. It will be good for them, as well as for the people they stand up for, and thus help make our world a better place for all.

You may also be interested in the article I have written for young people, in Skipping Stones magazine about Upstanders.

Dr. Janice Cohn is a psychotherapist and children’s book author. She can be contacted at: janice@drjanicecohn.comThe Christmas Menorahs: How A Town Fought Hate, this 30th Anniversary edition was a winner of the 2025 Skipping Stones Book Awards. You can read a review of the book here.

          

On Being An Upstander

On Being An Upstander

A lot has been written and discussed about the problems and challenges that many of you face as you try to navigate a difficult, complex world.

But in my view, there hasn’t been nearly enough focus on those of you who—despite your challenges—have taken a stand to make the world a better place by courageously combating hate, bigotry, and bullying, and showing kindness and compassion toward others.

I’m Dr. Janice Cohn, a psychotherapist and book author, who writes about “Upstanders” of all ages, people who have shown exceptional moral courage. A number of young Upstanders were honored at our local public library in Montclair, New Jersey, this past December, in a moving celebration called “The Courage to Care.” The event’s title acknowledged that it’s not always easy to take a stand on behalf of what’s right or to extend a hand of kindness and compassion toward others. Often, it’s easier to do nothing. But many young people in my town (as I’m sure is true in your town) decided to take action. For example:

Twelfth grader Zoe Leitner started a non-profit, Chocolate for Charity, that raised thousands of dollars for a local woman’s shelter, a bereavement camp, Holocaust education, and more.

Seventh grader Wells went out of his way to make a new student to our country feel welcomed by bringing him into his friend group and inviting him in their daily outings.

When eleventh grader Anna learned that SNAP benefits for families would be suspended, she organized a food drive at her school, made posters to publicize it, and delivered the collected food to a local food pantry.

Now think about what you might do, or what other young people could do. How might you stand up for others too? And how can you help to spread the word about the importance of Upstanders?

Please take a look at my article, Imagine… on the Skipping Stones website and see if that gives you any ideas.

Dr. Janice Cohn can be reached at janice@drjanicecohn.com  Dr. Cohn has authored several books, including The Christmas Menorahs: How A Town Fought Hate (this 30th Anniversary edition was a winner of the 2025 Skipping Stones Book Awards. You can read a review of the book here).

 

A Longing for Unity in a Fractured Time

A Longing for Unity in a Fractured Time

A meaningful encounter with Swami Vivekananda in Chicago
By Anu Prabhala, Maryland.

With everything unfolding in our nation and across the world, I found myself longing—almost aching—for a message of unity. I have never encountered that idea expressed more beautifully or more boldly than in Swami Vivekananda’s address at the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago in 1893.

What he offered was not a soft call for tolerance, but a radical reimagining of unity itself: unity across religions, yes—but also between science and philosophy, reason and faith, intellect and intuition. His words dissolved borders we insist on keeping rigid—between belief systems, nations, even between what we call perfection and imperfection—revealing them instead as expressions of a single, indivisible truth.

At the heart of his message was a simple yet demanding idea: happiness does not arise from narrowing identity, but from expanding it. As Vivekananda put it, “Happiness comes best from universal consciousness.” And to reach that expansiveness, he insisted, we must loosen our grip on the anxious, isolated self: “To gain universal individuality, this miserable little-person individuality must go.”

More than a century later, the address endures—not only for its philosophical clarity, but for its quiet poetry and moral courage.

Photo: Swami Vivekananda in Chicago, 1893 (handwritten words say, “one infinite pure and holy—beyond thought beyond qualities I bow down to thee”). Credit: The Art Institute of Chicago.

When Two Worlds Quietly Merged:
I felt the full weight of that courage standing in Fullerton Hall at the Art Institute of Chicago, where Swami Vivekananda delivered his world-altering address—just one floor below George Seurat’s Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, one of my favorite paintings of all time. In that moment, two long-standing currents of my life converged: my love of art, particularly French painting, and my grounding in Vedanta, a philosophy that feels like a pair of well-worn jeans: real, practical, comforting, and quietly accepting.

Art and philosophy, France and India, my adopted country and my birthplace—under one roof, they did not compete. They conversed.

That is what happens, I have learned, when we allow the world to shape us: the Self expands to make room for more of humanity, not less.

Humble Rooms, World-Altering Ideas:
The room itself was modest—neither grand nor theatrical. Its restraint felt fitting. History reminds us repeatedly that transformative ideas rarely announce themselves with spectacle. Mahatma Gandhi, a failed lawyer, reshaped a nation. Franz Kafka, an anxious bureaucrat, altered world literature. John Harrison, a self-taught carpenter, solved the longitude problem that changed navigation forever.

Photo: Fullerton Hall’s podium, where Swami Vivekananda delivered his address in 1893.

And Swami Vivekananda—a nearly penniless, 30-year-old monk from India—arrived in America after a long sea voyage to speak at what was then a radical gathering: a Western, Christian, male-dominated Parliament of Religions. His courage lay not just in showing up, but in declaring—without apology—that no single tradition owned the truth.

