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Sunday, December 18, 2016

When pain stays

As we approach the holiday season, there are gestures of kindness that seem to be missing at other times of the year. People gather as families for celebrations; church goers congregate for worship; stores and malls dress up while homes are often adorned with lights sparkling in the night. For many, holidays are times of joy, reconnection and times of remembrance about life priorities. Music, both seasonal and religious, can be heard in most public places.




The season is also one of loneliness and despair for millions of people carrying the burdens of pain and traumas experienced along their journey. A special dinner will be at a shelter if such a dinner is to be had. It will often be served by those who assuage their need to be seen as "giving" and who appear with children to volunteer. This is not to diminish the value of their time. To the contrary, for sure. For those receiving, they will know that tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow (to borrow a phrase from Shakespeare) will be the continuance of their pain. 

Yet, we need not single out those struggling in less fortunate situations - many with means hide from heir traumas during holiday celebrations putting on faces and costumes of deceit. Resources can aid their personal process - services that less fortunate struggle to find.

As a society, we have entered an intersection we have been at many times, although this time it feels rather acute. Politicians sowing seeds of hatred, division and dominance; refugees flooding the world at levels not seen for decades; economic uncertainty arising from Brexit and Trump; disempowered escalating their voices through ballot boxes and protests. 

For the weakest in our societies, the mere act of survival demands so much energy that worry about public policy and international relations is far beyond their realities. As Syria is showing us, they can also be the most affected. 

Here in Canada, as we have been thinking of the results of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Calls to Action, we have heard much discourse and little change. Intergenerational trauma in Indigenous Canadians remains largely unaddressed by society at large. Large numbers of Canadians are not even really aware of the depth of individual and collective trauma still sits in Indigenous peoples from the Colonization that occurred across this land. We can never know the depth of pain in others but we can be open to its truth and presence - and we can listen to the story which must be told.

In meditation, this is an urgent time to reflect upon peace, change and our personal role in society. We may be one drop in the ocean. Giving up, detaching or believing that change is not possible is really not an option. To do so is to increasingly hand power to those lacking in foresight for a better word or see the future in greed. Meditation connects to personal accountability for what we place into the world. 



Sarah

The pinnacle of copulation achieved
He pulled away, still dripping
Grabbed the edge of the bed
Avoiding a drunken fall

She lay still absent of pleasure
Her expression fixed with agony
As though stuck in the moment 
Now feeling unwanted sobriety

Such was the moment of conception
Unplanned, unwanted
By two souls whose connection was never sought
never again to meet

Nine months and five days passed
Sarah arrived greeted by maternal misery
A burden carried through
Alcoholic regret

No dreams of future
No plans for arrival 
A life of uncertain place
But Sarah's life still so

Conceived in pain
Born in loss
Nurtured in despair
Sarah learned to exist

So soon she entered her mother's path
A pothole filled gravel road without destination
Upon which travel was lonely and meaningless
Offering but a few hopeless way stations

Destiny offered no hope
So why this life, why this Sarah?
A flawed gift of the Creator
Could surely not be the answer

Regardless 
She carries within her
The hard truth of the moment
When entry to this world was demanded

What voice, what power
Could so insist that she must come
Upon this planet 
From a moment so loveless

© Peter Choate, 2016


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