The Way Forward

“When will we learn to let go of our fear of the other—to see that there is no other, that we are one? Our needs, our grief, our joys, are all the same, and everything else is empty air, devoid of meaning or purpose.”—Helen Noakes

Waking Point

By Helen Noakes

“When one takes action for others, one’s own suffering is transformed into the energy that can keep one moving forward; a light of hope illuminating a new tomorrow for oneself and others is kindled.”—Daisaku Ikeda

SAN FRANCISCO California—(Weekly Hubris)—11/23/2015—So many things occur to me as I go about the business of bringing my house into order.

I cull my collection of books, filling bags with volumes that once were relevant, hoping that others will find them as useful as I once did. I discard documents and drawings created by me in a past life, in a profession I long ago found tediously repetitive and useless. And, seeing the crammed boxes and bags hauled away by the garbage collector, I rejoice at the clean, empty sidewalk left behind.

I work with dogged determination, breathing a bit easier as I admire the order I create out of chaos . . . and a washer breaks down flooding the laundry room; a window sputters water onto an inner sill when the first rain storm in 271 days finally blesses this parched city. And I stop to deal with both—not annoyed, but thankful. Thankful that these little disasters have happened now, as I so obsessively seek to clear the decks.

For that is precisely what my psyche repeats as a mantra, precisely what drives my obsession. I am clearing away the clutter of irrelevant objects and, in that process, clearing away the useless baggage of obsolete emotions, beliefs, sorrows. But I’m careful not to discard joy. Joy must be safely tucked away to be revisited often, to be cherished, admired, relived.

I find portraits of my maternal grandparents, their young, beautiful faces gazing serenely out at me; of my maternal great-grandmother, her aquiline profile turned to gaze eloquently at some far horizon. And discovering in one corner of these exquisite drawings my great uncle Alexandros’ signature, I touch it gently.

My grandmother told stories of Alexandros, with tears in her eyes. “He was the poet of the family,” she would say, “the artist. If he had lived, who knows? He may have been another Kavafy.”

Alexandros died in Siberia. His youth and his talents trampled mercilessly by the Bolshevik rabble who raped, murdered, and tortured its way through Russia and later called their atrocities “a glorious revolution.”

My thoughts immediately jump to what we, in this country, are experiencing right now: the angry misanthropy of a panel of right-wing candidates for the presidency, whose intolerance boggles the mind; the conniving greed, lies, and predatory character of our politics in general. And I wonder if all these charlatans who live off the misery of others ever stop to think that everything they do is pointless.

What is the point of all this greed, this fury, and hatred? What is the point, too, of all those promises, when the truth is that none of us can postpone the inevitable end? History will move steadily in its relentless cycle, eventually crushing those on top and raising those who once were crushed. And the larger cycle of life and death will claim those who consider themselves entitled and those who suffer for it.

The news of late is dire. Savage killings to prove what? That we as humans have not evolved one iota? How does killing end bigotry, prejudice, oppression? All it does is perpetuate a seemingly endless hell. When will all concerned stop to consider the stupidity of their tactics?

When will we learn to let go of our fear of the other—to see that there is no other, that we are one? Our needs, our grief, our joys, are all the same, and everything else is empty air, devoid of meaning or purpose.

We are on this earth for one thing: to embrace life and evolve.

And yet, so many of us continue striding along a circular path, meeting violence with violence; grabbing, demanding, reveling in our greed and rectitude.

Isn’t it time that the few who see the larger picture, the few who know that none of the tried and lethal tactics will ever work, rise up, organize, and begin the process of clearing out the irrelevant, focusing on the creative, the constructive? Isn’t it time we began the process of healing?

The first step is political activism, voting out the old-school, and demanding laws and practices which foster equality and reason; clarifying the fact that dialogue is the only method which effectively deals with differences. And with that step, the essential element is to provide for the education and nurturing of our children.

Beyond schools and places of worship, education should include our behavior as adults. Children imitate—it’s part of their learning process. It is, therefore, incumbent on us, as adults, to be what we want our children to become.

There are basic principles we must not only teach future generations, but learn ourselves as well. Live by growing steadily into your optimum self, developing inherent talents and manifesting them in the world. Remember that no matter what color their skin, what their religious affiliation, all men and women are related in one human race, and value the life, the spirit, they represent. This earth belongs to us all. Respect the other’s right to be here and to thrive. Above all, do no harm to any of the creatures of this world or to this planet.

Yes, I’m reaching for the stars, but we’ve already reached a few outer planets, so, why not? Nothing can be accomplished in half measures.

But first, it’s up to us to clear the decks, and we better do it now, the clock is ticking.