As he told the audience plainly, “If anyone here hopes that his unity will come by the triumph of any one of the religions and the destruction of the others, to him I say, ‘Brother, yours is an impossible hope.’”

Plurality as Sacred Truth:
For Swami Vivekananda, the universe’s beauty lay precisely in its plurality—in many paths converging toward one reality. He captured this vision with enduring grace:

As the different streams, having their sources in different places, all mingle their waters in the sea… so the different paths which men take all lead to Thee.”

In a world increasingly fractured by certainty and fear, his tone feels almost maternal—firm, reassuring, deeply confident in the human spirit. From his very first words—“Brothers and sisters of America”—he transformed a formal assembly into a human family, drawing a standing ovation that lasted nearly two minutes.

Unity, for him, was not sentimental. It was a moral necessity.

He explained this idea through an image as simple as it was profound: a seed planted in the earth. Surrounded by soil, air, and water, the seed does not become any one of them. It grows according to its own law—assimilating what it needs while remaining true to its nature. So too, he argued, with religion, each tradition must grow in its own way, enriched by others, yet never erased by them. It was this insistence on growth and individuality rather than imitation that gave his words such enduring force.

A Childhood Trained in Coexistence:
His message resonated deeply with my own upbringing in Dadar Parsi Colony in Mumbai, where a Zoroastrian agiary, Hindu temples, and a mosque existed within a few hundred feet of one another. You prayed to your own gods, and then, as children, we came together to play. Coexistence required no explanation.

That innocence was shaken during the Hindu–Muslim riots of the 1990s, when curfews confined us indoors for weeks and fear fractured neighborhoods that had once lived generously with difference. It was my first encounter with how easily love for the divine can be manipulated into division.

That is why Vivekananda’s message feels so urgent today. He reminded the world that faith is not defined by labels, but by a deeply human plea for meaning, reassurance, and strength in moments of vulnerability. Faith, in that sense, speaks a universal language.

He said, “So long as there is such a thing as weakness in the human heart, so long as there is a cry going out of the heart of man in his very weakness, there shall be a faith in God.”

What he seemed to suggest was that true faith is not defined by religious labels at all, but by a deeply human plea—for meaning, for strength, for reassurance in moments of vulnerability. In that sense, faith speaks a universal language, capable of being heard by many names. 

Not Belief, but Becoming:
Vivekananda also offered a quiet corrective: religion, he argued, is not about struggling to believe doctrines, but about realizing truth—about being and becoming. What mattered was not the form of God one worshipped, but the character one cultivated. Did faith enlarge the heart? Did it make room for others? Did it foster harmony?

In his vision, religion was not about believing in God. It was about becoming more fully human—again and again, with tolerance and acceptance at the center of the effort.

Perhaps that is why his words endure. In a fractured world, Vivekananda reminds us that unity is not an idea to defend, but a way of being to practice—and that only through a serene soul can we truly see the beauty of the world, and our place within it.

Let us learn to see beauty in unity. It is the only way humanity sustains itself.

Meaningfully yours,
Anu Prabhala

PS: Swami Vivekananda delivered a series of six speeches between September 11 -27, 1893 at the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago. Read a transcript of all six speeches here. Here’s an audio recording of his first speech (~28 minutes) delivered on September 11th, 1893.

Bio: Anu Prabhala is a senior consulting writer at the World Bank and a former French instructor who has spent her career working with nonprofit organizations in international development. Inspired by Vedanta, her personal writing explores travel and cross-cultural encounters as pathways to understanding beauty, wisdom, and our shared humanity.

This article, reprinted with permission from Anu’s Substack, Imperfectly Perfect, is part of a chapter from her forthcoming travel memoir, Imperfectly Perfect: Love Letters to the World | A Travel Memoir of Beauty, Scars, and the Human Spirit. To stay informed on the publication of the book, you can subscribe to Anu’s Substack at https://imperfectlyperfect.substack.com/subscribe (Subscription is free; choose “no pledge”). 

Poems by Youtao Cao

Poems by Youtao Cao, Age 9, Japan

1. The Sea Keeps Its Own Time

The sea never hurries.
It breathes in slow, patient rhythm—
a pulse older than language,
older than the gulls that cry
over its restless shoulder.

Some mornings it shines like forgiveness,
all silver and soft-spoken.
Other days it roars,
throwing salt and grief against the shore
as if to remind the land
how fragile it really is.

I stand at its edge,
barefoot in the cold sand,
and it tells me nothing—
no secrets, no promises,
just the steady truth of motion:
come and go, come and go.

And maybe that’s enough—
to know that even when I leave,
the sea will still be breathing,
keeping its own time,
unbothered,
endlessly alive.

2. Joy, Unscripted

Joy doesn’t always arrive
with trumpets or fireworks—
sometimes it tiptoes in
soft as breath on a mirror.
It’s not always loud.
Sometimes it’s the silence
after the rain,
when the world smells like hope
and everything feels newly forgiven.
Joy lives
in a cracked joke between friends,
in a song you forgot you loved
playing in a store you weren’t supposed to enter.
It’s in the way your dog looks at you
like you’re the best poem ever written.
It’s that rush
when the sun breaks through gray clouds
and paints gold on your skin.
It’s finishing the last page
of a book that understood you
before you understood yourself.
Joy doesn’t wait
for a perfect moment.
It grows like weeds
between sidewalk cracks—
wild, stubborn, and free.
So maybe joy isn’t a destination.
Maybe it’s the way you walk the road—
barefoot,
arms wide,
laughing at nothing,
and everything.

