Rounding the Rectangle

A few weeks ago, a friend told my partner that Midland was going to have a commemoration for Gord Downie who died on Oct. 17^th.  The big-hearted frontman of the Tragically Hip had spent the last year and a half of his life working on reconciliation, writing songs and sharing his love with his family, fans and friends. 

Gord Downie is honoured by the Assembly of First Nations (photo: CBC News)

The newspaper gave an itinerary of events for the day long commemoration and so we set off in the pouring rain to Little Lake Park to find the opening event.  Luckily it was held under a long rectangular picnic pavilion with lots of dry space.

Drummers from the Georgian Bay Native Friendship Centre set up near one end of the pavilion and sat in a circle around a large drum that they all played together.  We learned from the elder that the young men drumming had only been learning to drum for a few months but I couldn’t tell that they were beginners.  One man in traditional men’s regalia and a woman in jingle dress regalia danced in a circle around the drummers.

Meanwhile the spectators stood around the edge of the rectangular cement pad in straight lines.  I said to my partner that we should really be in a circle and he immediately got the idea to just move up and round off one of the corners.  Almost immediately, people on the other side rounded off their corner as well. 

The man in traditional men’s regalia spoke about his spirit name and the meaning of his regalia and passed around one of his beaded gauntlets that had flowers, a thunderbird, fire and shells on it.  We were invited to ask questions and people did – about their spirit names, about the regalia and one woman asked about how non-Indigenous people can help.  One of the drummers replied, “The best thing you can do is to learn about what really happened.  Learn about the history that they tried to hide because they know that there was wrongdoing.”  It was explained to us that the drum is for healing as is the jingle dress dance.  One of the drummers explained that this is how they were healing from the wrongdoing. The space between the spectators and the drummers still felt large to me even though the shape was better.  While the drummers and the drum and dancers were in a circle, we the spectators now formed a kind of oval.

Shortly after that, the elder drummer spoke about Gord Downie in a deep low voice that was hard to hear.  So my partner and I stepped closer and the rest of the spectators closed in so that we could all hear what he had to say. Now it felt like we were no longer two groups; onlookers and people conducting a ceremony.  I could feel how we were starting to connect, that we were becoming part of the ceremony.

photo: CBC News

The last dance was a travelling dance and we were all invited to dance in what was now a tight circle.  We danced together, elders, children, youth and adults, step by step and at the end with faced the centre and whooped together.

I imagined Gord Downie, Wicapi Omani (Lakota for Man Who Walks Amongst the Stars), smiling as we danced together. That is what the Downie Wenjak Fund, Gord’s legacy is all about – bringing Indigenous and non-Indigenous people together.

I kept thinking about how the rectangle had become a circle.  I thought about how when we were children we were taught to stand in straight lines, to stay in our place.  I thought about how in our Western worldview time is linear and we move from here to there always “progressing” with unlimited growth.  I thought about how in Indigenous worldview, time is circular or cyclical and so the past is always available to the present and one always has to think about the next seven generations as well as the last seven generations in any decision made.  I thought about how the Western view of progress has brought so much environmental change that now threatens us and how we need to learn how to have a more circular sense of time.  I saw how people who were grieving the passing of Gord had found healing and solace in an ancient tradition because Gord came to value this way of being.  I saw how easily our rectangle became a circle with a little encouragement.  And I thought to myself, “This is the new story that we are writing with our feet, one step at a time.”

And then I took another step and went to thank the drummers and dancers for coming.  Some were happy to shake my hand.  The young boys looked shy and so I just smiled and thanked them.  When I got to the elder, I held out my hand but he opened his arms wide and we gave each other a hug.  The rectangle was rounded until it came down to heart to heart.

A few days later, I listened to an interview on CBC with Gord’s two brothers, Mike and Patrick.  They said that if people really wanted to honour Gord then they can get about the business of reconciliation.  We had taken some small steps in the park in Midland.  The steps we could take, the steps that were in front of us, knowing that they will lead to more steps in the days to come.

In the Eye of a Horse Chestnut

This Reflection was shared with me by a friend and is shared with you with her permission:

Unexpectedly my work day collapsed – 4 out of 6 clients were sick or unavailable.  I had hours to spare,  no book to read and a bus trip hours away--- how to make lemonade out of the day?

