A compassionate Nature

Q. How many psychologists does it take to change a light globe? A. One. But the light globe has to want to change. 


I am attempting  to debunk the misinformation surrounding asylum seekers coming to Australia, in a conversation with an elderly friend of mine. She spends her days listening to right wing shock jocks blaring on the radio and reading status quo newspapers, so its no surprise she repeats this litany of lies fed to her by these purveyors of racist propaganda. It is Refugee Week and I have decided to give her a copy of the Refugee Council of Australia resource kit on asylum seekers.

I have no illusions though about the effects of this well researched, factual document's ability to dispel the years of brainwashing she has undergone. I don't see her having an epiphany and saying, "They lied!"  
There are however, repercussions accruing from questioning the veracity of those people you have always regarded as an 'authority'? Further erosion of long held beliefs is possible and doubt can creep in.  Inevitably a change in ideas can occur and sometimes a more compassionate spirit is fostered. This is not always so because people choose whether they want to embrace a challenge to their beliefs. Many people feel safer holding onto the 'us and them' mentality than risking an open trust in humanity. 
I want to share a story from Arnold Zable's beautifully moving book, The Fig Tree which illustrates choice. He poses the question, 'why is it that in one place people welcome strangers, while in others they stand by and condone the murder of neighbours?' He relates a story of filoxenia, 'the love of strangers', the sacred bond between guest and host, especially the welcoming of an outsider or passing seafarer. In 2001 a Turkish flagged ship carrying 714 Iraqui Kurds and Afghan refugees broke down in the Ionian Sea. The Greek coast guard towed it to the town of Zakynthos. On arrival, the people lined the waterfront and cheered. Food was freely distributed, pregnant women and babies were taken to hospitals or housed in hotels. Since that time a number of families on that ship have been provided with a home on the island. Arnold Zable contrasts this empathetic response to a similar situation in Australia at that time, which became known as the Tampa affair.  438 asylum seekers in a leaky boat heading for Australia and planning to claim refugee status were refused entry to Australia. This act of cruelty, not only contravened International Law but signified the beginning of a political and social campaign that is still continuing, to prevent asylum seekers from entering Australia. 

The Nature of Things.

There were once two monks filling their water vessels on the banks of a river. One noticed a scorpion slipped into the water and he reached in and fished it out. In doing so the scorpion stung him. He returned to filling his water container and once again noticed the scorpion had slipped into the river. He picked it up out of the water and set it on the bank and the scorpion stung him a second time. The monk's companion shook his head and scolded his friend. 
"Why do you persist in trying to save that scorpion when you can see that it's in the scorpion's nature to sting?"
The monk answered, "Because it is in my nature to save."

Sources:
The Fig Tree by Arnold Zable 
Text Publishing melbourne Australia, copyright 2002

Amnesty International Website with an essay on how Tampa became a turning point in Australian history.

Zen Stories to tell your neighbours

Artwork: Cross-Border by Roman W. Schatz
Cross-border2

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The Burden

The recent near death experiences of my two friends has counseled me to live in the Present. After all where else is there to live? In dreams? In memories? And yet for many people, anywhere else but the Present is preferable. I understand escape. Water is a conduit for my daydreams and I allow myself to enjoy them when immersed in a bath, shower, or even when washing up. Pulling out the plug ensures my immediate return to the Present. After nearly being run over by a bus, I make sure I daydream in a safe space. My burden is the Past. In the guise of Memory it stalks me like Poverty in the Eastern European folktale, plaguing me until I am desperate to be rid of its presence. In the folktale Poverty is eventually outwitted and leaves his host to afflict another poor soul, while the previously cursed man can now live the rest of his life free of want.  But I find that my battle to repel the incursions of Memory into my Present, is like that of Heracles and the Hydra; when he severs one head two more take its place. But like the man beset by Poverty, Heracles too manages to defeat the Hydra. So what weapons does an 'anxious worrier' choose to prevent being under siege from Memory? Rationality, Compassion and a Story. But I have no illusions about this battle. On occasions Sisyphus comes to mind, but I prefer to think of the following Zen story to assist me in letting go of the Past and living in the Present.

Carrying a Burden

There were once two monks, who upon reaching a river met a young woman who wanted to cross. However she was fearful that the current was too strong and would wash her away. The older monk then asked her to climb upon his back and he helped her across the river. When they reached the other side, the woman climbed off the back of the monk, thanked him and continued her journey. For some time after that, no conversation passed between the two monks, until finally the younger monk stopped the older one and spoke angrily to him.
'You know it is against our spiritual order to have physical contact with women, but you picked up that woman and carried her across the river!'
'Yes I did,' said the older monk, 'but I set her down on the river bank, whereas you are still carrying her.'

Photo by Roman W. Schatz
River

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The Strawberry Present

After spending a day in the company of my friend, who is still recovering from being knocked off her bicycle by a car, I was reminded of this story. Like so many traditional tales it offers an understanding of our lives and how best to live them.  For my friend the past had been traumatic, nearly tragic, and the future is still uncertain.  Each passing day offers both healing and pain. And yet we shared our short time together in contentment, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company and eating the good food prepared by her hand.  For a person who had been literally knocked completely off balance, she had resurfaced with a new balanced perspective on what was really important in her life. She would enjoy the present. 

The Strawberry
There was once a man who was set upon by a tiger. He ran as fast as he could until he came to a cliff. Below was a sheer drop to jagged rocks and another tiger stood at the bottom of the precipice. The man edged his way over the edge and clung onto a vine. Above him the tiger growled and gnashed its teeth, below him the rocks beckoned.

Two mice, one black and one white, began to gnaw at the vine. From the corner of his eye he saw a ripe, red strawberry, growing on the face of the cliff. It was just within his reach. Holding on to the vine with one hand, he reached out, plucked it and popped it into his mouth. It was the sweetest strawberry he had ever tasted.

A Zen Buddhist parable attributed to the Buddha

For most of us the tigers in our lives are easy to identify. What is difficult is to let go of the vine we cling to, reach out and experience the delights of the strawberry present. 

Into the light Photograph by Roman W. Schatz

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