Who are we? Why are we here? What matters?
What if our mission statement was Meg Wheatley's plea: "Take care of yourself. Take care of each other. Take care of this place"?
These questions and their answers must be the heart of our communities. If we don't ask these questions and live our answers, we have no basic understanding of and agreement about what we are doing here, no agreement about why we belong together.
This past November 11th -- Remembrance Day here in Canada -- I stood, as I do every year, with some of my neighbours near the cenotaph in the beautiful little seaside village I call home, honouring those who have died in war.
Listening to the local high school band (including my daughter and her friends) playing for the event, remembering an uncle whom I never had the pleasure to meet, the tears flowed.
I always feel emotional at the Remembrance Day ceremony, partly because my uncle -- Cpl. Roy Ovington -- who grew up here on Vancouver Island, at Youbou, died in battle at the tender age of 19. Partly for the tens of millions of people who have died at the hands of other people. Partly because humanity is still at war, though I've now lived through 54 Remembrance Days and heard the same pleas for peace.
For some reason, this year, I felt especially emotional, looking around the crowd. Perhaps because my only son is about to turn 20, and has his whole life ahead of him, and my uncle didn't get his. Perhaps because the better world we were supposedly creating by fighting those wars hasn't materialized for most of humanity.
I looked around and saw the familiar faces of the neighbours I see day to day or month to month, year after year -- and as I saw them, I remembered their back stories. The pain they have felt, the challenges they have faced. What they have endured.
Being human involves suffering. Things don't always go smoothly, in the life of an individual, a family, a community, a nation. We humans are always struggling to make our world -- no matter how big that is to us -- a better place.
When we are really in the thick of some of what life hands us (a terminal illness, a loss by death or divorce, loss of employment or a long cherished dream), our world can feel pretty small. Many of our brothers and sisters around the planet are imprisoned in the tiny, terrorized worlds of war zones or abject poverty, slowly dying from hunger and disease.
It struck me, standing there with tears in my eyes, that really, at the heart of it, we're more the same than we think. That we all want the same things, though we have different ideas about how to get them.
What do we all want?
I think we all want to live in a place where healthy, happy people of all ages live together peaceably and productively, in communities that cooperate ... with each other, and with the land we live on. A world that is at peace. What prevents this? I don't think humanity as a group has learned how to live the virtue of humanity.
To practice the virtue of humanity, Linda Kavelin Popov reminds us, "We must have an attitude of caring and mercy towards all people. All of us breathe the same air. All of us care about our children's future. We all suffer and we all rejoice. Though in the big scheme of things, each individual is small, we are one of a kind, irreplaceable. We lose our humanity whenever we generalize about a group of people and separate ourselves from them because of external characteristics, like race or gender."
I think we lose our humanity when we generalize about a group of people and separate ourselves based on religion or political ideology as well. There is no "they," only "us."
I recently was elected to the Council in the municipality where I live. I talked a lot about inclusiveness, about communication, about working on making it possible for marginalized people in our area to make a life here. It's become very clear to me that we can create the kind of community we all want. The kind of world community where individuals rise above the narrow confines of personal concerns, and serve the broader concerns of their neighbors.
The wider concerns of humanity.
Bruce Lee had it right when he said being "willing is not enough; we must do. Knowing is not enough; we must apply."
To really remember and honour those who died in battles -- both soldiers and civilians -- we ought to become the kind of community, worldwide, that they sacrificed their lives for.
Together, we can.
Namaste ~ Kate
The Practice of Humanity
I feel a common bond with all people.
I value each and every person as an individual.
I refrain from prejudice.
I feel empathy for the suffering of others.
I have a passion for compassion.
I offer humanitarian service.
I am thankful for the gift of Humanity. It connects me to all people.
Reflection Questions
What service does my humanity call me to?
What action would help me answer the call?
What if our mission statement was Meg Wheatley's plea: "Take care of yourself. Take care of each other. Take care of this place"?
These questions and their answers must be the heart of our communities. If we don't ask these questions and live our answers, we have no basic understanding of and agreement about what we are doing here, no agreement about why we belong together.
This past November 11th -- Remembrance Day here in Canada -- I stood, as I do every year, with some of my neighbours near the cenotaph in the beautiful little seaside village I call home, honouring those who have died in war.
Listening to the local high school band (including my daughter and her friends) playing for the event, remembering an uncle whom I never had the pleasure to meet, the tears flowed.
I always feel emotional at the Remembrance Day ceremony, partly because my uncle -- Cpl. Roy Ovington -- who grew up here on Vancouver Island, at Youbou, died in battle at the tender age of 19. Partly for the tens of millions of people who have died at the hands of other people. Partly because humanity is still at war, though I've now lived through 54 Remembrance Days and heard the same pleas for peace.
For some reason, this year, I felt especially emotional, looking around the crowd. Perhaps because my only son is about to turn 20, and has his whole life ahead of him, and my uncle didn't get his. Perhaps because the better world we were supposedly creating by fighting those wars hasn't materialized for most of humanity.
I looked around and saw the familiar faces of the neighbours I see day to day or month to month, year after year -- and as I saw them, I remembered their back stories. The pain they have felt, the challenges they have faced. What they have endured.
Being human involves suffering. Things don't always go smoothly, in the life of an individual, a family, a community, a nation. We humans are always struggling to make our world -- no matter how big that is to us -- a better place.
When we are really in the thick of some of what life hands us (a terminal illness, a loss by death or divorce, loss of employment or a long cherished dream), our world can feel pretty small. Many of our brothers and sisters around the planet are imprisoned in the tiny, terrorized worlds of war zones or abject poverty, slowly dying from hunger and disease.
It struck me, standing there with tears in my eyes, that really, at the heart of it, we're more the same than we think. That we all want the same things, though we have different ideas about how to get them.
What do we all want?
I think we all want to live in a place where healthy, happy people of all ages live together peaceably and productively, in communities that cooperate ... with each other, and with the land we live on. A world that is at peace. What prevents this? I don't think humanity as a group has learned how to live the virtue of humanity.
To practice the virtue of humanity, Linda Kavelin Popov reminds us, "We must have an attitude of caring and mercy towards all people. All of us breathe the same air. All of us care about our children's future. We all suffer and we all rejoice. Though in the big scheme of things, each individual is small, we are one of a kind, irreplaceable. We lose our humanity whenever we generalize about a group of people and separate ourselves from them because of external characteristics, like race or gender."
I think we lose our humanity when we generalize about a group of people and separate ourselves based on religion or political ideology as well. There is no "they," only "us."
I recently was elected to the Council in the municipality where I live. I talked a lot about inclusiveness, about communication, about working on making it possible for marginalized people in our area to make a life here. It's become very clear to me that we can create the kind of community we all want. The kind of world community where individuals rise above the narrow confines of personal concerns, and serve the broader concerns of their neighbors.
The wider concerns of humanity.
Bruce Lee had it right when he said being "willing is not enough; we must do. Knowing is not enough; we must apply."
To really remember and honour those who died in battles -- both soldiers and civilians -- we ought to become the kind of community, worldwide, that they sacrificed their lives for.
Together, we can.
Namaste ~ Kate
The Practice of Humanity
I feel a common bond with all people.
I value each and every person as an individual.
I refrain from prejudice.
I feel empathy for the suffering of others.
I have a passion for compassion.
I offer humanitarian service.
I am thankful for the gift of Humanity. It connects me to all people.
Reflection Questions
What service does my humanity call me to?
What action would help me answer the call?
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