One Life With Each Other: Sisters, Brothers

Twice today I had to close the door of my office, just for a few minutes, to allow the tears. The frightened bursts of communication coming from the people of Iran gave me the visual of a light dimming. The light of hope and peace that seemed so bright last Monday was being dimmed by the relentless pounding of black batons, and worse.

During one of these emotional interludes I caught myself, for a moment, thinking "Wow, almost everyone around would think I'm overreacting. Am I overreacting?" I soon recalled something I read from William Wilberforce: "If to be feelingly alive to the sufferings of my fellow-creatures is to be a fanatic, I am one of the most incurable fanatics ever permitted to be at large.” By the time I was collecting myself, it seemed crazy NOT to be reacting to the suffering. Real people are being killed, beaten and terrorized.

It was Tuesday around ten in the evening, when I first heard of my son’s arrest. I got shocked and I found myself in total despair. Amin is only seventeen years old and is currently in eleventh grade and attending the program in his school. I immediately started to look for him, experiencing very hard and painful moments. Moments that neither cinema nor any other kind of art will ever be able to express. What I went through and witnessed that night is not easy to describe…I had no idea where they had taken my son to, therefore I stared looking in every ambulance, every police station and every hospital in town. I came face to face with other parents looking for their children as well. Mothers screaming and calling the names of their sons and daughters. Fathers weeping silently. Terrified kids in police stations awaiting their faith…it was a total nightmare.

As I mentioned a few days ago, the close proximity (via technology) of this suffering makes it unique and adds the personal dimension I'm just not used to in world politics. I don't get to read the blog of a mourning North Korean mother whose son was falsely accused and publicly executed. I don't get frantic Twitter updates from a woman in the Congo as she tries to escape the militia's rape squads. I didn't have fresh cell phone video of the last moments of the 50-60 Iraqis killed by a bomb in Baghdad today. It's hard to imagine my reaction if I did have that access. I'm almost thankful I don't, but it's no less real.

Am I overreacting? I think I've barely even begun to react...

The Courage to Walk Out Into the Street

"In retrospect, all revolutions seem inevitable. Beforehand, all revolutions seem impossible." Michael McFaul

I am drawn to the Iran election protests. By drawn, I mean I feel a magnetic pull radiating from my solar plexus toward the men and women demonstrating bravery and independence in the face of violence and death. I see the massive crowd walking in quiet defiance, and I want to be there. I see the peaceful response to violence, and I am in awe. I see videos of beatings, and I want to offer protection. I hear the haunting shouts of Allah-u-Akbar from darkened rooftops in Tehran, and I get chills. I see a video of the moment of a young woman's death, shot to death by militia trying to stop the protesters, and I beat my chest in sorrow. I can't link it, it's too awful, but you can find it if you try. Her name was Neda.

Why are my emotions so strong for my Iranian brothers and sisters? Is it because for the first time in history the revolution is actually being "televised"? Because I can read and see and hear the struggles within minutes of it happening? Before I went about my day this morning, I watched a newly uploaded video of the streets of Tehran. Knowing that this is literally happening during my day, and I can easily see it, how can that NOT affect my day? According to someone who says they were with Neda when she was killed, she was shot about 9:30 a.m. my time. I saw it about 3 p.m. the same day.

Is it because the people look like me? It's certainly a more "Western" side of Iranian culture than we usually get to see. The young woman dying on the street looks like someone I saw at the store yesterday. The young man getting clubbed looks like me. The disillusioned revolutionary running down the street looks like my good friend. The pervasive presence and use of technology looks like me and my friends.

Is it because my soul is awake to its purpose and is inherently drawn to the suffering of my human family? Is it because my deep-seated pride immediately rebels against the boot of dictatorship?

I say yes to all, and more reasons I can't even describe yet.

So now what? I feel helpless. I am helpless. The revolution still feels impossible, and even if successful the result is an unknown. But enough has happened already to warrant real emotion, and I agonize for an action. If all this does is make me more grateful for my insanely peaceful and easy life, that seems like I would have wasted an opportunity. It doesn't seem enough that I simply gripe less, and be a kinder and more peaceful person. Am I stuck with the feeble Butterfly Effect of my choice to live nonviolently? These questions are not just rhetorical, they beg for an answer, even if that answer is not a satisfyingly-definable action. Please, offer your thoughts.

I'll keep working toward an answer, but for now, my feeble peace and love are better than nothing. Today, my brothers and sisters, I am Iranian too. Allah-u-Akbar!

What More in the Name of Love

I've heard it said that your heroes are people that are living what you aspire after. In that case, Dr. Izeldeen Abuelaish is a hero to me. I contemplate, talk about and aspire to live peacefully, even in the face of violence, and Dr. Izeldeen Abuelaish lives it.

I heard a story on NPR this week that grabbed my attention. It was about a Gazan doctor who had 3 of his children killed in their home by the Israeli army on Friday, January 16 of this year. The doctor lived in Gaza but worked in Israel and in Gaza, serving Jewish and Palestinian patients. I could certainly understand if Dr. Abuelaish responded in the anguish of a dad and lashed out at others, particularly those that killed his girls. Instead, Dr. Abuelaish is responding with a simple philosophy: "Love each other, help each other, respect each other."

Before the tragedy, Dr. Abuelaish, who had ties with Israeli and Palestinian leaders and media, was known regionally for his belief in peace and nonviolence. As he said, "This is the path I believed in and what I raised and educated my children to believe."

