Journal Journey

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. I feel a process happening in me, of which I am only partly conscious, that is a rebuilding after a ripping apart. It seems to me that wisdom comes from spiraling through the same core questions and attempts at answers, each time with a new set of tools and perspectives. Several of these have come through my life recently, processes amounting to 'training' in becoming a bearer and believer of possibility of a higher humanity. This all came to a sort of climax on Sunday morning.

What I'm refering to in this 'training' is the emotionally taxing journey into the deepest corners of what people do to one another in the name of power/greed/jealousy, etc.-- torture, genocide, creation of child soldiers. My eyes have seen the remnants of these, and heard from the mouths of those who have experienced them, enough that such words I read in texts come alive in emotion, refusing to let the academic sterility mask the reality of the sad phenomena we study. The more I struggle through the thick swamp of disbelief and despair of how we are capable of treating one another, the more my mind and heart are able to come into alignment and be strengthened, though never numb.

Sunday... a church service among a small congregation a short walk from home became the site of an unexpected internal battle. Among many things that were conjured up that morning, one was my reaction to the sermon delivered by a woman who recently returned to Brisbane after forty years as a missionary in Malaysia. As she spoke of moments of joy in bringing people to the Church, my judging mind lept to the number of people who carry the name 'Christian' and yet are responsible for countless acts of violence and death... But it's never a matter of labels, and within each person is this constant battle between constructor and destructor. We come as we are. For every act of horror there is potential for reflection, rebirth, renewal. Can we build our communities to support each other in tapping this potential and creatively exploring it to the infinite realms, beyond the confines we repeatedly assign ourselves to...?

New Zealand reflections

New Zealand. I told several Kiwis the story of meeting a man on a plane about a decade ago who spoke of the tremendous beauty of the islands, and that since then it was on my 'dream list' to travel to New Zealand. If you would have told me a year ago that I'd have that particular dream come true within the next year, I would have chuckled... but one of the zillions of twists and turns over these past 14 months landed me there.

Most of the days I spent at the house of my wonderful Rotarian host, Madelene-- a nuturing, humorous, supportive, intelligent, and adventurous lady. From my guest room, I gazed out onto the bay in speechless humility, and again, counted blessings. I was there to speak at a Rotary District Conference, which I achieved last Sunday to a crowd of two hundred some Rotarians who hadn't heard much about the World Peace Fellowship to date. It's always a gift to hear feedback from people afterwards as different people relate to your words in different ways.

I spent a total of ten days in New Zealand, a few in Wellington and most in Picton. It was a much needed respite from the intensity of study in conflict, violence, war, misunderstanding, power and greed, and in my Rotary presentation was the opportunity to reflect a bit on my life. Though I didn't have quite enough time to reflect beyond the realization that my soul longs for more time to reflect:) To the point of having to remind myself which country I wake up to, I'm simply moving too fast. I find scarce time to engage in deep-reaching conversations with friends, as we all duck off to our computers. But we have so much to process together... Tonight a discussion about humanitarian emergencies with a reality check on the variety of ways what seemingly is 'positive' may truly leave more damage in its wake. Competition between NGOs in an everwidening field of aid... how to prevent market forces from overshadowing the value base of assistance work?

Exhaustion amidst the tension and confusion of attempting to answer 'what is expected of me in this moment of all that is holy?'