Reconciliation is not to quickly forgive and forget, as if it never happened or we somehow are gifted with a form of amnesia. Reconciliation requires that we remember and change, but with honesty about our experience and curiosity about the humanness of the other whom we fear.
– John Paul Lederach
The Hardest Word
by Kirsty MacColl
With me in the valley you out on the hill
I can just see you if I close my eyes
Climbing those mountains I picture you still
I see your smile just as I saw the sunrise
This land is ancient it’s built out of bones
At war with each other, the mother, the father
The sisters, the brothers, the daughters and sons
Be kind to each other, your father, your mother
On the horizon the eagles are flying
And I mean no more than a cloud in the sky
I never know if I’m laughing or crying
The hardest word is the word goodbye
Teach me the old ways I’m ready to learn
Be kind to the sister, be kind to the brother
The writer, the singer, the poet, the clown
Be good to the man and be kind to them all
And we are ancient built from bones
Make time for the young and make time for the old
Be kind to each other oh that’s what I know
Be kind to the mothers, daughters and sons
The true and the great and the scared and the small
Be kind to each other, be kind to them all
Forgive our indignity and we forgive yours
As I am the mother, you are the father
Entwined in each other, now and forever
The fathers of daughters, the mothers of sons
Forever and ever and ever as one
As we are the fathers, we are the sons
And we are the daughters, the mothers and brothers
Forever and ever and ever as one
Last night I had the strangest dream
I’d ever dreamed before
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war
I dreamed I saw a mighty room
Filled with women and men
And the paper they were signing said
They’d never fight again
And when the paper was all signed
And a million copies made
They all joined hands and bowed their heads
And grateful prayers were prayed
And the people in the streets below
Were dancing ’round and ’round
While swords and guns and uniforms
Were scattered on the ground
Last night I had the strangest dream
I’d never dreamed before
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war.
– Pete Seeger
Yom Kippur
by Beth Kander
I won’t eat, she thought, and that will fix it.
I’ll spend the day fasting and praying as my ancestors did. I’ll wear white clothes and somber expressions. I will murmur ancient prayers and close my eyes and connect with something bigger than myself.
I’ll ask nicely.
I’ll say please.
Over and over, I’ll say I’m sorry.
I’ll apologize to God.
And things will be better.
But first, she thought, I’ll eat.
I’ll make the sort of meal that will see me through twenty-six hours of refraining from repast. I’ll fill my belly and fortify myself for the denial ahead. I’ll be ready.
I’ll have seconds.
I’ll say yes to dessert.
And things will be better.
She ate alone.
Plenty of food.
Her phone buzzed, and she almost didn’t answer it.
Almost sunset, she thought. Who would be calling?
When she saw who was calling, her heart lost the beat, had trouble regaining its rhythm.
If I answer, she thought, I’ll have to apologize.
The thought was uncomfortable.
It would be easier to just apologize to God.
So much easier.
She almost rejected the call. Instead she slid her finger across the screen, and slipped into the conversation she had avoided for so long.
There was a pause.
A breath in, and out.
The longest exhale.
I’m sorry, they both said.
And things were, incrementally, almost imperceptibly, but undeniably, better.
The next Buddha may take the form of a community, a community practicing understanding and loving kindness, a community practicing mindful living. And the practice can be carried out as a group, as a city, as a nation.
– Thich Nhat Hanh
Fred LaMotte:
You’ll find a new world
in the silence
between thoughts.
Plant seeds of peace
there.