Wednesday, March 21, 2012

The Eighth Prayer

Protector, thank you for delivering me into the present moment in spite of all the drag in my past, especially the weeks and months leading-up to now. Though I feel serene, I have also lost vigor and am having trouble finding the space to re-launch. I am reaching for the perspective to transcend; I know that you have given it to me and given me peace that surpasses understanding but there is not constant happiness. I have found that I sit with my sadness, even when I let go of my attachments. I am feeling my deficits, unexplored submerged caverns in my heart. The price of letting-go is that I will not give-up. Lord, put air in my chest. Help me to breath in and out again. Please come down to my level and sit with me in this time so I can learn from you. Do not let me be tempted by fear, perfection, drugs (literal & metaphorical), rage, or any other false comfort that would fill those places. Map my places and teach me to be friends to this sensation. Teach me the meaning of a steady love when my heart is restless.

There are so many more things in life worth learning. Make my eyes young again so that I can look upon the world in wonder. Make my ears old so I can listen with discernment. Make my nose... nothing more or less than it is! Just let me smell spring, summer, fall, and the essence of people close by. Let me smell every beautiful thing and taste wonderful food. Let me feel and be hugged. Bring me inextricably into the present tonight and speak to me. I will always be less than you but with you I never need to be deficient.

Amen.

Monday, March 19, 2012

The Sixth, Seventh & Eighth Lies

To make a quick comment about my mental state, sometimes what doesn't kill you can actually make you stronger. Every re-entry seems to usher-in about half of a new life-stage -- so two re-entries means I am in a different stage of my life than at commissioning.
With this growth has come many insights that I have not always spared time to share. This morning's revelation could be that unrequited longing and having fun are not mutually exclusive. Certainly, the past few weeks have revealed that I cannot discipline myself into accepting myself and that accepting myself makes discipline much easier. If that sounds like a catch-22, then an explanation for my difficulties is not far away. At some point, I had to give myself some unearned slack and take a moment to step-back. Not only did I get that from travel but also from writing a very personal article that I think IOW might be willing to post. Since then, I am noticing how I am able to take pressure off myself to perform without slipping into total hedonism, though the mechanisms are still developing. It can be said for certain that the key is replacing negative mechanisms with neutral ones (perhaps I just debunked another lie?): instead of getting angry with myself for unnecessary browsing, I am teaching myself to recognize it and simply "call halas" on myself. Done.

The sixth lie is that I need to react to things in proportion to their atrocity -- a lesson I think I learned before but could not quite internalize -- as if I am obligated to react on behalf of humanity, with my emotions, to how terrible something is. That is a LIE: just because I find the strength to have a poker-face in the moment doesn't mean I don't care. Two things helped me gain this insight. First of all, my latest entry called for poker-face tactics. Any play-acting would be disingenuous and getting upset was a liability. Being tired helped. While I was waiting to get my skimpy (problematic) 3-week visa I decided that it was okay to take the abuse with a straight-face. It was just plain okay. Neutral mechanism. Whether that came from God, tiredness, or drugs (of which I had none), I don't care: if I am naturally calm when I need to be calm, that's a good thing! I don't need to be any more rattled than I am.

The other debunked lie has to do with more personal things but it amounts to acknowledging gaffs with courage and healthy curiosity. If a pattern continues to occur, it cannot simply be thrown under the bus: it needs to see the light of day with the help of people I trust. The problem with the forbidden fruit, I maintain, was the fig-leaf cover-up (and I read that passage allegorically, in a dream-time sense -- which means it never occurred but it's always happening). To gain clarity, I need to risk hearing bad news or perhaps accepting a new paradigm that I previously thought was "wrong". Make mistakes, admit them, be aware of patterns, etc. A life of dichotomies is too draining. Better to stay engaged with life's diametric tensions.

While I am playing catch-up with my lie detector function (and listening to great play-lists, honestly) I might as well throw the eighth lie into cyber-space for your consideration. No one in their right mind would honestly think that a peace & justice intern could keep his comments to the intrapersonal. There are plenty of lies perpetrated by society and I have become all too familiar with them. Yet, I cannot always be projecting them outward. This one has leaked into my consciousness from time to time:

"If someone would just blow them off the face of the Earth, that would fix things."