I am in a new stage of life, one dream ended as it were, another starting…. I am slowing down my work schedule, no longer pushing the boundaries forward in healthcare.  I continue to work seeing those regular people that I have known for a while, a few new people – especially those that need information/compassion/perspective about their health.  I have lived long enough in the field of lymphedema and life that I can willingly offer this. 

I live in a small city on a lake , a reluctant immigrant in many ways…. All be it I have a home that suits me… big old trees surround, a yard with flower and veggie garden, space to grow, room for my dog, an extra bedroom for visitors and grandchildren, minutes from water and kayak, swim and canoe time. 

I left behind a farm life with the rhythms of the land and the natural world an immediate part of each day.  A barn with chickens, sheep, horses – even some few goats, pigs, turkeys—all needing care and giving so much in return.  Lots of room for dogs and cats, songbirds galore,   the sound of coyotes singing close by on fall nights, stars to light my path , sunrise and sunset to embrace the day.  The shape of the farm life supported my life of raising 4 children, bringing new ways of being in healthcare, responding to difficulties and challenges out of my control with humour, creativity and joy.  The earth was ever present – solid, caring.

In this new phase of my life the sunrise and sunset are hard to find, I have one dog, I look for stars, comfort myself on the water.  My work life is changing , grandchildren are arriving, my mother showing signs of aging with mental loss that comes and goes, wills and pensions topics circle in my head…

I have a good friend close by… and a longtime friend I continue to work with…good neighbours, I am looking for new ways to be creative, try new things and then I am tired… I touch things but do not continue….it seems.  I wonder am I sabotaging myself...

A  chestnut in hand…

I have been wondering how to move forward in this new stage of my life…. What will I choose to carry forward , what can be let go of….? What metaphor/symbol will be mine for this time.

I am in my 6^th decade and lots has happened in the previous decades, good, joyful, difficult, confusing and on… a life is like that.  In this elder time, grandmother time I want to live deeply, from the heart, present and part of all life around.  I want to travel lightly --- like air, the wind that moves in swirls and strength. And I want to access the wisdom I have learned and let go of what is heavy from the past.  My horse Robbie has died and was the final thread from my past way of life.  An evolution time is at hand for me….so many lessons learned through ups and downs…. The lessons’ core to keep, the vehicle to let go for compost….

Recently I attended an art exhibit at the ROM, Anishinaabeg: Art and Power.  My goodness, there was such beauty, and richness in the pieces displayed—paintings, daily objects, ceremonial pieces, video of elders.  What especially moved me was the bead work --- so vibrant and intricate.  For me it was a deep and clear expression of life lived with all creation. The work showed changing times and culture, over two centuries. The Anishinaabeg way of life -- materials and art forms evolved to reflect this.  At times the message was a record of the past values.  The underlying message of interconnection with creation and creator was clear throughout.  The exhibit’s art reflects the profound power of these people and their way of life.  The beauty and wisdom of the Anishinaabeg over centuries was shown alive and growing, transforming in modern times. I spent a long time absorbing the beauty and shape.

Leaving the ROM that fall afternoon my spirit was happy, full and reflective.  I decided to have a snack along Philosophers walk just outside.  As a student at university many decades earlier I had often walked this tree lined path.  As I walked along I noticed an old horse chestnut tree and its ‘conkers’ or spiky seed balls on the ground.  I have always loved these fall treasures.  I collected them throughout my childhood, cautiously picking up the green spiky casings to bring home.  At home I would pry the seams open to reveal one or two nuts of rich mahogany colour inside.  The creamy white underside (where the nut developed from the tree) was at first soft and slippery, and shiny like the rich brown nut.  One story is that the Horse Chestnut tree is so named because these beautiful nuts remind one of the soft depth of a horse’s eye. 

I found one that day, ready to open.  The nut fit perfectly in the palm of my hand to be rolled in my palm and caressed lovingly-- remembering and celebrating again my childhood joy.  As I rolled it over in my hand massaging its slippery fresh creamy surface I was thrilled by the change in the white area.  The area revealed a kind of horse’s eye – circles within circles – depth from outer to inner.  Liquid wisdom in colour and form and for me a connection to my horses, and their gifts.  The delight of my little girl had led me to a discovery and transformation in the moment.

