Tag Archives: peace

Associations

Cold, windy and biting is an accurate description of the weather on the day I visit the post office. To protect my ears and neck from the wily and brutal winds outside, I have bundled up in one of my extra-long headscarves. With bright red, wind-chapped cheeks and a frozen nose, I imagine I am quite a sight after a full, four-mile walk.

Spirituality

Moving from the expansive post-office foyer into the line for counter service, I attempt to warm my stiff, cold and almost immoveable hands as I try to remove my gloves. Having crossed the threshold into the warmer counter-for-service area, I observe a postal worker shift through a series of complex body postures as he sees me entering the line.

Initially, he is merely doing his job. Then, as he notices me entering the line, I observe his body stiffen, until he is standing ram-rod straight—rigid. All of his working movements become uncomfortably tense and robotic.

With my fingers slowly thawing, I search my mind for a possible reason why my appearance in line would cause this worker so much discomfort.  Reaching up to unwind my headscarf, memories of living within an international, graduate-school housing community come flooding in.

It was while my husband was in graduate school and we were in university graduate apartments that, to my amazement and for the first (and only) time in my recollection, I qualified as something of a head-turner—but only among men of near-Middle-Eastern or Middle-Eastern origin. I consider the fact that, in terms of visual presentation, I am equally at home at a Greek dance party, a Sufi zhikr or a Jewish celebration.

Parallel to the unwinding of my headscarf, I observe the rigid tension melting out of this man’s body. With my long scarf now resting down the full length of my coat, I consider the fact that former military personnel are awarded extra points on the civil service examinations required of all postal workers, points which civilian test-takers must earn through extra high scores. Perhaps this man has seen active duty in the military.

What an odd encounter. We have not met. We have not spoken. And, yet, through whatever internalized, experiential markers this man carries within him, I was most certainly perceived as an uncomfortable form of “Other.” No matter what my mind postulates, my heart feels a deep sorrow for this man because my own experiences as a guest among Middle-Eastern peoples has given me a completely different set of positive, internalized social markers.

In travelling internationally, what I have learned is this. Among persons who are authentic seekers of a better life and who remain focused on the greater good, our greatest human concerns have to do with the love and respect we hold for one another in the context of family, as well as the desire for a better, safer world for our children. It is that simple.

A House with Children

Walking the dogs through the neighborhood, I appreciate the street’s quiet and fresh air. The dogs and I meet a rare vehicle or two. There is only moderate foot traffic and a few bicycles here and there. Most everyone waves or nods a hello.

What causes the most noise in our neighborhood is what happens domestically in and around the edges of houses. This particular neighborhood suffers terribly from the noise, static and discordant sounds of a multitude of voices in inefficient and angry communication with one another. There are words of harshness, betrayal and abuse.

When we first moved into this region, we had come from the American Southwest where the code of ethics among certain local First-Nation peoples required that extra attention be paid to the issue of speech because, it is believed, a person has the power to talk things into being.

There is also one First-Nation group that follows a no-gossip policy because it is considered unethical to talk about anything which one has not witnessed directly; and, if one has witnessed something, that “something” should not be talked about unless the witness is asked to report about it directly.

Thus, unbeknownst to us at the time, we had spent a full five years—de facto—living in a community which was like an exclusive monastic retreat . This unique culture around speech invited us to reassess our own habituated and inefficient patterns of communication. Thus, on some days in our new location, it seems as though we are growing quieter while the neighborhood around us grows louder.

Spirituality
Spirituality

One day among my many walks stands out above all others, while reveling in the beauty of the weather, breathing deeply and walking with my dogs, I witness two young children come running out of a house into the middle of a quiet street crossing.

There is a lot of shouting coming from the front door that has swung open as a result of the children’s departure. Fear and terror are in the eyes of the older boy. The younger boy has opted out emotionally, working to file this event away somewhere in his clay-like psyche rather than deal with it.  How can he?  The older boy, perhaps six years of age, approaches me. Fear having taken his words away.

“Do you need some help?” I ask him, not really knowing what else to say or do.

He nods at me, still mute with fear.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

I feel that calm stillness that accompanies me when I am in alignment. So, I decide to proceed to the house with the dogs beside me.

Stepping onto the porch with both dogs, I witness a huge man through the open door. He is perhaps two-hundred and eighty pounds, pinned on the floor of the living room with another huge man and a leaner woman  both on top of the downed man, pummeling the downed man with closed fists and shouting about how the downed man “needs to get his sh*t” out of the house.  An issue regarding rent or living circumstances might be involved. (This is surmised conjecture.)

“Do you folks need some help?” I ask from the open doorway, being careful not to step over the threshold.

For a moment the physical assault stops. The pummeling stops long enough for the man under attack to be able to right himself and run to the back of the house with the other two individuals in close pursuit while the verbal assault continues. At this point, I leave the porch to reenter the street where the older boy is waiting.

“I am sorry that I cannot do more than that,” I tell him. He nods in silence.

The large man under siege is now out of the house and in the process of leaving in his car. The emotion around the incident hangs in the air.

I begin the walk away from the house with my dogs, leaving the violent, confusing, irrational, raw emotion that permeates those people, their circumstances, the house and its vicinity. Calmness returns to me again.

People. Things. Things. People. “People and their sh*t,” as they say. When will we learn to bring our calm, adult Selves to the table?

Perhaps it is unethical for me to report this to you. I have considered that. You did not ask me about my walk on that day or the status of things in parts of my extended neighborhood.

I tell you about this experience because there were children involved—there are children involved. 

We, as human beings, still need a lot of help with basic communication skills, learning how to read and understand our emotions, as well as how to address uncomfortable circumstances and unethical behaviors with diplomacy. We need help with ethics and peace, because there are always children involved-watching and learning.