A River of Life

Today’s Reflection is about an activity, about a way of looking at one’s life, and perhaps also about our collective future. 

Who are you? Who is anybody really? How do we know an answer to such a tricky and seemingly impossible question?

A River of Life is a metaphor I recently used, in an introduction activity with a group of new students coming to Bainbridge Graduate Institute (www.bgi.edu). While I have used this activity many times in the past, I described it differently this time; different words came out as the way to articulate one’s life journey. Furthermore, if we are a sum total of our experiences, then such a process provides a glimpse into who a person is. This activity, and subsequent conversations, brought a lot more thoughts with it.

“The Universe operates on a basic principle of economics: everything has its cost. We pay to create our future, we pay for the mistakes of the past. We pay for every change we make... And we pay just as dearly if we refuse to change.”

I can look at my own life as a river, with periods of quiet, gentle, and peaceful water, running its course downstream. That river also has rapids, big and small, and periods of turbulent white water, rocks, and stormy weather. The river is deafening, vibrant (almost violent perhaps), and stretches to the extreme the skills – and luck – of one going down in these turbulent white waters.

Using this metaphor to one’s life, and looking at the significant moments of growth and learning for me, I know that the quiet and gentle parts are both pleasant and valuable in one’s life. This is where I get to relax, observe the view, rest, and integrate the learning from overcoming the last set of rapids. Yet, this is not where the real growth and transformation occurs. For that, we need rapids in our river. Rapids that will force us to the extreme, challenge every aspect and part of us, and stretch us to our full capacity. Sometimes, beyond. I know that this is how my life has been flowing, as this River of Life. And, I know that my most valuable learning moments, ones that I remember to this day, came from those seemingly impassable rapids. Perhaps it is indeed a “no pain, no gain” way of the River of Life.
 
“After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, and so on -- have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear -- what remains? Nature remains.” - Walt Whitman
When I think about expanding the scope, this is where things get both scary and interesting. What if the same metaphor applies to us all, collectively, as a human species? Our human river of collective lives, our history through time.

We have been crossing more and more rapids, that seem to become bigger and more turbulent. From 9/11, to Katrina, to BP oil spill, to many others that I am forgetting right now. We humans seem to go through the rapids, shift our course and behaviour for a while, and then forget. Life takes over, and we go back to our more-of-the-same behaviour, forgetting the lessons, the learning, and the implications of not correcting our course. And the cycle repeats itself, only the rapids are becoming bigger, stronger, more turbulent and painful. And we still don’t learn, and keep heading down the same direction. All the environmental, social, and ecological degradation and injustice around us these days is a loud testament to the fact that we have not yet changed our ways.

Can we learn from the quiet gentle flow, in time, before we reach the next impassable rapids?

A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

The Burning Flame

Today’s Reflection is about the Summer Gathering event I just attended at Hollyhock. Though I have a sense of incomplete thoughts, because the experience has not yet fully settled within me. And probably won’t, any time soon...

Summer Gathering is an event that has been running at Hollyhock for the past 17 years. Perhaps 25. A long time. The premise is simple. Most conferences are not that interesting, and the really juicy stuff happens during the more personal interactions, hallways, celebrations, and party time. This is how the event is structured and planned, to be “A Better Party.” Throw in a location like Hollyhock (http://www.hollyhock.ca/), a group of incredibly diverse and passionate activists, change agents, and artists, and it becomes a recipe for a potent and magical time.

The theme was Decisive Decade. Undoubtedly, this is what we are facing in our immediate future. All of us. Whether we want it or not.


“The Universe operates on a basic principle of economics: everything has its cost. We pay to create our future, we pay for the mistakes of the past. We pay for every change we make... And we pay just as dearly if we refuse to change." - Brian Herbert & Kevin Anderson, “Dune: House Harkonnen”

Because of the richness of the experience, and the variety of activities, conversations, presentations, small group sessions, tears and pain, laughter and inspiration, I am still digesting everything that occurred and the implications. It might continue for a while longer; in the meantime, some of the key moments that stand out. Pieces of the puzzle that combine into a rich tapestry of the human spirit, in its best and worst.

Talking with Samantha, the Executive Director of Lumana (http://www.lumana.org/), and hearing the passion in this 20-something woman who is dedicated to empowering villagers in Africa, through education and entrepreneurship skills. After such a conversation, I am filled with hope for the future, seeing this new generation of young activists, deeply committed to making a difference in our world. Also slightly envious, thinking about how clueless I was when I was her age – about anything of real meaning and value.

Or Project Somos (http://projectsomos.com/), ran by Heather and Greg from Vancouver, whom I met at the Summer Gathering of last year. They are establishing a village for abandoned and orphaned children in Guatemala, progressing with passion, vision, and commitment.

Another fascinating story came from Susan and her Sound Essence Project (http://soundessenceproject.org/), with focus on Mongolia. Her work there is about preserving and documenting the disappearing cultures and tribes; the story of how she even got there is absolutely stunning. “Being led” barely comes close.

No shortage of beautiful people who are engaged in making a real difference.


“Freedom is an elusive concept. Some men hold themselves prisoner even when they have the power to do as they please and go where they choose, while others are free in their hearts, even as shackles restrain them.” - Brian Herbert & Kevin Anderson, “Dune: House Harkonnen”

Yet, there is always another side to the coin of human accomplishments. It is not a pretty one. This time, the focus seemed to gravitate to oil and plastic. It was highlighted during one of the sessions, where Chris Jordan (http://chrisjordan.com) talked about his second Journey to Midway (http://www.midwayjourney.com/) and the heart-breaking images of dead albatross birds, filled with plastic they mistake for fish in the ocean. Manuel Maqueda (http://manuelmaqueda.com/), who is now a leading world expert on plastic pollution (http://plasticpollutioncoalition.org/), followed with a brief overview of plastic (“Plastic is forever,” “None of us really recycles, because putting things into different bins is NOT recycling” and “The only way to deal with plastic now, instead of ‘reuse, reduce, recycle’ is ‘Refuse’”). Then, images of the BP oil spill by Kris Krug (http://www.kriskrug.com/), and eventually a story by Anita Burke, comparing this spill to what happened during the Exxon-Valdez spill, on which she worked directly at the time. Her story about the supposedly-harmless oil dispersant that is being dumped into the water of the Gulf of Mexico and how they were told the same thing during the Exxon oil spill still sends chills through my bones (“They told us that it is a harmless chemical. What a joke! Out of the team I worked with then, I am the only one left alive”).

5 days of such deep and rich fluctuations, between pain and joy, sadness and inspiration, hopelessness and hope. No wonder I am still recovering.


Excerpts from “The Invitation” by Oriah Mountain Dreamer 

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, and if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide or fade it or fix it.