As I held the chestnut in my palm on my subway and bus ride home I realized that this seed carried all the information needed to grow a tree/a new life.  In my hand was what was essential for the path forward.  A small light seed packed with wisdom, travelling with essential wisdom from the mother, beautiful and able to access all that is necessary when needed.  It’s tree mother had already let go of her excess for this season, leaves and conkers on the ground… maybe twigs and branches also. 

 In that moment I realized I’d found a new metaphor for carrying my ‘essential wisdom’ forward.  The horse chestnut seed bringing forward my child to play again and remember what is essential. On Philosopher’s path, I looked up to touch and thank the tree for her seed, wisdom shared and in her trunk another mystery was waiting for me – an ancient bark ‘eye’ embedded in the trunk.  This grandmother tree spirit was watching and waiting to share her gifts with anyone who may be ready to receive . In turn I will take my place in the world watching and ready to share.   Mi-gwetch …

.

Skies of October

Soft, warm, early October night

We find ourselves walking

on the trail

by the lake

in the dark.

Stopping to look through the trees

at the still water mirror,

Our eyes are drawn skyward.

And there,

suspended

over the lake

Is the Big Dipper

Low over the water

Monumental and mythic

As if it was about to swing on its giant axis

And scoop water out of the lake.

My imagination soars and

I can see it all taking place

Water splashing

soaring into the sky

in one long arc

Bringing a drink to the sky dwellers

Backwards rain

Replenishment

Nourishment,

Life.

The Big Dipper, Ursa Major to some

Pointing to the North Star on a freedom walk

Hunters, a fisher and more

The pattern becomes the story,

Rich in meaning and history

Both personal and collective

The stars, our first maps

Leading us home.

But then the sky grows bright

As Grandmother Moon in all her fullness

Rises in the East

Calling us.

And we follow her

Back along the dark trail

To our dock

Where her light shines on the waves of the bay.

Mirrored, rippled, dancing light on the lake

We, entranced by her slow elegant journey

Unable to move,

Sit silent,

Mesmerized,

Filling up.

Days later,

just before a mid-October sunset,

A familiar trilling call catches my ear.

Maybe the local crow family making small talk.

But it gets too loud for them.

The sound pulls my eyes to the sky

Searching for magic,

And I find it

in a huge V

of Sandhill Cranes

A hundred or more.

Wide-winged, long legs trailing,

They fly from the West

On their long autumnal journey.

My hearts burst wide open and

Joins in their flight.

Now, late October

A clear, blue, becoming-yellow dawn

Over another lake and

I am on my way to work but

The light calls me to bear witness

And I take my hot tea to the shore.

The warm lake water

Kisses the cold night air

And gives birth to swirls of mist

That dance and twirl over the water

Like women in gauzy white robes

Dancing with abandon

As if no one was watching.

They make their way eastward

In a line on the soft breeze

To the mouth of the bay

As if greeting the sun.

Dancing in sheer delight

For the morning.

And my heart is delighted,

Lightened, warmed, enlivened

With the beauty of the water

And the air and the fire of the sun.

The skies of October

Have nourished me,

Sustained me,

inspired me,

And reminded me of who I am.

That my story is woven with

The stars and the moon and the sun

For my cells emit photons of light.

And the water of the lake and the sky

Is the same water that flows through me.

The cool night air and the warm breezes

Flow into and out of my lungs.

I am a part of all of this

I am home.

Disturbing the Peace

 Disturbing the Peace (2016) is an award-winning film about Israeli and Palestinian combatants who took part in the generations of armed struggle in the region until something happened to each one of them that allowed them to see the conflict from the others’ point of view.

Through the use of interviews, archival footage and dramatic recreations, each person's story is told.  They relate their first experiences of violence created by the “other side”, the part they played in the armed conflict and the event that changed them forever.  And then the story of how they began to work together for peace unfolds.

Chen Alon is the grandson of a Polish immigrant to Palestine.  The rest of his family were all killed by the Nazis.  “Zionism saved his life,” says Alon who learned to feel that Israel was the only place where Jews can be safe. He remembers being bombed when he was four and joining the Israeli army at age eighteen.  At one point he was confronted by the father of sick Palestinian children at the border were he was on guard while he talked to his wife about his sick daughter on his cell phone.  He suddenly felt a split between himself as a father and as a soldier and realized that there were fathers on both sides of the conflict.