LIE. Terrible, evil, insidious lie. Lie that hurt people, lie that keeps hurting people, lie that BROUGHT ME HERE. "Shoot the bad guys" "Us versus them" "Preemptive strike" "By any means necessary". LIES LIES LIES

This is not the last time we hear from this lie, here.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

The Seventh Prayer

First Prayer for the Seventh Chapter

Heavenly One, I want to invite you to paint a beautiful picture on the fabric of my community today. I Hope with my whole heart that all would know what it means to feel valued without needing to feel important, to feel loved without needing to feel central, and to feel supported without being afraid of criticism. Momma, everyday I see evidence of people who have lost their trust in your day-to-day mercies. I see evidence of a people who want to find safety and fulfillment in their own devices, to the exclusion of others. I see people who live in a fantasy that has become a nightmare. God, please touch the Israel inside all of us and be in the process of healing our species of our own misguided ideas. Teach us to humanize not only ‘the other’ but ourselves – bring us down off our own pedestals. Teach a zealot like me to have compassion for Israel when it reminds me of the worst aspects of my own self – help me to see into the mirror, ironically, by taking my eyes off of myself and onto my global family. Teach me that my meaning is not more when I am central because then I have lost my context. Likewise, help me to celebrate that my context means just a little bit more because I am in it!

Yet today is not about me or my job but about remembering the loving support of the family that HAS contextualized me. Thank you for my parents who both not only love me but have been remarkably open to my mission. Thank you for my sister, who I pray I can grow closer to as the years advance. Thank you for grandparents who taught me the best ways to be and for a boss in Palestine who appears to be tying-together and shedding new light on all of what they had to say. Thank you for friends at work and in my host family who have shown me my value precisely. Yet, thank you also for my colleagues around the world who were my first, true peer group—not just in terms of intelligence but in the qualities of our character. I do not know where I would be without the support from the other “YAMs”. All due credit should also go to my most die-hard friends from high school and college – one of whom is nearly a full-fledged psychologist* and the other is, well, Hannah K. Kearby: a unique and sweet character.
With some sadness, I thank you for a friend who needs some space right now. I am helpless to say or do anything except pray to you for her time of development and for me as I continue to wonder...
Thank you for new communities who I have not fully explored – and who have not fully explored me yet either?
Thank you for quiet-time today in the Ramallah Friends’ Center. I certainly hope that you will cause my mind to fruit with fresh insights. Nevertheless, I thank you, El Shaddai, that I never have to be alone in my thoughts because I am part of an entire mural of humanity. Beautiful!

Amen!

*Corinne Brenneman

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Sailing

I have been doing some thinking lately; that is no revelation...

Yet my thoughts have ventured far enough from my usual patterns that I had to concede that making myself understood to everyone at every stage is not feasible – and disruptive. The olive grove image, which concludes the pivotal “He Wept” entry, remains a critical metaphor. My attention has turned to a long history of tension between orientation to outcomes and to process, for years not realizing the depth of the distinction. In summary, I think that neither is more innate than the other, to me, but I worked strenuously to orient to outcomes. I am sure Western culture helped lead me there. I never realized I had the potential for another ‘way of being’ all along. Being divided within myself this way used to scare me into denial but I am choosing, right now, to believe it is not a pathology but a precipitation, as each nature rises and separates from the mixture.

I want to submit a maritime metaphor. Several people advised that I “just live my life” as a way to escape the need to ‘solve’ myself and reach resolution. They suggested what amounts to living an open-ended life, which is a topic I may write about too. My initial reaction was peaceful, since that would mean sliding into the small things about life that I inevitably enjoy. The secondary reaction was more potent and negative. It cannot do it justice without profanity. I told a friend that it was as if someone had told me to go sailing when I did not understand the wind. Suppose that I have lived a long time on the water, shuttling from place to place. The wind has been something in my face, causing me grief. More accurately, there might have been a time that I knew how to sail but I ran into too many storms in a row (truly bad times) and installed a massive outboard engine. For quite a while, it has been drift or drill. I go until I run out of gas. When I do drift and let the engine cool, its equivalent to apathy – I worry where I will run aground. Sometimes, I need a tow but I have inevitably refueled, serviced the engine, and started motoring again and again. Throughout the past five years, I have become more a mechanic than a sea-man.