It doesn't interest me to know where you live, or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else fails away.


The question of what sustains people from the inside, when facing such deep pain and despair, and how to keep going, has been on my mind for some time now. While I might not have The Answer, it is somehow less important to even have one. I am grateful for the experience of being with people, who face the same pains, yet still get up in the morning and marching on.

Onward. There really is no other way.


A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Between two stories

Today’s Reflection is about integrating a duality of a life. Definitely mine. Perhaps yours too.

I don’t have children of my own, which is a life choice of a long time ago. However, some of my friends do. This begs an interesting question, along the lines of “What kind of a world am I leaving for my friends’ kids, whom I love dearly?” A question that each person needs to ask themselves these days, given the state of our world.
 

If I am not for myself, who is for me?

If I am only for myself, what am I?
And if not now, when?

- Hillel

The angle I am thinking about right now is the loss of the sense of the sacredness of our universe. It shows when economists tell us that a violent plundering of the Earth would better our existence. It shows when philosophical realists telling us that any appreciation of the mystical and mysterious dimensions of Nature is a sentimental romanticism. And it shows when politicians tell us that the way to control power in the world is by conquering our own territory and then exploit the territories of others.

The results of these stories leads us to where we find ourselves today, with rapidly declining forests, disappearing salmon (earlier today, a Sto:lo First Nation guide in Mission told us that the salmon levels in the Fraser river is about 3-5% of what it used to be perhaps 10 years ago!), pollution, toxins everywhere in and around us, loss of precious tribal ancient knowledge (tribal cultures and many languages are disappearing faster than any species on the planet), and many other disasters, challenges, and problems we are facing these days. The list is, unfortunately, endless.

And then there is the other side, the growing awareness and recognition that we humans are but a subsystem of the Earth system and that our first obligation in any phase of our human lives is to preserve the integral functioning of the world we depend on. This new story allows many to understand how every element of the universe is integral with every other member of the universe community. Many people and organization are working endlessly and patiently, to bring this new story into existence.


It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair,
we had everything before us, we had nothing before us,
we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way...
  - Charles Dickens


 
And I find myself fluctuating between these two types of stories. On some days, excitement within me is palpable and I am engaged and committed, drawing my inspiration both from within, and from seeing and hearing of others who do incredible work. On these days, I feel like I can move mountains, like there are no obstacles, like we are “almost there,” and the sun – inner and outer – is bright and warm.

And then there are other days. The days of the other stories. The days I am present to lack of hope, to injustice, corruption, corporate or political greed (yet again and again), and a nagging thought of the “what’s the point?” flavour. In these days, my heart is heavy, the tears salty, the mountains block the sun, and the future is foggy; perhaps even non-existent at all.

Perhaps this is the work of our lifetime. Learning to reconcile these two types of stories, this duality, while still doing what’s needed to be done so that the children of today will have a tomorrow. And the day after.


A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall...

Today’s Reflection is about a rich and profound journey of the past two years.

They have graduated a week ago, and despite my many thoughts and feelings about this completion, I am having a hard time writing about it. It is as though words will not adequately describe the richness of the experience of this almost-two years journey. Yet, they needs to come out, to verbalize the finality of this phase, close this chapter, and give freedom to the emotions that are percolating within me. After all, I started crying about a week and a half prior to their graduation, thinking about what they meant to me, the tremendous richness of the experience, the gratitude of being able to witness them throughout the program, and the gifts I wanted to give them, as a token of thank you and a guiding light in the next leg of their journeys.

“You are in the center of your relationships. Your relationships do not exist separate from you and cannot exist or change without you.” - Ron Short
 
Bainbridge Graduate Institute (http://www.bgi.edu) is located near Seattle, on Bainbridge Island, with a unique – and first of its kind – MBA in Sustainable Business program. While I have been teaching and facilitating many courses and programs, short and long, with various universities, colleges, and organizations, my heart is clearly with BGI and what they stand for. The key course I teach there (as I teach several courses) is Leadership and Personal Development, or LPD for short. It is a two-year course that continues throughout the whole two years of students’ lives at BGI. I get to witness their complete journeys, from who they were when they started, and till the moments of completion, when they declare who they are and what they stand for in the world through a Leadership Theology exercise, when they present their final Entrepreneurship projects to panels of judges, to the last round of hugs, and to the graduation ceremony.

While I have taught and facilitated many different groups over the past 13 years, this one was different. Still is. I am not sure whether there is one specific ingredient, reason, or secret that made this group so special for me. It probably doesn’t matter either. What matters is that I have been, and still am, digesting and assimilating the lessons I have taken from this very diverse group of individuals, who have challenged and questioned me, accepted and supported, explored and inquired, and shared themselves in a rich, real, and authentic manner.

“When you see that the other exists in you, you begin to take responsibility for your perceptions – for what you ‘know’ and how you know it, and for the way you see others and the world. You begin to act as the creator of your experience.” - Ron Short
 
They have grown, matured, evolved, gained their voice and self-expression, connected with their passion, shared laughs and tears, inspired, challenged, supported, and learned to show up, fully and authentically, in the world. And as I think about them now, stepping “out there” to make a difference and do good meaningful work, I feel more hopeful about our collective future. I know that, after a period of much-needed rest, they will unleash their passion and commitment to a just and sustainable world for current and future generations, harnessing the power of their hearts and the energy of love. Then, as Teilhard de Chardin said, “Then, for the second time in history of the world, human beings will have discovered fire.” This is what brings me hope for our collective future.

And I feel deep gratitude and humility from knowing that I had the honour and privilege to walk along them for this period of time, collaborating on this rich and intense learning journey of their degree.

“Our biggest, yet least visible, problem is that we think the world is outside of us.” - Ron Short
 
There is another, perhaps more subtle, twist to this experience for me. Harmonic Resonance, as well as Ron Short in his beautiful “Learning in Relationships” book point out that there is a mirroring effect between me and this group. In English, it means that we, the students and I, have grown together over this period of time and the co-created learning experience. This is where I can look in the mirror and say, “You know, Simon, given this experience and the fact that you were a part of it, you are clearly doing something right and growing in the right direction. There is still some hope for you... .”


And then, at the end of August, I start with a new group of incoming BGI students, for another 2-year journey.


A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

What Else Are We Missing?

Today’s Reflection is about being present. Or not.

Washington, DC. Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. The man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approximately 2 thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.

4 minutes later:

The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

6 minutes:

A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

10 minutes:

A 3-year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.

45 minutes:

The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

1 hour:

He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.

Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.

The questions raised:

- In a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
- Do we stop to appreciate it?
- Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made... how many other things are we missing?
 

