11 things on Memorial Day
What is the path to peace?
From my dear friend Doug Anderson:
“Memorial Day: we died and were maimed, yes, but the war didn't end for us. Our inner lives kept it fresh. Many of us turned against the war and had things to say about it for those capable of listening. We were the sons and daughters of The Greatest Generation and service to our country was in our cells; we went when called because our fathers did. We watched this national memory rot and become toxic. The war created factions in this country that still exist; you are watching it now. It created a class war and it showed politicians what to lie about, and how to keep journalists away from the truth. Power learned nothing from the war. Some of us reached out to our former enemy, looked for understanding, and found it. Do you know who didn't disrespect us despite the incredible damage to their country? Our former enemy. People don't know about these conversations. I was for years an affiliate of the Joiner Institute for the Study of War and its Social Consequences, whose mission was just that. I have returned to Vietnam twice, written about it. Some have made many more trips. One veteran friend of mine says with authority ‘we were fighting for the wrong side.’ BTW let us also think of the Vietnamese this Memorial Day: they lost four million people, half of whom were civilians. And hundreds of thousands are still missing.”
We sit on a park bench and can’t help but overhear the spirited banter of a group of homeless people nearby. The health care proxy paperwork is tucked into my bag. Spread my ashes in Vietnam, he says. It’s my spiritual home. I have people there who will help you. I promise him I will, though add that we need to find a benefactor to send us there together while he’s still kicking. I want to see this place through his eyes, his lens. He tells me the Leica might be worth something. I tell him I hope we can just keep it. Will you visit, I ask? He smiles a little. I’ll be around. How will I know it's you? Smile broadens. Maybe the flowers will grow bigger, he says.
Waking up on Memorial Day, I am writing a fantasy in my head. In the fantasy, nobody tolerates extremists. It’s just not cool. Everyone is totally into people being able to live freely and safely. Everyone acknowledges the pain of the past and honors it. Everyone wants everyone’s kids to grow up in a world filled with compassion and beauty and family and a shared commitment to caring for the earth. Everyone has had their share of grief and catharsis. Everyone says enough already, let’s heal, let’s go for a swim, let’s eat, let’s rest, let’s laugh, let’s sit quietly.
I almost don’t allow myself to play out this fantasy. A barrage of criticisms flood in. You can fill in your own, I’m sure.
But why not have it anyway? Is there value in that, or is it a mere exercise in folly and naivete and idealism, a recipe for more heartbreak?
We are living in a timeline where history matters less and less. I write sweeping pronouncements but don’t have the motivation to back them up. Pronouncements without depth are part of the problem of this timeline. Am I part of the problem? Oy.
Fun fact: The word “oy” has biblical origins. Who knew?
Yesterday was 5/25/25. A palindrome day. According to one source, “This portal is bringing: endings of karmic cycles and emotional patterns, rapid manifestation and quantum shifts, new beginnings rooted in clarity, a powerful mirror for inner healing and higher purpose. Use this portal to realign, release, and receive.”
Yes, it’s off the charts woo-woo. But I live for this stuff. And as I revisit my questions from earlier and consider them through this lens, something comes into view. Something about expanding the field. On a deeply personal level, I have experienced over the past few months an opening borne of letting all of the old patterns and stories surface and stepping into a more spacious vision of what’s possible. And while it is a vision, it is also rooted in and embodied in real life and the choices we make every day.
How can this scale to something larger? Again, big questions, maybe not so useful. Maybe the useful thing is seeing, on this Memorial Day morning, that a) it’s impossible to release the past without first facing it with honesty, no matter how messy and painful, b) you can not go back, c) things were never as simple as your story would have them seem, d) so much of healing isn’t about reaching a point of “rightness” or consensus but rather of listening and honoring, e) it is never a waste of time to dream and fantasize, f) ditto for birdwatching, park perusing, friend connecting, and couch resting, g) wow this list is getting long, h) I don’t have to wait for a different time to connect with my visions, both personal and global, of abundance and joy and beauty and peace.
If a Vietnam veteran wants his ashes scattered in the place where he witnessed and experienced unspeakable violence and pain, who am I, who are we, to say what is possible or impossible? What is the path to peace if not our every step?
Peace is every step
The shining red sun is my heart.
Each flower smiles with me.
How green, how fresh all that grows.
How cool the wind blows.
Peace is every step.
It turns the endless path to joy
— Thich Nhat Hanh
As always, Jena, a lot to think about! Peace. Shalom.
A Biblical Oy.