There is nothing fundamentally wrong with having an engine to get you around in tight spaces, or out of a jam when the wind is raging. There is a certain security one feels, with the capability to take a straight tact in any weather. Yet it seems that I am not a steamer or icebreaker, after all. My engine is only big enough to shuttle me into port, not take me all the way across the oceans in my life. There are sails around here somewhere and I have romantic notions of using them. Nevertheless, it is easy to see what is frightening about trusting the wind when one has seen both the squall and the doldrums. My dedication works against me. Not to mention, the sense of power that comes with going against the wind and currents.

The more peaceful, restful, and natural way is to allow for the wind and be patient with my tackle, if you will allow the pun. It means I have to accept I might end-up ‘somewhere else’ while I learn – that the feeling of being lost (which I keep rediscovering) will be a companion rather than a stranger. Where I once burned energy I will have to burn time instead. I will have to accept taking the longer tact, even doubling-back sometimes, and reimagine what it means to ‘try my best’ at risk of losing recognition in Western culture. My thoughts on the topic run onward but perhaps I should allow the wind to take this metaphor in all your minds – let it sail.

Another friend wondered what the genesis of these paradigm shifts was. I told her. Exploring a little deeper, I found that Palestine is enabling me to see alternatives more easily. I reminded myself that I only have to tip the motor up into the stern, not throw it away. If a jam surfaces, I can drill again. Still, I do not fully understand how to harness wind. For my first clue, I re-understood (yes) another concept from the Pauline epistles, about “praying constantly”. Dutifully, I try to do that but prayer is an unfurling, a source of drag. If I have given myself over to drift, perhaps this ‘drag’ can take on a new meaning. No word, yet, on results.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Antisemitism, Actually

I finally reached an important milestone: I was accused of antisemitism. I earned this esteemed merit-badge recently when I made some comments about tension between Iran and Israel. In essence, I stated that if the world wants to play “shoot the bad guys” then bombing Israel makes more sense. As a staunch pacifist, I condemn all “shoot the bad guys” tactics as unsustainable and unconscionable—and I made that clear. Ethically speaking, I find attacking Israel just as appalling as attacking Iran but from a practical perspective its a better short-term gamble because it would cost so much less than continuing to support Israel; it makes me nauseous to even write that. I stand by my assertion that there is no such thing as a military solution and Iran should be able to pursue its nuclear program to the same extent that everyone else does ~ I hope, none for everyone.

My accuser is an idiot American who decided to use a predictable pile of misinformation to attempt a lecture. As part of ‘becoming Daniel Xavier’, done being a people-pleaser, I decided I did not need his church’s money that badly and simply broke contact. I decided it was time to write the entry on antisemitism I’d been incubating, instead. Being called antisemitic is a twisted honor since I know, now, that I am being vocal enough to garner attention. Antisemitism in Europe sprang from superstition, bad scriptural interpretations, and inexcusable scapegoating. In a dark way, I joke that Israel is trying to remedy the senselessness of antisemitism by giving the world viable reasons to hate Jews. The flaw to that quip is that Israel does not represent world Jewry. Simultaneously, I have never said anything about the Judaic religion or Hebraic people throughout the diaspora, excepting certain Israelis, Israeli policy, and pro-Israel lobbies. I could start naming Jewish people I like but I should not have to gush about Albert Einstein or conscientious Jews I have met personally. For that matter, I follow Israeli human-rights pages with great joy and admiration. Israeli officials accuse Hamas of hiding rockets behind children but Israel, the nation-state, has hidden racist colonialism behind a relatively inoffensive faith tradition: Judaism.

“Antisemitic”, like “antiwhite”, is an obfuscatory, smokescreen label in most cases. Figuratively, the boy is crying wolf. When a Syrian crowd was chanting [trans]: “The Jews in a coffin and the Christians in Beirut {deported}”<<< THAT is antisemitism. I know what real wolves look like. Nevertheless, I could not help but notice the mixed company I have joined. Just as civil rights leaders, of great character, were accused of being “antiwhite” there are also discriminating scumbags who deflect labels like “racist” and “sexist” by crying for their free-speech and making downward social comparisons. Discrimination is not all about heinous acts: it is also about attitudes. My duty is to not fear the label while I fight for Arab human rights but also avoid becoming one of those hateful creatures.