“To live deeper, we have to go to the places that help us find a slower rhythm. But simply going to these places is not enough. We have to let these places touch us, change us, speak to us.” - anonymous

A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

 

Four Years. Go!

Today’s Reflection is about the gift and the blessing of meeting extraordinary people.
 
The woman, a mother of a family of five, called a family meeting. Her husband runs a very successful business, and they have three kids, ages 11 (or 12), 8, and 6. The woman is running The Hunger Project organization (http://www.thp.org/), and so is constantly traveling the world, on a tremendously busy and demanding schedule. From the home base in the US, to Africa, to India, to any other part where her presence is needed to deal with the incredible in its magnitude task of eradicating poverty. She is passionate about her work and the difference it makes for people all over the world.

Yet, she pays a price. Despite her efforts to try and get home for the Friday evening family dinners, regardless of where in the world she is, she misses her son’s baseball games, her daughter’s school events, and numerous other family activities and times together. And it tears her heart, this paradox-with-no-solution she finds herself in. And so, she calls a family meeting, where she tells them about her state of torment, of passion for the work and the pain of missing these important events of their lives. She begs them for a permission to let her keep doing her work, despite the price they will all pay.

“Mom,” says the 8-years old girl, “Just go and keep doing this work. I know it is important. I can find someone else to take me to the orthodontist.”


“Sacrifice is part of life. It is supposed to be, as opposed to something to regret. Something to aspire to. Little sacrifices. Big sacrifices. A mother works so her son can go to school. A daughter moves home to take care of her sick father. Sometimes when you sacrifice something really precious, you are not really losing it. You are just passing it to someone else.” - anonymous

The woman was Lynne Twist, the founder (or one of them, I am not sure) of The Hunger Project, the author of “The Soul of Money” book/masterpiece, and one of the key founders of The Pachamama Alliance (http://www.pachamama.org/) – an organization that is committed to preserving the Earth’s tropical forests by empowering the indigenous people who are its natural custodians, and contributing to the creation of a new global vision of equity and sustainability for all. I had the honour of meeting her a week ago, as she was one of the guests and Change Agents in Residence at Bainbridge Graduate Institute (http://www.bgi.edu) where I currently teach. She spent the whole long weekend with us, students and faculty alike, in conversations, presentations about her work, meals, sitting in classes, and sharing stories, aspirations, and tears.

One of the current projects of the Pachamama Alliance is the FOUR YEARS GO campaign (http://www.fouryearsgo.org/) - to change the course of history. No more. No less. Really. Watch the video clip on the site.


“The fundamental delusion of humanity is to suppose that I am here and you are out there.” - Yasutani Hakuun Roshi

A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Drumming Away

Today’s Reflection is about a recent drumming weekend in Seattle.


 
“I have had many teachers in my life,” he said. “My most important one right now, and for many years is her. She will always tell me when I am present, engaged, in my heart... Or not. When I am, she will participate, play with me, evoke the deepest energies and passion, and help me bring the Spirit in. When I am not, she will let me know. Immediately.”


 
"Let what we love be what we do.  There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground.” - Rumi


When the drumming workshop facilitator, Pepe Danza said the above (OK, I paraphrased a bit, mainly because I couldn’t remember how beautifully he articulated his thoughts), his drum was the “she” that he referred to. One of the things that stays with me from this moment is the attitude of being present, open, and deeply and intimately engaged with the world around. In all its forms. A profound way of being with one’s life. Only it is not always easy...

Like this past Saturday, where I had plans to work for a bit, hike a lot, read, and do whatever I was planning to do on a nicely free day. I was savouring it already. Yet, it was not meant to be, because Tobi woke me up at about 5 AM, needing to go out. And it continued, every hour, for a good part of the day, because of his upset stomach. In between, I could not fall asleep, yet was not coherent enough to do anything of meaning or use. Being present with one’s life, in a profound way (or even half-profound), was completely out of the question. Despite my many attempts, the day was a write-off, and the only thing I was engaged with is my tiredness and general annoyance with the world that chose to not cooperate with my enlightened plans for the day.


“The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trial.” - Confucius

The day was not a write-off after all; I simply needed a time-out from preparations for a new course I am about to start teaching. Apparently, I also needed a reminder to follow-up the drumming workshop and Pepe’s words, whereby one’s greatness is not measured when everything is great. Humility is indeed a first frontier of learning.

Shamans of the 21st Century

Today’s Reflection is about the new healers, of many kinds, in our 21st century.

A lone traveler is crossing the desert. He has been traveling for many days, and both he and his camel are tired. Exhausted really. Almost completely out of food and water. The sun is hot, the wind is blowing hard, and the sand is endless.

Suddenly, in the distance, he notices something. A spot of green. As he rides closer, he sees an oasis, and a village built around it. He approaches the very first house, on the outskirts of the village, gets off his camel, and knocks on the door. A young man opens, and welcomes the weary traveler inside.

He brings some water to wash the face and hands, then water to drink, and then food. After our traveler has eaten, drank, and rested, he thanks his host.

“Blessings on you, young man, for helping a lone traveler and stranger on his arduous journey,” he says. “I really don’t have many possessions with me, yet would love to repay you in some way.”

“You are most kind,” replies the young man. “I really don’t need anything. The only problem in my life is something nobody was able to help me with.”

He proceeds telling the traveler of the dilemma in his life, which has been a source of bitter dispute between his two older brothers and himself. Their father died over a month ago and left them 17 camels as inheritance. His instructions to divide the camels were such that the oldest brother gets 1/2 of the camels, the middle brother 1/3, and he, the youngest, 1/9 of the camels. The brothers talked to the elders, and other wise people of the village, and had endless arguments among themselves, yet were not able to divide the camels according to their father’s will. Peace has left them, bitterness and resentment have settled in their hearts, and the situation was getting worse among them.

“Hmm... This is a tough problem indeed,” said the traveler. “I really don’t have much with me, and so don’t know how I can help you. The only real possession I could offer is my camel. Then, you and your brothers will have 18 camels.” He proceeded to talk.

Your oldest brother should get 1/2 of the camels, which is 9.

Your middle brother is supposed to get 1/3 of the camels, which is 6.

And you, my new friend, should get 1/9 of the camels, which is 2.

“But, hold on,” says the young man. “There is one camel left.”

“True, my friend,” replies the traveler. “Perhaps, then, you would not mind if I will take him and continue on my journey. After all, this camel is my only possession.”

“Measure your greatness by the length of your reach, but also by the gentleness of your touch. For now, the world needs hands that love, not hands that conquer. Let your hands be among them.” - Kent Nerburn

I came across the following piece, written by Martha Beck, titled “World-Healers” and it got me thinking about the theme of this Reflection.

