War and Peace

War and Peace

A group of Buddhist monks is currently walking from Texas to Washington, DC on what they call the “Walk for Peace.” They are in the Charlotte vicinity now, and passed near downtown this morning. Here they are on Hawthorne Lane near Central Avenue:

Hundreds of people line the sidewalks and roadsides everywhere they go.

As they approached, police leading the procession stopped traffic at the busy intersection nearby. The world fell quiet. The woman next to us stepped barely into the street, timidly, and waved to the monastic in the front. He paused. “This is my mother,” she said, pointing to the older woman beside her. “She is having a major surgery very soon.”

The women were looking for a blessing.

The monk paused, and several of his cadre with him. They offered the mother a flower and a blessing for peace and health. Then they walked on.

A Walk for Peace monk offers a word to a woman on the sidewalk.

The crowd remained still and quiet for a few moments, and then dispersed.

I didn’t intend to go see the walk, but I needed the contrast. Right now, I tend to go to sleep thinking about the day’s news and wake up looking to see what awful thing happened overnight. In Minneapolis on Wednesday night, federal agents shot a human being. When crowds gathered in protest of the shooting and in defense of their neighborhood, those agents deployed chemical weapons. The CS gas and pepper spray prompted one father of six to leave with his children. While he tried to depart, those federal agents threw a flash-bang–a “less lethal” stun grenade–at the man’s car. With the kids inside, including a six-month-old baby.

Our federal government is throwing weapons of war at babies.

And shooting mothers in the face.

And going door to door in search of people who are not white.

And arresting white people who are insufficiently scared of them.

We live in a zombie-fied era of slave catchers and the Fugitive Slave Act. I know that tyranny is not new on this soil and body-snatching is not new on this earth. Nevertheless, it is hard to rest knowing that the government is launching a war on its ideological opponents.

This morning while waiting for the blessed monastics to pass by, I was thinking about a similar experience. In the wake of more horrific American violence during the second Iraq War, my friend Seth Carper and I drove from Richmond to Washington, DC to hear the Dalai Lama speak at Washington National Cathedral. These being the days before GPS on cell phones, and DC traffic being what it is, we were a bit late. There were no more available seats inside. Hundreds of people like us were instead sitting on the sidewalk and lying down in the grass around the cathedral, while the talk was played over speakers. Traffic was redirected and the crowd was silent so as to hear the word clearly.

I recall the impression that the talk was simple and profound at the same time. I have no idea what His Holiness actually said, though. I cannot forget the image of a sea of people all around, all quiet amid a busy city. We were there, violence raging not too far away, seeking a blessing.

Upcoming Publication: This week I submitted an essay for this book, co-edited by my friend Patrice Gopo.

That’s one helluva roster. My essay is about the importance of research in spiritual writing. I struggled with it, but I think it came out ok after about 800 revisions. I look forward to sharing more about the book down the road.

One Last Note: I’ve had the occasion lately to play the music of drummer Paul Motian with some Charlotte colleagues. Here’s a recording of my late friend, the great Frank Kimbrough, playing one of Paul’s best-known tunes, with Paul on drums.