Mystics For Peace - Blog

Environmental activism is like courting a mourning widow

Tue, 22 May 2012 23:10:10 -0500

Our global crisis could be summarized as a broken covenant between humans and nature. Humans were once beloved indigenous member species of the various ecosystems on the planet. Projects of immigration, slavery, displacement, war, and colonialism are the outward exhibitions of the human's warped drive for domination of other people and nature. Humans loyal to their membership in their respective ecosystems were wiped out, humiliated, or given secondary citizenship in the sick world created by the conquerors.

When I look at current environmental movements, I see that the main focus is more on preserving or restoring nature and less about restoring the broken covenant between nature and the humans that used to live there. This is analogous to a criminal who murders a man to steal his property, but then, to make amends for his crime, marries the man's wife so she won't be a widow. This may seem noble to the criminal's mind, but if we look at it from the widow's point of view, this is actually a very barbaric approach. To make reparations to the widow, the criminal should build a lavish shrine for the widow's husband and seek out her husband's family members who have gone into hiding to reunite the family. He should create a safe space where they can openly share their grief and heal themselves together.

From this perspective, the best way to work for environmental justice is by honoring the people who have intimately loved their homeland for thousands of years and who are closest to remembering the language and needs of the land. Rather than attempting to research and connect with nature on our own terms, like courting a mourning widow, it might be better to beg for forgiveness from the indigenous ones and offer them all our resources of time and money to guide us in the movement toward healing and balance of the natural world. If we are truly sincere in our desire to repair the damage that has been done, we will pay full allegiance to the moral authority that the black, brown, and red-skinned people of the world possess.

Innocence

Tue, 08 May 2012 23:28:50 -0500

Under all the pain and hurt, there is an innocence in each being that is as fragile as it is indestructible. That is where my love sits, like a seed in my heart, waiting for water. All it takes is one touch to suddenly spring into full bloom. This miracle of life keeps me coming back over and over again to this place where everything begins. Thanks to those who, by some grace, find themselves standing at the gate, ushering us through the door of that pure Presence.

Boogie Men

Tue, 08 May 2012 11:40:10 -0500

Here are three profiles of people who, even in liberal circles, are condemned as being corrupt, violent, or oppressive. But actually, they are three examples of people who, within their own set of beliefs, are trying to fight against an unjust system. The individual’s personal style or beliefs may be different from you or me, but their fight for justice should be familiar. If you were one of the people whose lives were threatened by institutionalized racism, how would you respond? These men respond with outspoken militancy, which should not be condemned or praised, but understood as rooted in self-defense and an effort to preserve the dignity of oppressed people.

1. Osama Bin Laden

2. Mahmood Ahmadinejad

3. Malcolm X

In Your Blindspot

Sat, 05 May 2012 16:07:41 -0500

I’ve been living in the collective blindspot of American consciousness, and I’d like to be seen now. I draw greatly on the inspiration of Dr. Beverly Daniel Tatum’s book, “Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria.” I was required to read that book in grad school, and I remember being astonished at the way she was able to clearly and logically articulate something so uncomfortable and emotionally charged as basically calling all White people racist. (If you haven’t read it, or if that accusation makes you flinch, please broaden your horizons and do the world a favor: read it.)

I am sitting with an untold story in our political discourse, and I feel suffocated by misunderstanding and invisibility in this tense climate of aggression and fear. Being Iranian-American in these times has placed me in a position of having intimate experience with certain problems in our world that others don’t. While most Americans are afforded the luxury of remaining an oblivious spectator in the war on terrorism, I am already enlisted in the fight as a potential suspect and bearer of American guilt for the unjust murders of hundreds of thousands of innocent people in the Middle East. My response so far has been to remain in hiding. I have sought out allies, but it has been difficult to find any.

I have lost friends, communities, and affiliations with organizations because I refuse to allow my story to be ignored and overwritten by others. It has caused me to become very isolated in my life, and though I still try to find opportunities to express my point of view, over time I have become more defensive and hesitant to open up to people. I strongly identified with a statement from a film, Making Whiteness Visible: “Every time a Black person makes friends with a White person, we are crawling on our knees over the chards of every broken relationship when we thought we could trust someone.”