All traditional cultures recognize certain people as natural-born mystical healers (shamans, medicine men, pick your label). Modern Western culture has no category for such people. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t here. Right now, everywhere, ordinary people born to the archetype of the shaman are feeling compelled to begin finding one another and fulfilling their inborn purpose.

The great challenge of the 21st century is to wage peace on a globe full of humans while repairing the unintended damage we’ve inflicted on ourselves, other beings, and the earth. We need modern shamans to channel ancient “technologies of magic” like empathy, creativity, art, and spiritual interconnection, through “magical technologies” like medicine, computers, and satellites. That marriage of ancient and cutting-edge genius can heal hearts, minds, beasts, plants, ecosystems — almost anything.

If you feel something stirring in your heart at the thought that you may be shaman-born, pay attention. This is not an accident. Some as-yet unexplained force is calling you to join in a healing of unprecedented scope. And though that healing will, of course, follow the laws of science, doing it will feel like pure magic.

“Let what we love be what we do. There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground.” - Rumi

Who are these healers and shamans of today? A girl who gives a dollar to a homeless person on the street? A corporate executive who quits his job and starts a non-profit? A marketing manager who leaves her company and becomes a yoga teacher? A bus driver who recites poems and other inspirational quotes all day to his passengers, at every bus stop? An MBA graduate who says no to a big and fancy corporate job, despite the huge student loan that needs to be repaid, and instead goes to work for a small travel agency that designs customized eco-tours to small groups of people?

They come in many forms, shapes, cultures, traditions, areas of passion, and the scale of their impact. No matter. They are all around us, doing their work, sharing their magic and gifts, day after day. Perhaps you too are one of them. Or can be...


A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

One Day

Today’s Reflection is about dreams and visions.


This was a good start of the day. As Tobi and I wandered around the neighbourhood for a morning stroll, I saw a slogan on a pick-up truck that said, “Between the world and the sky.” Roofing company. Cool and creative. Then, at home, I stumbled upon a video clip, One Day, by Matisyahu, who is a Hasidic Jewish musician, blending the traditional Jewish themes with reggae, rock, and hip-hop. And I started thinking creative thoughts and ideas about my one day...

“Freedom is actually a bigger game than power. Power is about that you can control. Freedom is about what you can unleash.” - Harriet Rubin

One day, I will be walking anywhere and everywhere with Tobi, off-leash, without risking fines and his life. And I will not be the only one doing it.

One day, it will take a lot of time, effort, and money to find food that is non-organic, non-local, and loaded with chemicals and pesticides. Only nobody will be looking for it anyway.

One day, we will be learning from the wisdom of the ancient and tribal cultures about life in community and in an alignment with the natural world around us.

One day, the sounds of Nature will be louder than the sounds of civilization.

One day, words and expressions like “social justice,” “inequality,” “marginalized,” and “societal periphery” will become obsolete.

One day, military expenses will disappear from the government budgets.

One day, we will truly acknowledge, embrace, and celebrate diversity.

One day, we will understand the meaning of “enough.”

One day, we will truly look at, and see one another.

One day, there will be no zoo.

One day, our food will really become our medicine, and our medicine – our food.

One day, educational institutions will truly educate and the students will really learn.

One day, I will really know my neighbours.

One day, we will live divided no more.


“What do we live for if not to make the world less difficult for each other?” - George Elliot

And if something as profoundly inspiring and touching as Dick and Rick Hoyt is possible, then perhaps some of my one day ideas too. One day.


A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Unleashing and harnessing energy

Today’s Reflection is about the Vancouver Olympics 2010. In a way.
 
I felt like a real Canadian on Sunday. I was prepared, with food of all kinds, and beer for lunch, and almost all that was needed to watch what apparently about 80% of ALL Canadians watched. The final hockey game between Canada and US. Except I did not paint my face in the colours of the Canadian flag. One has to draw the line somewhere. But otherwise, I was ready, and really enjoyed the game, and cheered, and had fun.

And then, when Canada won, Tobi and I decided to go and visit the downtown Vancouver and be with the masses and experience the celebrations of winning a gold medal in hockey at the Vancouver Olympics 2010.


"When you find out who you are, crank up the volume.” - Anonymous
 
Now, “celebrations” is really too small of a word to describe what was happening downtown. The high-rises were barely visible through the sea of red and white, flowing through the streets like giant tsunami waves of ecstatic fans. Screaming, shouting, cheering, high-fiving anyone and everyone, police included, waving Canadian flags of all sizes, drinking beer on the streets, honking, and being incredibly friendly towards complete strangers. The energy was palpable, tangible, wild, and contagious, and I too was swept in it while walking the streets and observing people. In all my almost 14 years in Vancouver, I don’t remember seeing and feeling anything even remotely close to it.

It felt as though world peace has been declared, and we all miraculously became brothers and sisters, forever more. Only we did not. The fire burnt itself out, and Monday was a completely different day in Vancouver.

“Someday after we have mastered the winds, the waves, and gravity, we will harness for God the energies of love; and then for the second time in the history of the world, human beings will have discovered fire.” - Teilhard de Chardin
 
I keep thinking about the energy I experienced, and about what can be done with it, if it is harnessed to a purpose beyond celebration of winning a hockey game. Such energy is passionate, collaborative, and creative. We all have it. It was evident watching people on the streets. Unleashing it, together, and harnessing it towards making a lasting and tangible difference, can be transformational. The remaining question is “how?”


A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Feeling the Silence

Today’s Reflection is about the pleasure and importance of a time-out.

The Olympics are here, in Vancouver. Media, people (a lot of them), road closures, protesters, security, and the focus of the world on Vancouver. A perfect time to leave the city and disappear somewhere quiet, away from all the noise and the predictions of how many gold medals Canada will take. Not that it is not important (for some or many), yet I find it is somewhat similar to predicting the weather forecast. Unpredictability rules.

By the way, I am not really against the Olympics; I am against it in Vancouver, yet have no problem with people making a lot of efforts, and paying a lot of money, to watch someone else accomplish something spectacular. Enjoy. Really.

“To live deeper, we have to go to the places that help us find a slower rhythm. But simply going to these places is not enough. We have to let these places touch us, change us, speak to us.” - anonymous

I am currently visiting friends on Whidbey Island. They purchased the land, built a house, and have been working the land since. It has been hard, because – as I found out yesterday – they are sitting literally on rocks, and the soil is horrible for growing or gardening pretty much anything. Yet, I keep being amazed at what they do grow, working the land, daily, painstakingly committed to growing more and more of their own food. Their gardens provide food for themselves, and they share it with neighbours and their children. They have a dog, two cats, and various other visitors, like rabbits, deer, and coyotes.

