Conducted by Devin Zuckerman, a Postdoctoral Research Associate at the Contemplative Sciences Center.

JCS: So, let’s begin with the first question: What is contemplation?

YC: I come from a village called El Paraíso Coelhá, which translates to “the wonderlands of flowing waters” or “the flowing spring,” in the highlands of the cloud forests of Chiapas, Mexico. The land itself holds deep memories for me, of family, traditions, a network of droplets, life experiences. My early life was shaped by these flowing waters, and their imagery resonates with metaphors that often broadly express what concepts narrowly do.

The spring, the source where water first emerges, births the first drops into a pond, a creek, a rivulet, and eventually into a river, quenching the thirst of lands. But before the spring appears, water has already traveled a long journey through the underground, filtered and purified through the porosity of the rock, until the Mother Mountain guides it to the surface. This journey tells me a story about contemplation—a journey through the waters of sense making from the first drops of the senses’ underground toward the surface of awareness.

Contemplation implies an acknowledgment of the mysterious, often concealed journey that brings meaning to fruition.

Contemplation, to me, is a similar fluid process: perhaps on first contact, the appearance of the spring, the reflections of the light upon its mirror, the gargling of its song, the freshness of its waters on our lips may be what draws the imagination in; but there is a long process beforehand, a hidden journey of purification we don’t always perceive. This metaphor, I believe, reflects the nature of lived experience—how we sense, observe, and make sense of phenomena, and how experiences emerge from both seen and unseen processes. Contemplation implies an acknowledgment of the mysterious, often concealed journey that brings meaning to fruition.

In this way, contemplation is necessarily nonlinear. While there is acuity of a process unfolding, it is simultaneous and intraconnected with other experiences that birth its form. The spring doesn’t exist in isolation; it’s part of the lands (mountains, rocks) in an entire ecosystem. Similarly, contemplation cannot be separated from the broader context in which it arises.

This leads me to reflect on the concept of first-person experience in Contemplative Studies. I believe this focus can be limited since it centers on the individual’s experience in isolation. From an Indigenous global consensus perspective, the self is understood as deeply inter- and intraconnected in the world. Our experiences are not our own but part of a relational process, involving all phenomena. The spring illustrates this intertwining. 

Since our experiences are shaped by relations, the focus on the individual alone misses the warp and weft. Colonization and its origins in mythologies of domination has taught us to see the world fragmented, separated, isolated from conditions and their causes, and more broadly from lands, each other, and our histories. When we assume that the interconnected pieces are individual, we lose the essence of our relationality. In Contemplative Studies, there’s a tendency to overemphasize individuality, which can perpetuate colonial ways of thinking. On the contrary, contemplation requires the recognition of a dialectical, second-person experience claiming a relentless uttermost skillful engagement in the world while an identification and reification of individuality is averted.

An overemphasis on individuality ingrains colonial ideas not only about the exceptionality of the individual but also of humans, leading to hierarchical Anthropocene beliefs, which can lead to systems that continue to perpetuate harm to our environment. While the most prominent focus in Contemplative Studies is the analysis of first-person experience, I argue that an emphasis in the study of critical second-person experience—the relational aspect of contemplation—would be vital toward future pathways of the field. 

 An emphasis in the study of critical second-person experience—the relational aspect of contemplation—would be vital toward future pathways of the field. 

As we push to shape the field of Contemplative Studies into something more contemporary and diverse, multi- and intradisciplinary, we must also reckon with the horrors of history that brought us to this deep delusion of separation. What’s at stake is not just the future of Contemplative Studies but also the future of life on this planet. We must come to terms with our fundamental relational nature, and the harms committed against it. If we don’t, we will continue to repeat the same harmful stories that have wounded us to these collective injuries.

I warned you that it was going to get a little cosmic.

JCS: Wow, what a wonderful and complex answer with so many layers. I feel like I’m holding a jewel in my hand, turning it around, and seeing all the different facets of the question, “What is contemplation?” And your response starts to touch on our second question as well. That second question is: How is contemplation relevant to your research?

YC: It is hard for me to adopt the identity of researcher, because I have engaged in humanitarian work for two decades, and I am only recently formally in academia with very transient and uncertain futures. I am currently a hungry postdoc pushing for representation and fumbling to find ways to conduct my dream exploration of Indigenous ways of contemplation and make a space for them in Contemplative Studies. I guess I inhabit liminal spaces as an outsider since childhood. It is helpful because it allows me to protest for what has been severed, left behind, or left for dead, but it can be exhausting, frustrating, and disenchanting.

