Dearest Friends,

In the last four weeks, many of you have reached out to express your care, love and concern given the upheavals caused by the closure of Banyan’s mindful friends groups and guided meditations. Some of this concern has been voiced as a gentle (and much-needed!) reminder that the burden of rescuing Banyan doesn’t rest on my shoulders alone and that I can ease the pressure I’ve piled on myself.

In reflecting on this reminder, it occurred to me that my inability to “stay in my own lane”—at least where the Banyan sangha is concerned—is rooted in what Filipinos refer to as utang na loob. Literally translated as “debt of the heart,” this deeply cherished value refers to the debt that one owes as a result of having received the aid, kindness or support of another.

The use of the word “debt” is somewhat problematic because utang na loob is not a timebound obligation that one settles conclusively in the manner of a transactional repayment. Instead, it’s a lifelong bond that sustains and deepens relationships through ongoing reciprocity—especially when the benefactor most needs support. Utang na loob lies at the heart of Filipino familial, communal and social ties: It’s the thread that weaves enduring alliances of mutual trust, support and obligation…and it’s the fabric that ensures that none of us face precarity alone (especially when institutional systems fail).  

Of course, utang na loob has its shadow sides (as do many cultural values). It’s not unique to Filipinos either; the Chinese have renqing, the Japanese have giri, Latin Americans have compadrazgo, Native American have gift economies and West Africans have ubuntu. Across these traditions, gratitude is the natural impulse of a heart that understands that the debt it carries can never be repaid—only perpetually honored.

Like many cultural values, utang na loob doesn’t square well with the logic of individualistic systems that center self-autonomy, individual goals and personal boundaries. I saw this clearly in my recent struggles to navigate the tensions posed by the gratitude I owe to Banyan (the enterprise), the gratitude I owe to my students…and the care I also owe to myself. What made the process so morally injurious was the dawning realization that I couldn’t fulfill my obligations to all parties at the same time—obligations that individualist systems label somewhat dismissively as “conflicts of interest” that need to be “managed.”

In the end, I was rescued by the very sangha I sought to save. These flimsy rafts that we’ve assembled with the planks of mindfulness, compassion and wisdom have been kept together by the bonds we’ve forged over years spent in community. I don’t know what lies ahead in the horizon—but I do know that we can brave these stormy seas simply because we’re together.

SUGGESTED PRACTICE:

Sit quietly and attend to your breath. Remember someone who’s offered you care, kindness or guidance. Notice how your body responds as you recall their presence. With each inhale, receive their care; with each exhale, offer them gratitude. Imagine the breath as a thread weaving between you. Then over time, envision these threads extending outward—connecting you with family, friends, community…and the entire web of being. Let yourself feel held by this web of mutual support. Notice how it offers a refuge even in times of precarity. Close with the reminder: “Gratitude is not a debt to be repaid, but a bond to be honored.” Carry this with you into your day.

REFLECTION PROMPTS:

1. What arises for you when you relate to gratitude as an ongoing commitment to nurture a relationship rather than as a timebound obligation to be settled?
2. Where have your obligations of gratitude conflicted with your responsibilities to yourself or others? How might you hold these tensions with awareness, compassion and wisdom?
3. How do the webs of mutual support in your life help you face instability, precarity or uncertainty? How might you strengthen these bonds further over time?