A review in quotes and poem snippets from this lovely and timely (still) meditation on so much that is painful in the world:
"NEW FACE
I have learned
Not to worry About love:
But to honor
Its coming
With all my heart."
"A SHORT WHILE AGO I published a small book called Overcoming Speechlessness: A Poet Encounters The Horror in Rwanda, Eastern Congo, and Palestine/Israel. In it I write that the horrors of the world are so great, and have been for such a long time, that most humans have no words for them. That we become speechless before atrocities done to other humans, to animals, and to the Earth itself because it is almost impossible to believe what we are witnessing. I have spent a lifetime finding and using my voice, so easily silenced as a young person by the overwhelm of grief. Looking back, I see that claiming my voice, asserting it in writing, became a practice that in many ways saved me. Saved me from despair, from hopelessness, from total and complete withdrawal, emotionally, from other human beings. Those human beings I knew, and those I did not know."
"For it is true, an inner discipline of the spirit develops the character that is then visible to others in our behavior, but it is also true that "acting as if" also works; which is to say, conscious development of our outer, discernable behavior, in a direction that we desire, also has the power to move us along. This truth may well be discovered as one goes along in life, but how much more useful to have someone teaching it when one is young."
"I used to think the most important thing about love was to receive it. Now I understand it is more important to feel and to give it. That the good feeling we associate with love is generated by us, not by a lover of us. Their love is very nice, and I welcome it, but the feeling of actually generating love within one's self is so exquisite it almost leaves being loved by another in the dust! My greatest joy comes from loving everything and everyone I can. And it is amazing how big this can get! Daffodils, coconuts, frogs, catamarans, indie movies, dogs, bougainvillea, tribal art, snowstorms, old people, the Alps, chickens, my various "children," regardless of what they think of me, and so on."
"When I was a child I read books for entertainment and information; I now think of books as lifeboats. Each book that comes rushing down the stream of my life is checked for its relevance to our survival and prospering as a species. For the use to which Earthlings, and all beings, might put our incredible intelligence to save our tiny, sinkable, ship."
"This must be the same blind heart and unseeing gaze that was turned on the slave trade, during its four horrendous centuries, when black people coming to America on slave ships were treated as cruelly as these hogs, their lives often eaten up by forced labor within as little as seven years. What have we turned off in ourselves to be able to bear the mistreatment of the precious other animals that inhabit the planet with us? The carnage, in this one case, is so bad that the countryside around the facility is completely, densely polluted, and the people who live there are sick. The freeing of animals, the returning of land and habitat to them, must become part of what it means to be human. Part of what it means to be animal. Without the other animals the land is dead in spirit, as it is dead in spirit when indigenous human life is removed from it. Find the Human Sunrise that love of animals draws you to, and stay close to it, for that is the way of a future without self-deception and shame. Always remember that there is nothing too small any of us can learn to do to help us out of our predicament, and that learning to extend the range of our compassion is activity and work available to all. If we are open to it, we will be taught by masters."
"Use the rocks, the bones of the ancestors to hold the photographs in place. Light your candles, place them on either side of the photographs. Light sage or incense and smudge each other. And now, in whatever way Spirit moves, facing Ocean, speak.
Mother Ocean is so immense that she touches every shore; She can accept your tears, they are of her substance, and She can hold them.
After speaking, return to silence. Burn the photographs. Sabo's first, in gratitude for having been spared his life and his fate; Governor Ridge's next, in joy that your descendants will never need to remember you as someone who wished to kill, or who actually did kill, the Be-loved. Then burn Mumia's and Leonard's photographs together, reminding us that those who work for justice are seldom without allies.
Bless these ashes, all of which are made holy by your love and your restraint, and send them out to sea. Ask the children to let their flowers accompany them. When your ceremony is finished, hopefully at sun-set, sit on the sand, facing the ocean, and share the oranges, symbolic of the sun that those in prison rarely see; a sun so generous in its nature that men have had to build prisons to hide other men away from it. Go home, gather around a good, light meal, no part of which was tortured or enslaved. Answer every child's questions thoroughly and with patience."
"WE CAN OFFER WHAT WE ARE
Headed to Gaza With
CODEPINK
FEBRUARY 20, 2009
DURING THE RECENT RUTHLESS ASSAULT on the people of Gaza when so many people were injured or murdered, I lost my own sister; she had been ill for many years. The loss of this one person, whose death was anticipated, was such a blow, that when I considered the losses to the people of Gaza-of mothers, children, fathers, brothers, uncles, cousins, and friends, I wondered how the anguish of so much tragic loss could be sustained. Housing, hospitals, nurseries, libraries, schools were also lost. Surely the blow to the human spirit would be intolerable for many, and there would seem little reason for continuing to live.
Going to Gaza is our opportunity (my partner Garrett Kaleo Larson's and mine) to express solidarity with the people there. To demonstrate the concern we feel each day for the suffering endured. To remind the people of Gaza and ourselves that we belong to the same world: the world where grief is not only acknowledged, but shared; where we see injustice and call it by its name; where we see suffering and know the one who stands and sees is also harmed, but not nearly so much as the one who stands and sees and says and does nothing. We can bring our witness, one of life's strongest gifts, as others have come to our side, witnessing our struggle, when life appeared impossible to bear. When all is lost, or nearly lost, tenderness remains, or could. We can offer what we are."
"The world is, at last, finding its voice about everything that harms it. In this sense the twin teachers of catastrophic climate change (some of it caused by war) and the Internet have arrived to awaken the voice of even the most silenced. Though the horror of what we are witnessing in places like Rwanda and Congo and Burma and Israel/Palestine threatens our very ability to speak, we will speak. And, because almost everyone on the planet now acknowledges our collective slide into global disaster unless we profoundly change our ways, we will be heard."