I started telling you the story of Coelhá, the “Wonderland of Flowing Springs,” because it brings me back to my traditional lifeways and to formative experiences of dealing with life struggles through reverence and love. I know this is going to sound cliché, but it reminds me of conversing with my Elders, beautifully contemplative beings who engaged in keen observation and insight of relationality. Those early collective experiences shaped how I engage in my inquiry and how intentional is my behavior for the wellbeing of our shared home.

 This is not only my research; it is my life…

I realize now that this has been my spiritual commitment to planetary collective wellbeing. In my native language, Maya Tseltal, we may call this ch’ul jkanan or “stewarding the sacred,” or Kanan k’inalat—“protecting Mother Earth.” From this perspective, all phenomena are carrying and conducting Spirit—storms, skies, rocks, waters, elements, and so on—and they manifest the cosmic network. Spirit is what births relationships. This is a fundamental truth of our traditional contemplative lifeways. 

That is to say that this is not only my research; it is my life. It is a way of living, a way of approaching every aspect of your existence. It shapes purpose, responsibility, and it brings forth the unique role in conducting collective flourishing. The smallness of the drop echoes the concentric circles forming in its union with the pond. Their kissing sounds makes all the difference.

Upon encountering the field as an emerging scholar, about two decades ago, I felt a responsibility to bring forward those childhood voices, which had no representation whatsoever at the time. No one was talking about Indigeneity—it wasn’t as widely recognized as it is now. It took me a long time to get people to listen. Even today, I hear things like, “Oh, Indigenous contemplation? That belongs in Indigenous Studies, or Native American Studies, or Ethnic Studies, or Anthropology—but not Contemplative Studies.” I’ve heard that from leaders in the field time and again. But I keep insisting, persisting, and persevering . . . and keep getting up, if only a tad more bruised.

It is frustrating to hear the dismissal of the field’s leadership. I took it upon myself to build bridges while staying true to my own voice while also expressing it in a way that makes sense to Contemplative Studies and to the West. While I still face tons of challenges, I now hear echoes of my ideas everywhere. Nature-based contemplation, ecological belonging, and relationality are such popular topics now, and that’s great because that’s exactly where we need to go. That’s what I hoped for—the prominence of relationality, system awareness, planetary flourishing, not just human flourishing.

I now hear echoes of my ideas everywhere. Nature-based contemplation, ecological belonging, and relationality… That’s what I hoped for—the prominence of relationality, system awareness, planetary flourishing, not just human flourishing.

JCS: I love that. I hear in your answer actually a better version of the question, something more like: How is contemplation and research relevant to life, to a whole life? And in your case, it’s really about your entire life. I really appreciate that.

Also, just to touch on this last note about the changes you’re seeing in the field—I want to ask our next question, which is: What excites you about future directions in the study of contemplation? I’m really curious to hear your thoughts on this. But I also want to make space to honor the critique of Contemplative Studies as it stands now, especially in light of what you’ve mentioned about hearing from leadership in Contemplative Studies, the idea that Indigenous Contemplative Sciences belong under Indigenous Studies or Native American Studies, but not Contemplative Sciences itself—I just want to make space to acknowledge that important critical perspective.

YC: The struggle for belonging for Indigenous Contemplative Sciences has been present from my early steps. Long ago, I put together a retreat in Chiapas, where I am from, for Indigenous contemplation around compassion with local communities. I put together this program with the ideas I was developing. When I was looking for funding support, the donors said they would back my project only if I used their Buddhist compassion program, not my own. Without hesitation, I rejected their request and ended up financing the retreat myself, because what I want to elevate is the wisdom of Indigenous sciences. I have been called a simpleton because I stick to my principles; and surely, I am one. And yet I believe donors would benefit from being culturally humble and curious about the rationale of my work. Who knows, maybe some would come around to supporting it.

On another occasion, I organized the first-ever panel on Indigenous Contemplative Sciences at American Academy of Religion (AAR). Understandably, I wanted to make it a cosponsored session between the Indigenous Religious Traditions Unit and the Contemplative Studies Unit, but the latter declined, saying it was not relevant to the field. I still (respectfully) roll my eyes about the refusal, but navel-gazing has been the norm in the field. These are just examples of how challenging it has been to bring Indigenous perspectives into Contemplative Studies.