I know that some groups have suffered much more and much longer in America’s blindspot of unacknowledged privilege. Personally, I have gained many advantages over others in countless arenas, including economic class, race, education, health, and sexual orientation. It is worth noting, though, that the prejudice toward Arabs, Muslims, and the Middle East is rarely challenged or studied due to the volatility of the subject since 9/11. I am hard pressed to name a single author or speaker who has been willing to talk openly and honestly from a Middle Eastern perspective at the risk of their lives and credibility. Even very left-wing programs like Democracy Now will air biased and racist propaganda about the Middle East.

One problem is that most people have never been exposed to my perspective. Almost everywhere I go, I have been subjected to caustic comments by supposedly open-minded people about Iran, terrorism, Islam, war, etc. When I’ve tried to share my story and educate them about their hurtful errors, many times I have been verbally assaulted with prejudice and stereotypes, often by people who know virtually nothing about the subject. Perhaps they are so disturbed by the possibility of their ignorance that they vehemently push it away, strangely confident in a haze of unfounded popular opinion and of boogie men depicted in mainstream media.

The worst problem, in my view, is the hypocrisy that pervades the narrative of liberal people. They are so certain that they are on the “good side" that it is difficult for me to bring up these topics without challenging someone’s identity. I keep getting pushed into the corner with assurances, “Oh yes, we understand.”

I’m sorry, but no, you really don’t.

A Harsh Look in the Mirror

Fri, 04 May 2012 07:57:52 -0500

I would like to share some of my frustrations about white liberal spiritual activist movements. I am sorry to be criticizing such well-meaning folks because I recognize that at least they are trying to be part of the solution. But I'm sure that I'm not the only one who has made similar observations, so perhaps it is useful to get it out in the open. I also believe it is crucial that we take an honest look at ourselves, especially if we claim to be human beings with integrity. I sincerely hope that by calling out our shadows and vulnerabilities that we can make necessary shifts in current modes of activist movements.

One difficulty I have encountered has been that many spiritual activists seem to be coming from a desire for a feel-good experience rather than a sincere concern about other people or nature. Even in groups that proclaim to be praying for peace or healing in the Earth community, I notice there is an expectation that spiritual progress is associated with contentment and starry-eyed smiling, which often creates an atmosphere of passivity in the face of big problems. Challenge, struggle, and ambivalence are considered highly disruptive in this approach. One time I shared my grief about the war in Afghanistan in a community that I considered to be my spiritual family. I was ostracized by the group and told that my political beliefs needed to remain outside the circle. One person in the community told me, “You should realize that everything is perfect and exactly as it should be.” I told her, “If everything is perfect, then why are you trying to change me?”

I’ve also been disappointed in activist circles that seem to be focused on expressing a loving, hopeful, and positive attitude about world problems. There may be encouragement to participate in some type of active service and the acknowledgement of grief about our predicament, but association with these organizations grants members the quick and easy label of being a do-gooder who is saving the world. While those might be decent intentions, they do not translate into meaningful action because there is little willingness to risk anything of value in the process. Even among highly regarded leaders in spiritual activist movements, personal safety and social palatability seem to trump genuine instincts toward righteousness. When I have tried encouraging others to take a more sincere approach, I have felt rejected and accused of being angry or destructive. I concur with much of the writings of Derrick Jensen on this subject and his critique of American activism.
( http://www.orionmagazine.org/index.php/articles/article/5340/ )

There are some activists who take the opposite route and express great rage through subversive actions about their specific issue. But in those groups I am again discouraged because their solutions also do not seem to be aimed at changing the situation but about expressing their anger. I admire their courage but they exhaust me with their blind and lustful zeal toward a beloved apocalypse. The explosive emotions overshadow any rational and realistic discussion about strategies for urgent and lasting change. I have often wondered if they are in fact angry about something else and are using activism as an outlet to vent their feelings. When I have tried to pose questions about how their plans will address the identified problems, I have felt ignored.