Jamil Oassas talks about the Palestinian people’s journey. “Israel’s creation was our catastrophe,” he says as he tells the story of how the Israeli army invaded his family’s village and took them all away except for his grandfather who refused to leave and was therefore killed.  His family was moved to a refugee camp where they have lived ever since  He remembers the Israeli soldiers in the camp shooting his fourteen year old brother for breaking curfew to visit his uncle next door.  And so Oassas took part in “resisting the occupation.”  Later when many Israeli children were killed by a suicide bomber, his mother was crying because the mothers of those children would go through the same pain as she did.  “Blood is blood.  It doesn’t have two colours,” she said.  This shook him to the core when he realized that mothers were suffering on both sides.

Israeli, Assaf Yacobovitz  worked as a controller of missions that included the dropping of bombs.  He never connected the work he did on his radar screen with the actual reality of who the bombs were being dropped on until one day he saw on TV the destruction caused by the mission he had just been a part of.  He suddenly felt compassion for the people he had killed by being a part of the mission and something changed inside of him.

Shifa al-Qudsi remembers a childhood of seeing the Israeli army killing Palestinians.  She remembers seeing a student killed in front of her house when she was a child.  One day when she was an adult, her daughter came home after seeing a girl killed in front of her.  She describes how she wanted to do something to protect the Palestinian children.  Since there was no Palestinian army, she decided to carry out a suicide attack.  “Our world was a cemetery of the living,” she said.    Before she could carry it out, she was arrested and taken to prison.  She always thought that Israelis were evil but one day a guard’s sibling was killed in a suicide attack and Shifa could see that people were dying on both sides and feel compassion for her captor.

The stories go on an on.  Stories of people who have only seen one side of an armed conflict but then suddenly can see it from the point of view of their previous enemy.  A group of Israeli soldiers including those interviewed in the film, wrote to the Prime Minister of Israel saying that they would protect Israel but they would not patrol the occupied areas or do anything that degraded other human beings.  This became a big story in Israel and there were many people who called them traitors.

At the same time a group of Palestinians who had studied non-violence while being held in prison had been released and were looking for ways to put these new strategies into action.  They invited the Israeli soldiers to come for a meeting.  Although it felt extremely dangerous to these soldiers, they came for the meeting and eventually Combatants for Peace was born.

The first step to build trust for healing was to confess.  Each told their story while sitting in a circle.  They found out that they had something in common:  the willingess to kill people they didn’t know.  But now they all wanted peace.  They started to see things from the other side and in 2006 Combatants for Peace was created.  

Combatants for Peace have worked since then to create alternatives to armed conflict in order to create peace in the Middle East.  They studied non-violence and were inspired by Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela to hold rallies, ceremonies and other public events to present an alternative to their fellow citizens.   “Each time we are creating this alternative of this reality of Israelis and Palestinians communicating with each other, it is a revolution,” one of them says. 

Protest at the wall that divides Israelis and Palestinians included giant puppets.  The two sides met at the wall and ironically, it was the soldiers that were symbolically trapped between the two groups of peaceful protesters.

The approach that each side is the victim and the other side is the perpetrator has to be rethought.  “We are all victims of the conflict and also its creators,” says one member at a rally.  If they are creators of the conflict then they can be creators of peace, is how they now understand the story of the conflict.  On Memorial Day in Israel CFP holds a ceremony to remember the lost lives on both sides of the conflict.

Image from Disturbing the Peace

What keeps them going in the face of ongoing conflict?  They know that if they could change their minds about the conflict then it is possible for others to do so.  They have empathy and compassion for those suffering on both sides and when they feel discouraged, they support each other to keep on going. 

  Although Disturbing the Peace is about what seems to be an intractable conflict, the principles that stand out have a universal truth.  The knowledge that we are connected to one another, compassion, empathy and the strength of community are the arms of these combatants.  The DVD case reads, “DISTURBING THE PEACE is a story of the human potential unleashed when we stop participating in a story that no longer serves us and, with the power of our convictions, take action to create new possibilities.” 

Disturbing the Peace is an example of a new story that is being told and lived and one which can inspire all of us to rethink the stories we tell about conflict.  You can hear some of their members in this youtube video.

Members of Combatants for Peace

Women Wage Peace

Thousands of Israeli and Palestinian women marched across the West Bank and Israel to demand a peace agreement.

After walking for two weeks they arrived in Jerusalem on Oct. 8th, 2017.

