What Do Quakers, Yogis, and Celtic Spirituality Have in Common?

Two years ago I met a man with the finest beard I've ever seen: the mighty Nicholaes Roosevelt, Swami of Connecticut, a beautiful, wise, and extremely funny man who helps people feel grounded within the mystery by his very presence.  I've spent a couple of amazing weeks with Nick in the West of Ireland, when he has, among other things, cooked remarkable food, taught me Sufi words that make me feel awake and happy just by saying them, and shown that the life of the spirit cannot be divorced from the life of the body, and the earthier the experience of the body, the better.  (Anyone who tells you that Red Bull and cigarettes are antithetical to the mystic life obviously doesn't know their Swamis.) I'm privileged to be involved in a retreat with Swami Nick that is happening in just a couple of months at the Woolman Hill Quaker Center, in Deerfield, Massachussetts.  I'm excited to say that everyone is welcome, and if you're a regular reader of this blog I can't think of a better place to meet.  More information is below in a note from Nick - I'd love to see you there.

[I wanted to include a photo of Swami Nick, but couldn't photoshop myself out of the two I have of us together - one in which I look like the very definition of unphotogenic, the other in which I am wearing an unfortunate t-shirt.  So I used this picture instead because it has nice lights in it.  It's called 'White Noise/White Light', and is by Höweler + Yoon/MY Studi.  Take my word for it, Nick has the greatest beard on earth.  And being on retreat with him will likely be a highlight of your year.]

Swami's Invitation:

Dear Friends, you are cordially invited to Woolman Hill's Summer Solstice Retreat, "THE LIGHT WITHIN"

What do Quakers, Yogis and Celtic Christians have in common?

Guest speakers from each tradition will guide us in practices that connect us to "The Light Within'. On Sat. evening we will have a Celtic concert with the magnificent Kate Chadbourne, and a solstice bonfire. (This event is open to the public.)

Each day will begin with a morning meditation led by Swami Dayananda from Satchidananda ashram, or a Quaker meeting for worship guided by a member of our Quaker panel, followed by a wholesome breakfast. Our mornings will be conducted in silence, including a presentation from one of our guests; the afternoons given to group discussions with our panelists, free time and a yoga class for beginners and the more experienced. The retreat will be informed by the practice of "DEEP LISTENING AND SKILLFUL SPEECH". You will go home with practices you can use to maintain an easeful body, peaceful mind, and a useful life; practices you you can use to stay connected to The Light Within.

Please Join us; I guarantee this will be a bright time, joyful, and peaceful. To register go to woolmanhill.org; for questions call 413 774 3431

"If thy eye be single thy whole body shall be filled with light" Luke 1:34

"The cosmic Spirit shines constantly within the heart as a white light the size of a thumb." The katha Upanishad

Tabloid Revenge, Tabloid Forgiveness

Photo above from www.urbanseed.org in Melbourne, Australia

Driving around Belfast, the city of my birth and upbringing today, it's obvious that the police are responding to an increased threat - they're wearing flak jackets for the first time in years, and you can tell from the looks on other people's faces that we're all fearful of the same thing: that someone will, yet again, try to kill another human being because of the uniform they're wearing.

We all, of course, hope and pray that the shootings of the last month are an aberration, and that the public outcry will reduce the potential for their recurrence, but it's impossible to be sure of what it would take to prevent further violence in northern Ireland.  The people arrested in connection with last month's killings range from 17 years old to middle age.  As far as they are concerned, their political cause legitimises the use of violence to achieve what they perceive to be justice.   Confronting them with the human costs might make a contribution.  So when the Belfast Telegraph, northern Ireland's most widely read newspaper, publishes a front page story like this,  where generosity and grace are headlined as a lack of forgiveness,  I have to ask if we have either simply learned nothing from the past, or if we don't want to.