Sitting in their little guest house and watching the day start is a unique and precious experience. The silence is all around, pervasive, and tangible. I can hear the birds, the waterfall of their little pond outside the windows, and Tobi who is begging me to let him out to go visit the cats. I can hear my own thoughts. My heart beat. I can almost hear and feel the grass grow and the trees whisper to each other. This morning, silence penetrates everything – the air, the walls, my heart, and creates an inseparable fabric that connects everything and everyone. The heartbeat of the Universe does not exclude any being, if we but choose to tune into it.

“Eternity is not an endless amount of time but an experience outside of time, free from the stress of never being enough or having enough.” - anonymous

The rain starts, falling down in complete silence, blending with the Silence that is already here, joining in, adding another layer onto this visceral 3-D experience of this little corner of the world. The birds don’t care, and neither does Tobi, who is busy exploring the garden and all the new smells that must be present in this little corner of a quiet paradise. It feels as though I need to be out now as well.

“In the end we will only conserve what we love, we will only love what we know, and we will only know what we experience.” - Baba Dioum, Senegalese Poet and Conservationist

A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Not my problem. Or is it?

Today’s Reflection is about the Vancouver Olympics, the recent Toyota recall, and our interconnected world.
 
The recent Toyota recall is all over the news, because of a faulty gas pedal. Kind of a reminder to us all that no technology is perfect, despite what we desperately want to believe and not think about. Yet, this is not the key thing that bothers me in this event, though perhaps if I owned a Toyota, it might have been different. There was a moment on the CBC news of a person from the CTS Corp (the company making the accelerators for Toyota) saying that “we made them according to the Toyota specifications.”

Great. Translation: “This is not our problem. It is Toyota. We are fine.” This is what bothers me.

“The rain does not fall only on one roof.” - Cameroon proverb
 
Perhaps on a somewhat related theme, we have a very warm winter here in Vancouver, which is not the most conducive to the upcoming Winter Olympic games of 2010. And this, of course, is nobody’s problem. Or is it? After all, many of the new sciences (such as chaos and complexity theories, quantum physics, or living systems) are finally catching up to what the ancient sages and cultures have known way before any of our grandparents were born. We live in a world where everything is connected, related, depends on, and impacts everything else. Cause and effect. Action and reaction. I drive, I make an impact. I don’t, I make an impact too, though a different one. I buy local, there is an impact. Buying imported has a whole different consequence. Duthie Books in Vancouver is closing partially because I have been buying my books on Amazon and eBay, though I am not flattering myself that it was the only reason. There is no way to not participate in the world around us. Each and every one of our actions sends ripple effects that make a difference around us. Global warming is real, despite many of the so-called-scientist who are paid by oil and other companies to tell us otherwise, and we have all contributed to it in many of our actions, big and small. This has happened, and the real question is about what we are going to do about it now, that the consequences are staring us in the face.

“Well, science creates the stories that we live by, and science has told us a very bleak story for the past hundred, four hundred years. It’s told us that we are some sort of genetic mistake. That we have genes that just use us, basically, to move on to the next generation, and that we randomly mutate. It’s said that we are outside of our universe; that we are alone, that we are separate. And that we are sort of this lonely mistake, on a lonely planet, in a lonely universe. And that informs our view of the world. It forms our view of ourselves, and we are now realizing that this view, this view of separateness, is one of the most destructive things. It’s the thing that creates everything: all the problems in the world, the wars, the view of I need more than you, the aggressiveness in everything from business to the classroom. And we’re now realizing that paradigm is wrong. That we aren’t separate, that we aren’t all alone. We are all together. That at the very nethermost element of our being, we are one; we are connected. And so we are trying to understand and absorb what are the implications of that.” - Lynne McTaggart
 
Now, to complete the Toyota story, and the thought about whose problem it is. See, if I was a Toyota supply chain big honcho boss, I would rather work with someone who would instead say, “WE have been working with Toyota for a long time, and we trust them. WE want to work together to make sure this recall is solved fast, because WE value Toyota as a business partner and this is OUR mutual problem.” But I am not.

A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Can I have a recipe please?

Today’s Reflection is about recipes, in all areas of our lives.

In one of the courses I am currently co-teaching, one of the assigned readings is “Conscious Business” by Fred Kofman. I read this book a while back, and remember my initial excitement browsing through the first few chapters of setting the context to bringing consciousness to the business arena. Finally, I thought, someone is talking about a topic that has been taboo for such a long time. Consciousness. In business. In print. For the world to see. Yes!
 
“I learned that happiness and fulfillment do not come from pleasure but from meaning, from the pursuit of a noble purpose.” - Fred Kofman

Later, while reading more thoroughly the rest of the book, I was actually quite disappointed. I will come back to this point. Soon. But first, a few steps back.

Two lifetimes ago, when I was deeply immersed in the fascinating world of computers and programming, there was a particular category of books I had a real problem with. “How to become a Java Guru in 21 days” or “Masterful Database Administrator in 1 week” or whatever promises a concrete and tangible recipe, even in the tangible and concrete area of computer programming. Every science can become art, at a mastery level. The promise to reach a level of art by following several prescribed steps is an illusion that our culture has elevated to a beyond-ridiculous level. One example is an ad I keep seeing in various magazines, selling a set of meditation CDs, which promise you to “learn to meditate like a Buddhist monk” - over a weekend. Pahhh-leaseeee...

I think our culture is pushing this concept of “here is a how-to recipe” everywhere, more and more. That Conscious Business book ended up providing a semi-recipe, by way of principles, for a lack of a better word. Inspiring concept and direction, and valuable and provoking writing, yet of a recipe flavour nevertheless. Teaching leadership is another example of a flood of books, models, and frameworks that promise an Enlightened, Servant, Level 5, or any other terminology-related process of reaching the leadership nirvana. Perhaps it is because we have so much going on right now in our lives that we really cannot spend any time actually thinking about a topic, struggling with it, being in the unknown mystery and the messy chaos. Who has time? If someone comes along and simply gives me the answer, or several “guaranteed” steps that will get me there, I am on board. Got it. Check. And on to the next thing.

“Moments of dynamic quality, moments with the potential to move our very souls, are all around us. Though unpredictable, they require only one thing from us in order for us to experience them: We must be available. Because it resides in your response, dynamic quality is everywhere you are, if you are open to the experience, willing to seek it out, interested and alert to what is happening within and beyond yourself. In life, you must be present to win.” - anonymous

You know, it is a funny thing really. In high school, we spent time reading various poems and spending countless useless hours (according to me then) trying to guess what the author might have meant. Yet, we explored possibilities, engaged our imagination, and actually engaged with the poem in a deep and meaningful way. Now, I am actually thinking that when I teach, these are the kinds of books I want to bring into the classroom more. It will be of a form that students will have to struggle with and through, explore the different learnings and lessons, extract ideas and concepts that are relevant to their own leadership, and figure out ways they can implement such learning process in the various areas of their lives. I think I am actually doing my students a major disservice by feeding them pre-digested tidbits of recipe ingredients.