I write this critique in hopes to dispel weak and fragmented links in our collective motion forward. I would like to see an emergence of much more sincere and realistic engagement in spiritual activist movements that enlists the full capacity of our courage and creativity. I am ready for a conversation that is both serene and brutal, both alarmed and coherent, both loving and outraged, wounded yet dignified, despairing yet still here. I aspire to pull together these disparate notes into a cohesive identity that integrates the full spectrum of authentic responses to this moment.

The Uninvited Fairy

Thu, 03 May 2012 00:09:05 -0500

From Animals and the Psyche by Jutta von Buchholtz, Ph.D., Jungian Analyst:
What about all those dreams in which we are pursued by a ferocious dog or a vicious snake? Jung posited that inevitably this indicated that we had become estranged from our instincts, had closed the door to our inner nature. Consequently, nature turns ugly, turns against us - much like the uninvited thirteenth fairy in "Sleeping Beauty", or in the story of Philemon and Baucis, the gods punished those one thousand villagers with a flood drowning all those whose doors had remained barred to them. What is asked for is a change in consciousness: hospitable receptivity towards the Feared, the Uninvited, the Creature within. This shift in attitude alone often suffices and is transformative: the beast can show his princely aspects. Politely ask your dream dog or snake: "What do you wish of me?" Inevitably, the animal will answer back.

Sometimes I feel like the uninvited fairy of sleeping beauty. Me, with my dark hairy face and my angry expression, me with my wounds still open and my suspiciousness of all you. Like winter, like death, I hunt you as well, but I still want your love.

From "Being Peace" by Thich Nat Hanh

Wed, 02 May 2012 01:00:16 -0500

I wrote a poem over thirty years ago, when I was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, about a brother who suffered so much he had to drop out of society and go to a meditation center. Since the Buddhist temple is a place of compassion, they welcomed him. When someone is suffering so much, when he or she comes to a meditation center, the first thing is to give some kind of comfort. The people in the temple were compassionate enough to let him come and have a place to cry. How long, how many days, how many years did he need to cry? We don’t know. But finally he took refuge in the meditation center and did not want to go back to society. He had had enough of it. He thought that he had found some peace, but one day I myself came and burned his meditation center, which was only a small hut: his last shelter! In his understanding, he had nothing else outside of that small cottage. He had nowhere to go because society was not his. He thought he had come to seek his own emancipation, but, in the light of Buddhism, there is no such thing as individual self. As we know, when you go into a Buddhist center, you bring with you all the scars, all the wounds from society, and you bring the whole society as well. In this poem, I am the young man, and I am also the person who came and burned down the cottage.

I will say I want it all
If you ask how much do I want,
I’ll tell you that I want it all.
This morning, you and I
And all men
Are flowing into the marvelous stream
Of oneness.

Small pieces of imagination are as we are,
We have come a long way to find ourselves
And for ourselves, in the dark, the illusion
Of emancipation.

This morning, my brother is back from his
Long adventure.
He kneels before the altar,
His eyes full of tears.
His soul is longing for a shore to set anchor at
(a y earning I once had).
Let him kneel there and weep.
Let him cry his heart out.
Let him have is refuge there for a thousand
Years,
Enough to dry all his tears.

One night, I will come and set fire to his shelter,
The small cottage on the hill.
My fire will destroy everything
And remove his only life raft after a shipwreck.

In the utmost anguish of his soul,
The shell will break.
The light of the burning hut will witness
His glorious deliverance.
I will wait for him
Beside the burning cottage.
Tears will run down my cheeks.
I will be there to contemplate his new being.
And as I hold his hands in mine
And ask him how much he wants,
He will smile and say that he wants it all –
Just as I did.

Animate World

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 12:23:53 -0500

Welcome to this moment that can be as mundane or thunderous as we are capable of seeing it. I listen to Alinejad’s music and am reminded of the treasure that is nurtured through Iranian traditional arts. This treasure is a fire that burns in the eyes, in the soul, in the heart, and purifies the mind. In this form of mystical trance, love is not a soft and gentle feeling with a sweet smile. Love is an arrow in the heart, a tearing of the mask, the last yell as you fall off the cliff. No poetry can do justice to this important mode of seeing, the depth of which has no end.