'I can't forgive my husband's killers', says Kate Carroll, whose husband Stephen was murdered less than six weeks ago.  But is it our business to know this, or even to ask the question?  How did the paper get her to say that?  Someone clearly had to go to her house, and ask her 'can you forgive?'  We have been particularly bad at humanising each other in my home society.  I think that the story about Mrs Carroll represents a crude exploitation of a shocked and grieving woman.

Later in the same issue of the paper, Mrs Carroll is quoted as saying:

"Please search your hearts and minds and walk a mile in the shoes of the people you have left behind to mourn the loss of their loved ones. Believe me it’s not an easy thing to do; you will only ever understand that heartbreaking pain when it comes knocking on your door...

Please, please, search your heart and conscience and stop this nonsensical behaviour, forget the deep hatred you possess, live your young lives without the profound bitterness you carry in your hearts and just remember your life on this earth is not a rehearsal; you only ever get one chance at it, so my advice to you is to use it wisely.

You’ll be old before you know it, living with untold regrets, so please, please reconsider what you are doing, the harm and carnage you are leaving behind.

Let the next generations of younger people live in a peaceful country, a country loved by other nations because the people are, and I quote, “so warm and friendly”. Why then can’t we apply that warmth to each other?"

I'm not quite sure how the 'I can't forgive' part of the story managed to become the headline, when in fact Mrs Carroll's words appear to be so full of grace and generosity.  It angers me that the easy option of tabloid rage-stirring was used as the default option for highlighting the story, rather than finding a way to express the incredibly complex and painful journey that this woman must be living through.  Mrs Carroll needs to be allowed to go through her shock and grief without interference from the media.  The rest of us have a responsibility to re-humanise the world.  Let's begin with facing one part of our reality that we usually prefer to ignore: The continuum of dehumanisation that ends with the taking of human life begins in the ideas and behaviour of individuals who would never consider actually using violence against another person.  So the restless hope that not one more human life will be taken in the cause of Irish politics needs to go further than merely denouncing people who use violence; it needs to do better than doorstep recently widowed people, who are only beginning to come to terms with the shock of their loss; it needs to take the risk of looking inward, and asking what every one of us needs to do to stop dehumanising others.  This may not be enough on its own to prevent further physical violence, but it's the right thing to do.

Further Thoughts on Non-Violence (3): How can we talk about Forgiveness?

Ok, so the photo above might seem a bit obvious, but two things are also self-evident to me.  1: Parts of the place where I grew up really are that beautiful.  2: A re-engagement with beauty is perhaps the core of  what is necessary to save the world.

I'm back home in Belfast briefly, for the first time since I moved to the US.  It's beautiful to be re-welcomed by longstanding friends, but there is still a kind of detachment in knowing that I don't live here anymore.  I'm back at a time when tragedy has made its presence felt with force, in the midst of the long and difficult road toward a peaceful political settlement.

Three people were murdered, and several have been injured in the past few weeks, in attacks carried out by people who do not support the process that has already led to a power-sharing government, the release of all politically-motivated prisoners, and the establishment of a strong human rights and equality culture, along with one of the most transparent policing services in the world.  After nearly 4000 people were killed, most between 1969 and 1994, three new names were added to the list read out on Good Friday at a memorial service.  48 year old police constable Stephen Carroll and young soldiers  Patrick Azimkar and Mark Quinsey were shot dead in March.

On the way from the airport when I arrived back a few days ago, I drove past the barracks where the soldiers were killed; I hadn't felt those emotions for a long time.  There is a changed atmosphere for some of us.  We have had traumatic memories re-stirred; the old feelings of cautiousness with strangers, and discretion about personal conversation are detectable, and could threaten to return to everyday life in northern Ireland.  At the same time, some of the reaction to the murders has exemplified how far we have come as a society, with cross-community condemnation mingled among profound public mourning, and some large scale protests by people sick and tired of being used as human shields for ideological purity.