Now, if I could only find a book to teach me how to do it... ;-)

A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Can there be too much of a good thing?

Today’s Reflection is about an irony of life. At least, one of them.

I love what I do. It is both personal and professionally speaking, though right now the focus is more on the latter. Currently, there are four different graduate-level courses on a variety of topics happening in parallel, and various other individual and organizational clients. And a few projects of my own. And then that “PhD thing” lurking somewhere, feeling slightly neglected. The topics are ones that I absolutely love and am passionate about, from coaching to leadership to personal development to entrepreneurship. In the courses, I love the students probably even more than the topics themselves. They are engaged, passionate about the learning and ways to make a difference in the larger picture, intelligent and creative, and also bring a healthy dose of challenge into our learning environments, just to make sure we (the faculty) don’t become too complacent. An ideal combination really.
 
“The Gods have two ways of dealing harshly with us. The first is to deny us our dreams, and the second is to grant them.” - Oscar Wilde

And then, just as I am about to finish teaching one of the courses (only 24 more final papers to read and grade) and savour a bit of a quiet time, two more emails and two more teaching opportunities of the same topics that I love, with both the same and different universities. Great. Awesome. Cool. They keep knocking on the door. Wait. What about my other plans? I was thinking of taking a time out and breath. Damn. Now what do I do?

“I beg you... to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then someday far in the future you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.” - Rainer Maria Rilke

The strong need and desire to know the answer, right now, is one that is all too common to many. Being in the unknown, in the mystery, in the place were we have no comfort of knowing past, present, and future - is not a place people are often looking forward to. We want to know, to be certain, to avoid that state of discomfort of not knowing, of not being seen as the expert, the one “who has it all together,” the one in control, the one comfortably in control. Here, having the right answer, right now, is everything.

Yet, life teaches us that there are no such places. At least, not for any substantial periods of time. A brief and fleeting moment, of seeming certainty, here and there, merely to tease and lure us into complacency. We relax, drop our defenses, stretch and breath deep. In that very moment, something changes, and we are thrown back into the mystery of the unknown.

Can there be too much of a good thing? Can it cause overwhelm? And if so, are we allowed – spiritually, karmically, metaphysically – to say NO to the Universe, when it (not an adequate descriptor, I know) keeps sending our way more and more of what we want? I mean, what if I say NO and the Universe will reply with, “OK, I guess you don’t want it any more, and so I am done with you. Black-booked for the next few reincarnations.” A scary thought.

“We do not have enough peace. Yet peace will never be attained by perpetual action. Stirred water never has the chance to settle clear. A tree buffeted by winds can never grow straight.” - Deng Ming-Dao

And, by the way, in case you are still wondering - I said yes and I said no.

A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Empty and Loving It

Today’s Reflection is about being empty. And loving it.
 
It is Saturday morning, and I am in bed, though not alone. Perfect company – a book, yerba mate tea, and Tobi. Tobi and tea are regulars, the book is the exception. Not because I don’t bring books to bed, for I certainly do. After all, I claim to operate a business at home, which means that a work-related book can be read in the bedroom or the washroom, the laptop can be in bed (or anywhere else really), and I can conduct a teleconference while sitting on the deck in the sun.

No, the book is an exception at the moment, because it is not a work-related book. Nor it is related to my studies. Even more so, it is a book that I already read. I just thought that I have missed it, and decided to re-acquaint myself with its adventures and wisdom. Despite the fact that there is about a shelf of dusty books I have not yet read, patiently waiting for my attention.

And it is a big deal, because it is a sign that I finally have an opportunity to slow down.

“This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. Being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as I live it is my privilege – my *privilege* to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I love. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me; it is a sort of splendid torch which I've got a hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.” - George Bernard Shaw
 
It really is the first opportunity in several months, and I am feeling thoroughly used up, as Shaw says above. Fall term has finally ended, and teaching 4 graduate level courses in two different universities can be seriously draining. One course with 15 students and one final reflection paper to read and grade. Another course has 30 students, and about 3 different final assignments for each student to read, savour, and grade. The other two courses continue, one with 18 students, and one with 24, with series of ongoing assignments. The more articulate students in these two courses submit an 18-page assignment, the less articulate ones stop themselves at about 8. About a year ago, the record stood on 52 pages, and I am very happy nobody is trying to break it. Yet. Luckily, both courses have a bit of a holiday right now, and will resume within a week or two.

All that, and then the rest of life.

It is not the first time I am experiencing this paradox of duality that life sends my way every so often, to remind me to remain alive, grateful, and engaged. Yes, I am feeling drained, exhausted mentally and emotionally, and craving non-intelligent conversations with Tobi. And, at the same time, I am inspired, touched, and utterly fulfilled by the experience of being engaged in such a rich and deep level with incredibly passionate, experienced, and committed students. I am doing what I absolutely love and believe in.

“People may be married to work, but their real desire is to have an affair of the soul.” - Lance Secretan
 
Being empty. Feeling full. No difference really. Time-out is only that.

A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Accepting the Offer

Today’s Reflection is about the concept of “Accepting the Offer” which comes from the world of improv theatre. But not only from there.

There is always a reason for people to get the dogs they get. Perhaps other pets as well, though I would not know much about it. I do, however, know that it is absolutely true about dogs. We, so-called “dog owners,” get the absolutely perfect dog for us, whether to mirror something back to us, to teach us a lesson, or any other metaphysical reason. The Universe, it seems, is not without a sense of irony or humour.

When Tobi was a puppy, I was learning a lot about the reasons I was chosen for him. One day, in his early puppyhood years, a friend took him for a walk. When she came back, she said, “You know, Tobi is just like you.”

“Yes, I know.” Was my reply. “But what is it this time?”

“Well,” she said, “When you ask or tell him to do something, he will sit there, think about it for a while, and eventually will do it – completely in his own way.”

I knew that this is where she was totally wrong. At least, Tobi will eventually do it.

“Every time man makes a new experiment he always learns more. He cannot learn less.” - Buckminster Fuller

Accepting the offer means opening up to receiving. It means not blocking the flow of whatever is happening in the moment. It means taking what comes your way with a Yes, and finding ways to build upon it. Yes it comes from the world of improv theatre and performing arts in general. Perhaps to get a sense of what it looks like in the improv world, check out “3 For ALL” on YouTube. Accepting the offer, taking it in, and doing something with it to forward the energy and the flow of the moment creates a very different experience. Much like in life, everything remains in constant motion.

