|
When I first arrived on Okinawa
more than fifty years ago almost everyone told me that I would not want to
leave at the end of my tour of duty. They were right. Okinawa's white sand
beaches and turquoise waters were breathtakingly beautiful. Lush green covered
the island, and I slowly discovered how much I liked it. I was mostly
surrounded by Americans. I saw only Americans where I lived, ate, and
shopped. Even the beaches were filled with Americans.
The largest Air Force base abutted the downtown area of the largest city.
It was busy and noisy, as was the other Air Base. Okinawans disliked all
the American installations on their island. They disliked the Japanese,
also, for putting them there.
I was in our barracks when an order came for personnel to participate in
"crowd control." A large protest had begun outside the downtown
Air Base. All my enlisted men were conscripted. They had no training for
this - we were guerrilla warfare experts - but they did their best to
follow their orders. I discovered later that most of them generally felt
neither hostility nor sympathy for the demonstrators. They merely did the
best they could without preparation, experience, or knowledge of the
situation.
The North Dakota highway patrolmen, small town police officers, sheriffs,
and their counterparts from neighboring rural states are in the same
position. Most have little, if any, experience of this type. They are
dressed for battle, and they are prepared to do battle on the frozen plains
of North Dakota, but with whom? Shivering, defenseless, non-violent people?
This is inherently confusing. The nobility of their profession has been
betrayed. Frightened parts of every personality refuse to accept
possibilities such as this, much less allow emotional experiences of them.
It took me decades to realize that the nobility I assumed my Green Beret
would give me never existed, except in the distorted perceptions of the
parts of my personality that originate in fear, not in love.
The courageous law
enforcement officers who risked their jobs and reputations by refusing to
return to Standing Rock are much more aware of themselves, their values,
and the world than I was on Okinawa. How can we judge their colleagues who
are less aware without expecting others to judge us when we also do the
best we can? (Jesus
asked us this question).
We can instead hold everyone at Standing Rock in our hearts and pray for their health and safety - police
officers, pipeline workers, water protectors, veterans, reporters, and
guests. We can be compassionate with all of them. Compassion is the
medicine that we give to ourselves at the same time that we give it to
others. When we become compassionate with others, we become compassionate
with ourselves too. The Standing Rock gathering, like every experience in
the Earth school, offers us opportunities to give and receive this medicine.
Love,
|
No comments:
Post a Comment