It's impossible to be sure of what it would take to prevent further violence.  The people arrested in connection with the killings range from 17 years old to middle age.  As far as they are concerned, their political cause legitimises the use of violence to achieve what they perceive to be justice.   Confronting them with the human costs might make a contribution to challenging this notion, which, to my mind, has never been legitimate.  But we struggle, because our public conversation these days seems so colonised by cynicism and shortcut that a re-assertion of human dignity may be not only necessary, but inevitable, as people are confronted by the costs of not taking life seriously.

There's a specific example I have in mind.  I'll write more about it later.  For the time being, it's Easter Sunday, and the resurrection that hundreds of millions are remembering offers the most transcendent reason to value human life: because it might just last forever.

Film Recommendation of the Week: 'Man Push Cart'

I don't usually do recommendations of the week; heck often I don't do recommendations at all. But after the exhiliration of wall to wall documentary at the Full Frame Festival, I settled in last night, as I am wont to do, to catch up on a film I know I should have seen earlier, but was watching something else at the time.

Ramin Bahrani's film 'Man Push Cart' is deceptively simple. It's about a man struggling to make a living in America. This struggle prevents him from making a life. He's from Pakistan, and we see the ties that bind his ethnic community - everyone knows each other, but unlike some romanticised visions of immigration ('The Godfather' is an interesting example), they don't always help each other.

Ahmad sells coffee and bagels in Manhattan. People are often friendly to him. Some are not. He used to have family, home, money. Now he doesn't.

'Man Push Cart' is so well crafted that it's almost too slick - and there are some potentially unsubtle notes in an otherwise sparse and thoughtful script. But - and this is why it is my recommendation of the week (there may never be another such recommendation, so listen carefully ;-)) - it is a supremely confident piece of early work from a director whom Roger Ebert has just pronounced the 'new great American director'.

It feels like real life.

It starts before we see anything; and the characters live on after the fade out. It doesn't do much more than tell an honest story of struggle - mingling questions of the diversity of US society, the barriers between cultures, and the death-dealing of privatised capitalism vs. communitarianism. If, as my co-host on The Film Talk, Jett Loe has come to believe, 'staged cinema' is dying, 'Man Push Cart' rages against this, because although it is a work of constructed fiction, it feels like a documentary. It doesn't offer anything easy; and challenges us to live more humanely. Given that such a challenge has become one of my litmus tests for the meaning of art, 'Man Push Cart' succeeds where others fear to tread.

Update: Please note spoilers follow in comments below.

Some Thoughts from the New Book: What is America?

I'm currently writing a book about how cinema explains my adopted country - the most well known art form of the US should reasonably be expected to be a key interpretative tool for understanding America, right?

I  don't want to give too much away at this point, but suffice to say, Oklahomans know how to dance, Massachussetts residents like sea food, and people from Illinois believe in any means necessary to stop other people drinking whiskey.

What's most obvious from my research so far is that America  (and I use the term 'America' in the knowledge that I'm referring to the 48 contiguous states between Mexico and Canada, the large cold one to the left, and the exotic series of islands on the way to New Zealand.  I usually say 'the United States', but 'America' has become such a mythical term that it seems appropriate) hasn't settled its own mind about what it wants to be.

Kansas produced a militaristic President (Eisenhower) who later said that no glory in battle was worth the blood it costs.

Oklahoma - one of the most conservative states in the Union - also has the most registered Democrats.

The popular movies produced in the land that loves to call itself 'free' are disproportionately pre-occupied with the violent taking of human life for our viewing pleasure.

America, in the movies, at least, is the definition of paradox.  And its mind is not yet made up.   Zhou Enlai is supposed to have said, in the 1950s, that it was 'too early to tell' the consequences of the French Revolution of 1789 - and that social movement was only thirteen years younger than newly constitutionalised America.  So then it's also too early to tell what America is.  Or maybe I'm misleading myself - for diversity of opinion does not necessarily equate to a lack of confidence in national ideals.  Maybe that's what America is: everything?

So, friends, I'd value any thoughts on the following question, in the comments section below:

What, in one sentence, is America?