Yet, the world of performing arts is not the only playground for accepting the offer. They are everywhere around us, daily, crossing our path and checking our awareness, openness, and courage to notice, accept, and say Yes.

When the first Western anthropologists “discovered” the Shaolin Temple, they were baffled. “How could these Buddhist monks, who are all about peace and kindness, be at the same time such incredible lethal killers?” the anthropologists thought. What they didn’t understand is that in the monk’s particular philosophy, everything that is given to them is a gift – and they have the right to accept or return it. So when a blow or a kick was delivered to them by their opponent, it was interpreted as “Thank you for the offer. I don’t think it belongs to me, so here it is back.”

“Did you tackle the trouble
that came your way
With a resolute heart and
cheerful?
Or hide your face from
the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or
a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn’t the fact that you
hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?”
-Edmund Vance Cooke

One of Tobi’s strongest gifts is that of welcoming and accepting strangers. I can only think of one situation where that was not the case; otherwise, he is always friendly, welcoming, and wagging to every person he comes across. Me, I am still learning this lesson, and have a way to go...


A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

Breaking the Chain

Today’s Reflection is about our Western view of the world. And about some of the implications of this worldview.

The idea of “The Great Chain of Being” is originally attributed to the Greeks, and particularly Aristotle. This idea proposes that all beings are arranged in a single continuum, a natural scala, according to their “degree of perfection.” This perfection is based on the amount of “soul” or “potential realization” which differs for each kind of being. The amount of “soul” determines how close they are to God, who of course, sits at the very top.

This concept birthed our Western worldview of the world around us, according to which God reigns over men, who rule over women, children, animals, plants, and inorganic matter, in that order. And while things are slowly changing, this is still the predominant thinking, and a very linear view of the world. Interesting to see what are the impacts of such a worldview.

“Today, with little notice, vast archives of knowledge and expertise are spilling into oblivion, leaving humanity in danger of losing its past and perhaps jeopardizing its future as well. Stored in the memories of elders, healers, midwives, farmers, fishermen and hunters in the estimated 15,000 cultures remaining on earth is an enormous trove of wisdom. This largely undocumented knowledge base is humanity’s lifeline to a time when people accepted nature’s authority and learned through trial, error and observation. But the world’s tribes are dying out or being absorbed into modern civilization. As they vanish, so does their irreplaceable knowledge.” - Eugene Linden, Time Magazine Cover Story September 23, 1991

This linear view of the world is subtly embedded everywhere in our culture. For instance, the notion of progress – either through land ownership or through economic wealth. More is better. To return is to fail. Onward is the way. Mine is better than yours; if not better, at least bigger (which will make it better anyway).

There is no room for wholeness of the reality around us in such a worldview, because we are looking through a narrow set of lens. Much like the parable of the five blind men who go to explore an elephant and report back to the king who sent them. “An elephant is like a big strong pillar,” says the one who touched the elephant’s leg. “The elephant is smooth, long, curved, and dangerous,” reports the one who ended up with a tusk. “No, no” says the third, who managed to grab an ear; “The elephant is round and thin, like a big fan, and creates strong wind.” And on it goes.

The longer one lives with their worldview, the more one tends to ignore the fact that it is even there. Much like the fact that I am wearing contact lens, yet for the most part, don’t have any awareness of them. Yet, they are instrumental to the fact that I see, and also to what I see.
Being aware of the limits of the ways we learned to perceive is tremendously important, because this learning came to us through and from someone and their perceptions of reality. Many of these lie completely invisible right before our eyes. Until they come to focus, usually as a result to a shock to our system. Or because we stumble upon their effect, in some form.

“Well, science creates the stories that we live by, and science has told us a very bleak story for the past hundred, four hundred years. It’s told us that we are some sort of genetic mistake. That we have genes that just use us, basically, to move on to the next generation, and that we randomly mutate. It’s said that we are outside of our universe; that we are alone, that we are separate. And that we are sort of this lonely mistake, on a lonely planet, in a lonely universe. And that informs our view of the world. It forms our view of ourselves, and we are now realizing that this view, this view of separateness, is one of the most destructive things. It’s the thing that creates everything: all the problems in the world, the wars, the view of I need more than you, the aggressiveness in everything from business to the classroom. And we’re now realizing that paradigm is wrong. That we aren’t separate, that we aren’t all alone. We are all together. That at the very nethermost element of our being, we are one; we are connected. And so we are trying to understand and absorb what are the implications of that.” - Lynne McTaggart, “What the bleep do we know?”

Where am I going with this thought direction? I am actually not sure. Or perhaps I am, yet cannot fully express it in words. Not time yet. Right now, it is time to be with the realization and the impact of such a way of being in, and with, the world around me. The process of looking for words to express it better is actually a beginning of my PhD work, which I am embarking on these days. And understanding and absorbing it all is an important process these days for me...


A sunny week to you all, inside and out.

An apple from a tree

Today’s Reflection is about my recent travels, and some unexpected outcomes (aren’t they usually).

Simplicity of life when traveling is always somehow easier to experience, even when I am still connected to my life back home. Everything is more vivid and real, and I feel very alive and alert to the new world around me. This sense of presence is almost constant and immediate, a signature experience of being in a strange land.

This was very real for me recently, as the last part of my vacation was a cycling trip in Northern Spain, cycling the pilgrimage route of Santiago de Compostela. There actually are 12 different routes that lead to Santiago; I picked the one along the northern coast of Spain, El Camino del Norte. I started in Bilbao, and followed the coastline; I chose this route because I love being close to the ocean, and because it is less popular one which means less pilgrims and more local people. As I found out while en route, it also rains a lot more.

“Many people think we travel to rush out into crowds of people, but most of us travel to travel within. There is no more quiet and central space than the anonymity of being in a foreign place without ties or obligations. In quiet moments sitting alone in a cafe, looking down on a village from the edge of a cliff, or in suspended peace of a soaring cathedral, we can pause to look back with objectivity and forward with intelligence and hope. Travel can be a series of these small epiphanies. With distance we can see patterns, themes, and questions our life has posed to us, and sometimes, in a faraway place, the answers come.” - Judith Babcock Wylie

When was the last time I picked an apple from a tree? I mean, by now I know they don't grow on a shelf of a supermarket, yet the experience of stopping along the side of a small and winding country road, picking an apple and eating it was a beautiful reminder to the simplicity quality of life that is so easy to forget when "life just goes on." Under the rain, being all wet, this apple tasted better than many of the apples I eat at home (and I do eat many apples).