The struggle for belonging for Indigenous Contemplative Sciences has been present from my early steps.

Eventually, prompting my full suspension of disbelief, I was invited to be part of the steering committee of AAR’s Contemplative Studies Unit. Even with that, I still struggle to belong, and my contributions are not fully embraced. My suggestions continue to be pushed aside. Recently, I proposed a paper on Indigenous perspectives on transcendence, and the feedback was, “That’s great for Indigenous Studies.” It is as if the field still resists to see beyond its own navel, not culturally humble enough to consider other forms of contemplation outside its origins.

I am glad you are bringing this series together. I hope it stirs some new ideas and makes some waves to carry us through this ocean of awareness. The mindfulness movement has taken over industry, academia, the workplace, judicial systems, even the military—it is everywhere. And yet one of its greatest blind spots is its centeredness on the wellbeing of the individual and not on how we can benefit the planet. But that is coming up, as it is at the core of many Indigenous contemplative traditions, which emphasize collective wellbeing.

It is vital that the field centers sustainable collective wellbeing and moves onward that direction. We must also incorporate positions on social and environmental justice, which have been sidelined because of the complexity and activism involved in those areas. I have heard leadership avoid these topics, alleging a lack of relevance to Contemplative Studies or perhaps because of their messiness. As we know, contemplation is a transformative process, and for that very nature it sheds light onto and attempts to alleviate the causes and conditions that perpetuate systems of oppression and abuse. Otherwise, we risk spiritual bypassing, thinking we’re doing well because we disengage from the dreads of the world, yet not creating actual change.

Contemplation is a transformative process, and for that very nature it sheds light onto and attempts to alleviate the causes and conditions that perpetuate systems of oppression and abuse. Otherwise, we risk spiritual bypassing, thinking we’re doing well because we disengage from the dreads of the world, yet not creating actual change.

JCS: Thank you. So then, maybe if it doesn’t feel right to answer the question, what excites you about the future directions of the study of contemplation, I’m curious, what are your hopes for the field?

YC: The future of the field does excite me! It excites me that there are voices coming forward with ideas of diversity, who want to engage with these challenging questions. We can see the urgency clearly now. What excites me is the growing interest in collective leadership, as opposed to the “sage on the stage” model. It is exciting that we can have dialogues to welcome curiosity of diverse perspectives to reorient our paths and move together a little further to advance the healing of our planet. There is no better time to engage with these inquiries. There has never been a more fertile moment to affect the world for the better. Being upset or frustrated does not entail a lack of enthusiasm for the field. Strong emotions are fuel for skillful action. 

JCS: Beautiful, yes! So our last question is, do you have a favorite book in Contemplative Studies, or a book you’d like to recommend?

YC: Absolutely! I am excited to share with you that my very first book is released on November 19, by Sounds True. It is called Flourishing Kin: Indigenous Wisdom for Collective Wellbeing.

Since you are the Contemplative Sciences Center, let me tell you that I wanted the subtitle to be “Indigenous Contemplation for Collective Wellbeing,” but the editor said “contemplation” was a little too niche of a word for a trade book. In any case, the book really is about contemplation. Although I had to make compromises to the text to make it more accessible to a wider audience, I still feel I was able to convey some key ideas. For example, what it means and how to use the term “Indigenous” as referred to in the international political arena. A common misconception is that we all are indigenous from somewhere. I have heard this said even by people that have no relation to an Indigenous tribe and no history of colonization in their homelands. To me, it is crucial to offer some clarity about the meaning and correct usage of this term. I go into aspects of collective wellbeing, arranged according to eight principles.

I am really excited about the book, and terrified. There is a common figure of speech that says: “No one is a golden coin to be liked by everyone.” Very wise. We will always get some aspects wrong, no matter how good our intentions. This vulnerable position ripens our humility and cracks our hearts wide open. 

 It excites me that there are voices coming forward with ideas of diversity, who want to engage with these challenging questions.

JCS:  Well, I’m so excited to read it and teach it in my classes. I saw the title pop up on your website, and I’ve been eagerly anticipating its release date.

YC: It is going to be out right for the AAR Conference.

JCS: Cool—then I’ll be able to get my copy signed when I see you at AAR, yeah?

YC: Yes!