We Are All Immigrants

We are all immigrants here.

Now, before you stop me with the reminder that the indigenous people of America are not immigrants, I want to say, even they are immigrants.

We are all here from somewhere else.

We are all temporary caretakers of the earth.

We came from the spiritual realm, whatever we conceive that to be, and will return to it.

I have lived in my home for 40 years, moving in on Fourth of July weekend in 1986. It feels so permanent! But this summer, I met one of the “boys” who grew up in the house before I moved in. Together, we toured his boyhood home, and he told stories of growing up in the house that I now occupy.

It was a reminder that no matter how permanent this home feels right now, one day I will walk out of it, either to another house nearer to my children and grandchildren, or to a care center, or to a cemetery.

We are all immigrants here.

We came from somewhere and will return to that place. This false idea that we own this land is a barrier to our spiritual growth. There is nowhere in spiritual literature anywhere in the world that advises us to hoard this land and stop others from occupying it. Political structures tell us to hoard and protect it. Religious enclaves advise us to hoard and protect it. Commercial enterprises tell us to hoard it and abuse it and get all we can out of it.

But nowhere in our spiritual literature are we advised to do those things.

Steward it, yes.

Share it, yes.

Enjoy its beauty, grace, sustenance and wonder, yes.

But possessing it and defending it against others who want to share it with us? Nowhere in spiritual literature does that advice appear.

So let us not worry about what politicians, warring religious tribes, or captains of commerce tell us about immigration. They themselves are immigrants who will no longer be here in 20 or 40 or 60 years. They will have moved on to another place, the place they immigrated from.

Our spiritual invitation is an invitation to love and to open ourselves to others. Period.

Cut a bouquet of flowers from your garden and take it to Malachi House. Share your garden produce with the neighbors. Give someone a ride across town. Open your door to someone who needs temporary shelter, a shoulder to cry on or – as happened to me – someone who needed
a walk down memory lane.

Let’s take action where we can globally, but let us not forget to act locally, knowing that we are all immigrants here whose main purpose is to welcome all other immigrants into our world. ~Syndie Eardly