I do not pretend to have any mastery in this school of wisdom, but I sense it enough to be drawn in as if it were my long lost home calling me. And when I go inside, I want to take the whole world with me, with all its emptiness and soullnessness and put it through that compression chamber, so it gets tenderized and kneaded like a piece of meat. I imagine all the dead bits get crunched and dissolved and the living bits get activated and charmed into red, juicy nutrients.

Such a world is our birthright, one that is saturated with spirit. The world is like our own body, full of tense muscles, dead zones, and stiffness. After going through the incinerator of Sufi trance, the world becomes like the body after passionate dancing, followed by wild sex, followed by a luxurious massage. All the bones and muscles and organs and skin become tightly woven and speak in forbidden tongues with all the other parts. Sufi music eliminates the dead zones on the terrain where our souls walk, like a mental defragmenter. Masters like Alinejad have made permanent residence in that animate world and they sing to us from there. I feel so blessed to live in a time in which music with such power still exists.

The Shame of Wildness

Sat, 28 Apr 2012 01:29:34 -0500

It is easy to feel hopeless about the fate of humanity when so much ignorance and destruction surrounds us. But the corruption of the human being from a noble and decent creature to an insatiable consumer is not complete. The world is yet full of people who have living roots in cultures and traditions that preserve mysticism, creativity, and wisdom: not only the remaining pockets of indigenous people who still fight to maintain old ways of life, but also the conquered people of the world who live under the shame of domination.

Certainly every third world country has villages in its countryside where people still live the way they have lived for thousands of years. In the Middle East, South America, Africa and Asia, where Western values have only gained control in fragments of the upper classes, vast majorities still bear fresh, felt knowledge of the ancient harmonious relationships with the Earth. Even here in the U.S., certain marginalized subgroups maintain an ancestral pride that preserves the decency of the human race, including a wide spectrum of immigrant populations.

I believe all of these groups are held in mental slavery that diminishes their ability to stand up against the destructive force of modernism. They see themselves as primitive, and even as they defensively laud their heritage, I watch them scramble toward the center of technology, fashion, and prestige defined by popular movies, television, and consumer culture. Their wildness has been broken into submission, the shame of which is expressed through humiliating jokes about their origins. They laugh at each other with cruel identification with their conquerors.

For me, this split identity of conquered people is both a source of great despair and great hope. How terrible that the capitalist nightmare of our world has wrought such damage to the human spirit. But how amazing that these addictive cultural forms are only skin deep for most of the world’s people, and the return to sanity is only a short step away. Imposed self-loathing may successfully prevent anyone from taking that short step, but isn’t it remarkable how short the step is?

Crowded

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 01:31:07 -0500

I really wish people would stop having kids. When I look at our global crises, sometimes it seems like the best solution would be to sterilize every human living in an industrial society. It is stunning that so many people become defensive when I talk about this, especially those who consider themselves to be radical activists. All of the evils of the world (i.e. war, slavery, climate change) result from that human hunger for more land, more food, and more babies, which requires more energy, more resources, and more labor. Doesn’t it seem like human beings have taken over the world in larger-than-life proportions? Wouldn’t it be nice if human beings could shrink back into normal size and fade back into a precious but small role in the story of the cosmos?

Though the desire to have a child is natural and healthy in a sustainable and benevolent society, it is something that Americans need to consider very carefully. There are plenty of children already present in the world who desperately need parenting. People who care about people and the planet might spend their attention on them rather than give into the seductive pull to pass on our genes and raise little versions of ourselves. Some people hope to raise a child in such a superior way that their child could become an asset to our future world. While that sounds lovely, it probably isn’t guaranteed and might not be the most efficient use of our adult energy in a time of crisis.

Personally, I would really like to have my own child, so I am the last person to blame anyone for giving into that desire. After all, life is meant to be enjoyed and savored, even if our future is being destroyed. Perhaps even more so because of that. Maybe my grand “save the world” impulses are just some hero complex I inherited from my American upbringing. Maybe Earth will “shake us off like fleas when she’s ready” as my teacher Frank Natale used to say. I never liked that analogy. Dogs can’t shake off fleas.