The first step is to see the monster in myself: I am not an antisemite by nature but I have antisemitic tendencies as part of my job. Police on the gang-beat are probably not meditating on Cesar Chavez and Thurgood Marshal as they fulfill their duties-- their feelings about people of color will erode without taking time to be conscious of that deterioration. It took me several minutes to remember that Albert Einstein was Jewish at all because I have positive feelings about that name that naturally disconnect from settlers and IOF soldiers – the ‘Jews’ (practicing or not) that I hear about most. Passing through the checkpoint, the security guard came out of her booth with a lit cigarette, told me she was from Philly, and started to tell me how dangerous it was in Bethlehem [suspicious, brainwashed]. Sitting on the other side, at Tantur, a young Arab from Beit Zefafa crossed several lanes of traffic to make sure I had a place to stay for the night. It was only then that I noticed more than a dozen settlers had passed without acknowledging me [uncaring, irresponsible]. When the taxi arrived, the driver and some of his passengers were unapologetically nasty to a young tourist who had accidentally waited in the wrong place. They just would not quit or even shrug it off [unkind, nit-picky, nasty, elitist]. Between the uniforms, the yarmulkes, and the little star-of-David hanging from the rear-view mirror I can be certain these people are Jewish. I was not actively thinking about Barney Frank, who I like. It was work to pull-up on the reigns and think “these people are individually unappealing; I refuse to categorically condemn or even make a generalization just as I embrace fighting the systemic problems which encouraged them to be this way—none of which are by nature Judaic.” Fighting antisemitic thoughts is also part of my job.

Though this by no means exhausts my thoughts about antisemitism, racism, Islama-phobia, and related topics I believe I am ready to make a decree: readers, it is not the general public’s place to tell me I am being antisemitic. First of all, my former-facebook-friend demonstrated that he lacked requisite understanding of the issue and I am learning to expect no better. Second, and more important, it dawned on me that there are at least forty people, whom I call ‘colleagues’, who know me sufficiently and have heard enough about my work to make assessments about how antisemitic I am being. Added to that are higher officials in General Board of Global Ministry. There are enough people policing me and I refuse to be blown about by just any person with a facebook account. From now on, I am resolving to have faith in my colleagues and let the rest of the world blunder about as they please. If my friends are not already converts to Justice, then I cannot be held accountable for their ignorance beyond telling them the truth in the most complete way I can.


The truth remains: there is nothing that says Israel deserves to continue existing. Period. Israel has been a threat to other nations in the middle-East and the aggressor in the vast majority of circumstances, no matter what the revisionist historians say. Period. Israel, not Judaism, is a drain on US finances and Israel, not world Jewry, possesses destructive capabilities. Period. If I employed “shoot the bad guys” thinking, they would be on the top of my list. Period. I do not, nor will I ever, believe that killing innocent or even GUILTY Israelis is a solution to problems in the middle-East. Period. I employ the “Grace and cordial relations” line of thinking. FULL-STOP. Israel needs to be included in any solution for the Holy Land. Period. No matter how scummy the Israeli, the Iranian, the American, etc, that person is still entitled to God’s love and forgiveness. Period.

Halas: print-it.

The Sixth Prayer

First Prayer for the Sixth Chapter:

Great Guide, I cannot live in a vacuum no matter how hard I try. Things happen to me that are outside of my control. I fail to counter things within my control, sometimes. I fail to build my practices in a way that helps me. When all of these combine, I experience setbacks. At times I choose to feel despair. Other times, I choose to be angry and form a plan. Still more times, I try to continue in whatever vein that I was in, ignoring my slide. I need Your help, God.

I need you to turn my eyes toward my dysfunctions but, at the same time, to train me in new ways to relate to myself. My coping has become dysfunction, as well, and it drives me further and further into this bog. Release me from the muck and show me a new way that I have not thought about before. Teach me to embrace pain as it comes, neither in masochism nor avoidance. Teach me to give myself room to be human without becoming hedonic or apathetic. Teach me to relate to others with kindness and clarity but to be free of their opinions so I can act from a patient heart. Help me never to fear a burned bridge but to avoid carrying torches with me. Give me the strength to do what is necessary but never the mentality of power.

And let something good happen today. Let me be happy about life! Let me forgive myself for what I have done wrong but also walk away from my sins and frustrations. Help me to face the darkness and pass through to the other side, not dwell there eternally or try to run toward the sunset every waking moment. Most of all, draw me closer to you again with open arms. Let me be a saved sheep, a found coin, and a beloved prodigal.

I love you but not nearly enough,

Daniel X.