I have been afraid to speak on the Israel and Gaza horror. But I can’t be silent on what hits me so hard that I am afraid to speak . What I have to say has nothing to do with which side is doing what to each other. All the horrors of the world turn my stomach. I am nauseous at what we are capable of as human beings–all of us. Given different conditions we are all capable of taking lives in the name of keeping or reclaiming what we believe to be ours: our family, our homes, our block, our land, our lives, etc. Who hasn’t thought of carry a weapon? Who secretly carries a weapon? Mostly, I don’t read newspapers–not because of the bias or hidden agendas but more so it is the pain and suffering the papers present on the front pages that drops my head. Today, I read my neighbors New York Times. Just page one. Next, I tried to make sense of what we do and how what we do affects every other living human being. I see the bodies huddled on the front page. Eventually, the bodies will be buried but all is not gone or put away that neatly. What is left in our bones has not been buried. I feel the trauma of lands far away and the trauma of living in the midst of sirens here in Oakland, CA. I can only affirm that in some way peace enters the bones in much the same way as trauma. If trauma can be activated in the bones by experiences then so can peace. Except the experience of available peace is just not as loud. I can only feel it when I stop and face the fear of horror. Once I face it, the memory of peace prevails. There will be horror but can we come through it or do we begin again and again at the same place. What we see of ourselves today in Israel and Gaza is us beginning at the same place–at the place of being wronged, at the place of having what we feel should be ours. I have no answers but to question the fear and nausea. We can all question. Hopefully, in the inquiry, the quest to be awake, we see what is needed to be seen of ourselves and grow from our ancient beginnings– at least for the sake of new generations. May all who suffer war, suffer war no more.
Who’s Horror?