Some of the other things that stick to mind are the friendliness of people of the regions I passed through. Friendly, helpful, and very enjoyable – especially when they find out I come from far away to do the pilgrimage route, and on a strange-looking bike setup. Rural Spain is an interesting mix of old and new; a brand new car will be parked next to a stall with a few horses or cows, with a beautiful old brick house nearby. Far in the distance, there will be a wind farm, with tall towers and large propellers generating electricity from the wind. The old and the new.

Then there is the Menu del Dia, which is the menu of the day. Such meal is a serious thing in the region. It starts with a first course, which will be a massive plate of something (like, a plate full of rice, hot sauce, and two fried eggs). That is followed by a main course, includes a basket of bread with unlimited refills, a bottle of something (water, wine, beer, or cider), and a dessert. It is cheap, delicious, and is a perfect completion of a day of cycling.

What gives value to travel is fear. It is the fact that, at a certain moment, when we are so far from our own country we are seized by a vague fear, and an instinctive desire to go back to the protection of old habits. This is the most obvious benefit of travel. At that moment we are feverish but also porous, so that the slightest touch makes us quiver to the depth of our being. We come across a cascade of light, and there is eternity. This is why we should not say that we travel for pleasure.” - Albert Camus

Beyond all that, though, something completely different stands out for me from this trip. I love reading when I travel; one of the books I took with me is called "Mirrors: Stories of almost everyone" by Eduardo Galeano. A profound and seriously disturbing, irreverent, heartbreaking account of the “unofficial history” of all that the white man did throughout his conquest of the world, on many continents. It is not that I have not known about it; I have. Yet, the details, the little moments, the fact that it was everywhere is what is so disturbing. How incredibly ironic it is that here I am, completing a route of the original Christian pilgrims, and am realizing that most of the non-European world has been brutally destroyed by greed and religion (namely Christianity). It is, in a way, a magic mosaic of our humanity – and it is not pretty.

Yet, equally or even more potent, was a poem that I received around the same time. It is a post 9/11 one, which captures the essence of the book in a very vivid and real way. Both the book and the poem are related, and I am sharing it with you all here.

A MOMENT OF SILENCE, BEFORE I START THIS POEM

Before I start this poem, I'd like to ask you to join me
In a moment of silence
In honor of those who died in the World Trade Center and the
Pentagon last September 11th.
I would also like to ask you
To offer up a moment of silence
For all of those who have been harassed, imprisoned,
disappeared, tortured, raped, or killed in retaliation for those strikes,
For the victims in both Afghanistan and the U.S.

And if I could just add one more thing...
A full day of silence
For the tens of thousands of Palestinians who have died at the
hands of U.S.-backed Israeli
forces over decades of occupation.
Six months of silence for the million and-a-half Iraqi people,
mostly children, who have died of
malnourishment or starvation as a result of an 11-year U.S.
embargo against the country.

Before I begin this poem,
Two months of silence for the Blacks under Apartheid in South Africa,
Where homeland security made them aliens in their own country.
Nine months of silence for the dead in Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
Where death rained down and peeled back every layer of
concrete, steel, earth and skin
And the survivors went on as if alive.
A year of silence for the millions of dead in Vietnam - a people,
not a war - for those who
know a thing or two about the scent of burning fuel, their
relatives' bones buried in it, their babies born of it.
A year of silence for the dead in Cambodia and Laos, victims of
a secret war ... ssssshhhhh....
Say nothing ... we don't want them to learn that they are dead.
Two months of silence for the decades of dead in Colombia,
Whose names, like the corpses they once represented, have
piled up and slipped off our tongues.

Before I begin this poem.
An hour of silence for El Salvador ...
An afternoon of silence for Nicaragua ...
Two days of silence for the Guatemaltecos ...
None of whom ever knew a moment of peace in their living years.
45 seconds of silence for the 45 dead at Acteal, Chiapas
25 years of silence for the hundred million Africans who found
their graves far deeper in the ocean than any building could
poke into the sky.
There will be no DNA testing or dental records to identify their remains.
And for those who were strung and swung from the heights of
sycamore trees in the south, the north, the east, and the west...

100 years of silence...
For the hundreds of millions of indigenous peoples from this half
of right here,
Whose land and lives were stolen,
In postcard-perfect plots like Pine Ridge, Wounded Knee, Sand
Creek,
Fallen Timbers, or the Trail of Tears.
Names now reduced to innocuous magnetic poetry on the
refrigerator of our consciousness ...

So you want a moment of silence?
And we are all left speechless
Our tongues snatched from our mouths
Our eyes stapled shut
A moment of silence
And the poets have all been laid to rest
The drums disintegrating into dust.

Before I begin this poem,
You want a moment of silence
You mourn now as if the world will never be the same
And the rest of us hope to hell it won't be. Not like it always has
been.

Because this is not a 9/11 poem.
This is a 9/10 poem,
It is a 9/9 poem,
A 9/8 poem,
A 9/7 poem
This is a 1492 poem.

This is a poem about what causes poems like this to be written.
And if this is a 9/11 poem, then:
This is a September 11th poem for Chile, 1971.
This is a September 12th poem for Steven Biko in South Africa,
1977.
This is a September 13th poem for the brothers at Attica Prison,
New York, 1971.
This is a September 14th poem for Somalia, 1992.
This is a poem for every date that falls to the ground in ashes
This is a poem for the 110 stories that were never told
The 110 stories that history chose not to write in textbooks
The 110 stories that CNN, BBC, The New York Times, and
Newsweek ignored.
This is a poem for interrupting this program.

And still you want a moment of silence for your dead?
We could give you lifetimes of empty:
The unmarked graves
The lost languages
The uprooted trees and histories
The dead stares on the faces of nameless children
Before I start this poem we could be silent forever
Or just long enough to hunger,
For the dust to bury us
And you would still ask us
For more of our silence.

If you want a moment of silence
Then stop the oil pumps
Turn off the engines and the televisions
Sink the cruise ships
Crash the stock markets
Unplug the marquee lights,
Delete the instant messages,
Derail the trains, the light rail transit.

If you want a moment of silence, put a brick through the window
of Taco Bell,
And pay the workers for wages lost.
Tear down the liquor stores,
The townhouses, the White Houses, the jailhouses, the
Penthouses and the Playboys.

If you want a moment of silence,
Then take it
On Super Bowl Sunday,
The Fourth of July
During Dayton's 13 hour sale
Or the next time your white guilt fills the room where my beautiful
people have gathered.

You want a moment of silence
Then take it NOW,
Before this poem begins.
Here, in the echo of my voice,
In the pause between goosesteps of the second hand,
In the space between bodies in embrace,
Here is your silence.
Take it.
But take it all...Don't cut in line.
Let your silence begin at the beginning of crime. But we,
Tonight we will keep right on singing...For our dead.

EMMANUEL ORTIZ, 11 Sep 2002.


A sunny week to you all, inside and out.