3. Where the River Thinks

Poetry is the wind through pine,
A hush before the storm,
It carves the cliffs like patient time,
That sets the silence warm.

It’s rain that knows the weight of stone,
A leaf that writes the air,
A spark the mountain keeps alone,
But always longs to share.

It blooms where language loses shape,
Where roots outgrow the ground—
Poetry is nature’s secret tape,
Wound tight, then gently unwound.

4. Sunlit Shore

The waves come dancing, soft and slow,
Their laughter chimes in tones of gold.
The sand remembers every toe—
A map of footsteps, warm and old.
The breeze is sweet with salt and sun,
It hums lullabies to seashells white.
The tide brings gifts at break of dawn—
A starfish, smooth as morning light.
Oh, stretch your hands to catch the sky,
Let summer paint you bright and free.
The ocean sings—just listen nigh—
It’s singing songs of peace and glee.

5. The Birch’s Whisper

Silver light drips through the canopy,
a thousand suns trembling on dewy grass.
The river hums in fractured tongues,
carving secrets into smooth obsidian.
Wind unties the mountains’ knots,
scattering snow like forgotten letters.
A fox pauses in the firelight,
ears twitching to the earth’s slow pulse.
Dawn spills from a cracked acorn,
growing roots where my shadow blurs.
The world exhales—
and I am caught in its breath.

All five poems were written by by Youtao Cao, age 9, Japan. He adds: “I am a multilingual writer currently living in Tokyo, Japan. At home, I speak Chinese. I study in English at an international school and am also learning French and Japanese.
“I have a deep love for reading and writing in English. So far, I have read over 500 English books—more than 100,000 pages in total—and I especially enjoy stories and poems that explore memory, identity, nature, and emotion.”

Art by Youtao Cao, age 9, Japan

A New Year’s Message, 2026

Amma’s New Year Message for 2026

Amma, the world-renowned spiritual teacher and a humanitarian leader from India, shared her thoughts on the current state of humanity as we welcome the new year. Her talk attended by several thousand residents and international visitors at her center in Kerala (South India) was broadcast live on YouTube. She included many illuminating stories and sublime points to help us grow spiritually, and to make our lives better. To conclude her remarks she urged everyone to follow these 12 suggestions, if we are serious about improving ourselves, our family life, and our the world. While she spoke in her native tongue of Malayalam, it was simultaneously translated in several European and Indian languages. We are pleased to share her suggestions (exhortations) with a few minor edits. 

—editor

1. Since time cannot be postponed or carried forward into the future, use it with the utmost care. Create a daily routine and adhere to it as much as possible, with discipline.

2. Write down your personal weaknesses and negative habits on paper. Dedicate one specific day each week to consciously work on overcoming each of them.

3. Strive to be more mature and refined today—at least in one aspect of life—than you were yesterday.

4. Spend a little time each day cultivating awareness of nature. In your imagination, embrace and love all of creation.

5. Awaken the selfless love within you. Let love express itself through you every day. Care for at least one plant with devotion each and every day. 

6. When praise or blame, victory or defeat comes your way, reflect deeply and remind yourself that your true Self transcends all of these.

7. Nurture the virtue of forgiveness. Generously forgive the mistakes of others—and learn to forget them as well. This will help both you and your relationships with others. 

8. Every day, devote at least a short period to performing your actions with complete awareness and presence.

9. Use all natural resources with mindfulness and care. In life, place greater emphasis on what you have been able to give, rather than on what you have received.

10. Cultivate humility and simplicity. Respect the opinions of others and move forward through cooperation and mutual understanding.

11. Meditate on the form of your Guru—your spiritual teacher (if you don’t have one, you can meditate on supreme consciousness or the flame of a candlelight)  for sometime each day. Then remain silent for a while, resting your attention in your own true nature.

12. Cultivate an attitude of gratitude for the blessings you have received in life. Also, learn to accept personal responsibility for your mistakes, sufferings, and losses—what could you have done differently to avoid them?

What we need is not a mind that revels in the little, but a mind that seeks the sublime. Awaken. Elevate yourself. And uplift others as well.

In A Winter Wonderland

In A Winter Wonderland

The winter is here, and there is snow.
I hope for a white Christmas this year.
It’s freezing; the temperature is low.
I want to go outside, but “No, no, no!”
I forgot my jacket, “Oh dear!”
The winter’s here, and there’s snow.
Through the windows I see Christmas trees that glow.
Now is the time of good wishes and cheer.
It’s freezing; the temperature is low.
The winter’s here, and there’s snow.
Sitting inside with hot chocolate, watching a holiday show.
For me, winter is nothing to fear.

By Neila Ebadian, age 11, Washington.