“Women Wage Peace” s an Israeli grassroots movement.  Its members span across political and religious spectrums.

The women’s group doesn’t have a particular agenda but wants to get both sides talking again.

Listen to their voices here and you will hear a new story, a story of women listening to each other and working together so that everyone's needs get met.  It may feel like a familiar story to you, one you live each day, not such a new story after all.  But this story is being told in an area of high conflict and that is something new.

With My Own Two Hands

Playing for Change has released it's latest world video called With My Own Two Hands written by Ben Harper as part of a partnership with the international anti-poverty NGO, 

ATD (All Together in Dignity) Fourth World and their #StopPoverty campaign. 

October 17th is the 30th World Day to Overcome Extreme Poverty.  

You can find out more at All Together in Dignity Fourth World.

Check out the video:

 Here are the lyrics by Ben Harper:

I can change the world

with my own two hands

Make a better place, 

with my own two hands

Make a kinder place,

with my own two hands

With my own, with my own two hands

With my own, with my own two hands

I can make peace on earth, 

with my own two hands

And I can clean up the earth, 

with my own two hands

And I can reach out to you, 

with my own two hands

With my own, with my own two hands

With my own, with my own two hands

I’m gonna make it a brighter place, with my own two hands

I’m gonna make it a safer place, with my own two hands

I’m gonna help the human race, with my own two hands

With my own, with my own two hands

With my own, with my own two hands

Now I can hold you with my own two hands

And I can comfort you with my own two hands

But you’ve got to use, use your own two hands

Use your own, use your own two hands

Use your own, use your own two hands

What can you do with your own two hands?  There are stories of what other people are doing on the All Together with Dignity (ATD) website.  You can be a part of this story too.

Thanksgiving in the Woods

It is Thanksgiving weekend and I am walking in one of my favourite areas, Grant’s Woods, near Orillia, Ontario.  This land was owned and loved by the Grant family for over a century before it was donated for to the Couchiching Conservancy for public visits.  It was not “logged” like most of the land in the area and so there are huge old growth white pines, red oaks, beeches and sugar maples throughout the forest like grandparents and great grandparents of the smaller, younger trees and tiny saplings.  It takes three people holding hands to encircle some of the trees and I usually bring my attention up into the canopy, straining to see the tops entwined with each other.

Wild Ginger leaves

But today, the ground feels spongy beneath my feet and I bring my awareness to the earth and what is beneath me.  As I look to the forest floor I see the abundant, dark green, heart-shape leaves of the wild ginger.  My thoughts are sent below the surface to their gingery-smelling roots.  I am instantly surprised at the feeling of energy building below the surface, in the roots of the trees, shrubs, and plants that surround me.  “Of course”, my left, rational brain declares, “they are all storing sugars in their                                                                                       roots in preparation for                                                                                         winter.”

As often happens in the woods, I try to apply what the forest teaches me, to my own life.  My partner and I are in the autumns of our lives.  We are in the process of sorting out memories of decades of life, deciding what to store and what to let go of so that we are not burdened by the weight of life as we move forward.  The image of storing one’s sugars in the roots makes sense.  We can store the wisdom of our life experiences as roots do, wisdom and knowledge that can be drawn on whenever necessary.  Past experiences don’t need to buzz around our heads as unresolved conflicts or burden our hearts as unhealed pain.  The leaves that generated the sugar from photosynthesis will fall away, like the experiences themselves.  But we can take the sugar, the wisdom from them and store that.

As I continue to walk, I can feel all that reserve, that energy below me and I think again of how we access knowledge, wisdom.  We search out facts on-line and listen to the news and other people.  But the earth holds much wisdom in the stones, the roots, the soil and the networks that exist within it, that we can access whenever needed.  We simply need to pay attention, listen and be grateful.  We don’t need to pack our heads full of fears and possibilities that distract us from the present moment.  We can walk on the earth and learn what is needed on a daily basis.  I remember a piece of poetry from a book I am currently reading entitled, If Women Rose Rooted by Sharon Blackie.  The poem is by Rainer Maria Rilke and in part says,

If we surrendered

To earth’s intelligence

We could rise up rooted, like trees.

I walk gently on the earth, stopping to touch giant trees as I go, trying to soak up, to breath in, the intelligence all around me and I do feel stronger, more rooted, calmer.   And for this, I am truly thankful.