During the Israeli-Gaza battle earlier this year, Dr. Abuelaish stayed in his Gaza home with his 5 children. He stayed in constant contact with outside media, believing this contact and his reputation kept his family safe. Instead, tragedy. In his words:

"My daughters were just sitting quietly talking in their bedroom at home," Dr. Izeldeen Abuelaish told me on the phone between sobs. "I had just left the room, carrying my youngest son on my shoulders. Then a shell came through the wall. I rushed back to find their dead bodies - or rather parts of their bodies - strewn all over the room. One was still sitting in a chair but she had no legs."

Unimaginable pain. Through his connections, Dr. Abuelaish was able to get medical help for his family that survived, but 3 of his daughters plus a niece died in the attack. The victims were Bisan, 20, Mayar, 15, Aya, 13, and the doctor's niece Nur, 17. "My eldest daughter was five months away from finishing her degree in business and financial management. She was looking forward to the future and I was so proud of her." You can find some video from that night HERE.

From the night of the tragedy through today, even during intense and public grief, Dr. Abuelaish has remained steadfast that "Military ways are futile, for both. Words are stronger than bullets. We have to understand each other. We have to respect each other as a human, as equal, and that the dignity of both is equal." Equality, not revenge. Dr. Abuelaish even accepted the Israeli Army's fact-finding which found its mistake "reasonable."

In his interview with NPR, Dr. Abuelaish said his faith in God is helping sustain his belief in peace and the possibility of love. "As a believer, as a Muslim, with deep and strong faith, everything which comes from God is good. Why I was selected? Why my daughters were selected? For a purpose, for something good," He believes that Allah is using the tragedy to help the doctor get out the message that "Gazans are dying. They are human beings like others." Another fruit of hope from this tragedy is that Dr. Abuelaish is establishing a foundation, from the money paid as compensation by the Israeli government, to provide scholarships and support for the education and health of Palestinian women and girls.

Dr. Abuelaish prays that maybe his daughters will be the last sacrifice, that his children would be the last price for peace.

I find this a truly remarkable story of grace. Dr. Izeldeen Abuelaish is a heroic man.

Here is the interview that introduced me to Dr. Abuelaish. Five minutes of airtime; five more minutes of turning a tragedy into a step toward a more peaceful world.

If You’re the Prosecution I Get Away With Murder

The meaning of the word Murder is exactly what I have been pondering. If I saw a man driving a car through crowds of children, and I saw he was headed toward another group – what force is appropriate to stop him? I invite you to answer that question for yourself too. The answer probably jumps to us pretty quickly.

Here is the rub, what do I (or you) REALLY believe about the meaning of the term "unborn child"?

The tragic killing of Dr. George Tiller challenges our true beliefs about the unborn. Dr. Tiller was willing to perform abortions after the 21st week of pregnancy. If I actually believed that 21-week (and later) fetuses were unborn children, then isn't the same amount of force appropriate to stop Tiller the same as if he were driving a car through crowds of children?

If I don't condone using brute force to stop persons like Tiller, am I conceding I don't really believe he was killing unborn children or conceding I'm a coward? I wish people who toss around words like "abortion is murder" and "you're killing unborn children" would think about this. If they mean it, and they're not stalking abortion doctors are they cowards?

Personally, since I can’t be sure a 21-week fetus is a life, I can decry Tiller’s murder. But I am aware of the safety of my choice.

Life Should be Fragrant, Roof Top to the Basement

One year ago, on June 2, 2008, I lost my grandpa. I had been amazingly blessed to have known all of my grandparents for my whole life until that day. He was my dad's dad. He was a unique and loving man and I miss him. While driving to his funeral, I wrote these words to him, and the tears are as fresh today in re-typing them as they were the day I wrote them.


Dear Popo,
They say, and you agreed, that the best thing about grandparenting is getting to spoil the kids and enjoy them but none of the responsibility. It seems that works both ways. We got your best. Without the complications and baggage of others' problems and hurts, you gave me unconditional love and acceptance. I feel wildly blessed to have gotten that. I am sorry your loss of hearing affected our communication, but you never had any trouble communicating that you loved me and affirmed me. The thing I love most from you is that same love for Casey and the boys. I saw you expand your family, more than once, with sincerity.

So many fun times: arcades, camping, fires in your yard, games in your living room, donuts, pancakes, puzzles, hobbies... I remember telling you one time that when I was younger I went to other places and did things, but when I was at your house I was the center, it was about me. It was just part of a conversation then, but I'm so glad I told you. Visiting as an adult was the same. How was I? What was new? What was interesting? What were the boys doing? Your broad smile and strong hands and arms.

I am proud to look like you and to carry your name. I am, after all, 25% you. What 25% do I choose to believe I carry? Donuts of course - that's literally in my DNA. But also questioning conventional wisdom, a penchant for puzzles, the ability to change, love of the odd thing (let's call it "unique" things), and sharp wit (and tongue?).

I carry part of you with me but I will miss your fountain of love and affirmation. I feel regret for not drinking in more. But you would just beam and say "We are happy to see you, come back when you can, I love you." Thank you, Popo, thank you.

I miss you but your investment of love and affirmation lives on. I hope that it honors you (even as I write this I see your beaming smile, of course it does).

That felt almost happy and now a few minutes later here I am so sad. As Henri says, dancing turns to mourning and mourning to dancing with no clear lines.

Grandparents occupy a unique throne. Thank you for using yours for me.

Your loving grandson.

InterviewProject.com

David Lynch launched the Interview Project today. Lynch's son and another film documentarian traveled 20,000 miles in a meandering trip across the United States and back. Along the way, the two interviewed hundreds of people. The Project posted the first interview today and a new one will follow every 3 days for a year.

I'm a fan of Lynch's work and I am drawn to the humanity of this project. Based on the first interview, I am expectant.

InterviewProject.com

"Regrets? Oh, I got a whole
bushel basket of them but I can't
do anything about 'em."