Portland and London united in grief and love

A skateboard. Something that is simply fun even though I cannot find my balance. A bakery. Somewhere to go if you have a sweet tooth like me. A bridge. Something that connects and helps you to get from one side to another. Borough Market. I get hungry just thinking about all the delicious food in that area.

I never thought these things would bring tears to my eyes. Another week, another terrorist attack. Even for those of us whose communities have not experienced this kind of trauma and grief, it has become a tragic norm to read the stories (Manchester, Cairo, Kabul, Portland…), to watch the videos and to be deeply disturbed and heartbroken. Last week during the horrific attacks on London Bridge and around the Borough Market I was in Latvia and there was and still is so much sadness here. Yes, there have been too many of these kind of evils in Europe, Middle East, Asia, USA, Africa and elsewhere but this one felt even more personal and shocking.

Not only because so many Latvians have visited London and for many of us it is one of our favorite global cities that is so beautiful and friendly and fascinating. Of course, many also have friends and family who live and work in London now, including my own brother and his family. I know the streets they walk, the trains they take, the pubs they hand out in and the shops they favor.

The other tragedy that broke my heart was the horrible attack on the city commuter train in Portland, Oregon where on May 26 two guys got stabbed to death because they intervened on behalf of two young girls who were being insulted because of their ethnicity and religion. The attacker was yelling that “Muslims should die” and the girls should get out of “his country”. Ricky John Best and Taliesin Myrddin Namkai-Meche died from their injuries when they were stabbed in the neck and the attacker was arrested while he was still yelling hateful slurs and acting proud of his actions that “that’s what liberalism gets you.”

And this happened in another one of my favorite cities (I admit I am a city girl). If I lived in the US, I would want to live in Portland. Yes, it rains there a lot (so it does in London) but it makes everything so green and beautiful. The rivers and the valley is gorgeous and Portland has been called the “City of Roses” for a long time because its climate is ideal for growing roses.

There is so much in common between these two recent tragedies and the way these cities are now united in grief. On the side of hate and exclusion, there was extreme views, violence, attacks by knife and stabbing anyone who gets in the way or tries to defend the innocent. In both places the attackers were yelling that they are defending some kind of higher cause and exposing their views who deserves to live and who deserves to die. Who is in “my country” or “us” and who is “them”. In both cases believed they were “righteous”.

On the side of love and embrace, there were people who were living one of those simple and everyday moments of life. Whether it was coming home from work on a full train or enjoying a nice summer weekend and hanging out with friends, lovers and family. And then there were the “ordinary” heroes. In Portland it was the guys who tried to de-escalate the situation and stood up to protect the girls. In London, there was the Spanish guy, Ignacio Echeverria, who tried to help a woman, used the only things he had in his hand – his skateboard – and lost his own life. Or the brave Romanian chef, Florin Morariu, who hit one of the attackers with a crate and then helped 20 people to hide in his bakery.

There were many more heroes and most will remain unknown and to them we are so grateful. To the people who experienced these horrors and will have the memories for the rest of their lives, we are so sorry. And to those who lost their loved ones, words cannot express…

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Photos from internet

 

 

An inspiring day at the cemetery

Some may consider it morbid but Latvians like their cemeteries. Of course, not all Latvians and there is an ongoing debate why we pay so much attention to our grave sites and what does it say about our psyche and values and so forth. Even though things are changing, most people still choose to be buried in the ground (or their families choose it for them).

My mom passed away a few years ago and she is buried in one of the largest cemeteries in Riga. You can get lost there easily. It is so huge. When I was a child, I used to be scared of this place. In Latvia,  cemeteries are usually in the woods. It makes sense since we love our woods and find them the most peaceful and refreshing places. But to a child it felt like a dark and sad forest full of graves and dead people. I thought to myself, “This is where old people end up. Therefore I don’t want to become old.” Now somehow my mom being there makes it more hospitable 🙂 and she was no even that old.

Yesterday we had a big clean-up day in Latvia or call it our annual national “spring cleaning”. It usually takes place in April and people spend one Saturday raking leaves, collecting rubbish, cutting trees, cleaning parks and riversides and other places. I just read on the news that we had a record number of the sites and a record number of participants, in spite of wind and rain.

I joined a crew in the Great Cemetery of Riga which is actually a Memorial park. During the Soviet days the grave sites and chapels and the monuments were left to decay. There was too much of the old “capitalist” and “nationalist” past to remind us of how things used to be. I remember as a child walking by and looking at the chapels. I thought to myself that they must have been very rich people. But we were not supposed to think about rich people, right?

Yesterday I was reminded of things that are too important to forget. For example, the fact that Latvia has always been a multi-cultural place and our culture has been enriched by so many ethnic, religious, linguistic and other social groups. I read inscriptions in German, Russian, English and Latvian. There were pastors and statesmen, architects and actors, writers and educators, soldiers and city mayors…

There were burial sites of many famous and important people in our history who dreamed of Latvia as an independent nation when it was still a part of Russian Empire and who devoted their lives to see this dream come true. People who helped to develop the modern day Latvian language, who collected our folk songs and poems, who helped to build our beautiful country. I think of how their lives continue to impact us even today.

There is something profound about the tradition to write inscriptions on the tombstone which somehow describes the person or something this person would have said to us. Have you ever been asked what you would like to be written on your tombstone?

People had written things like “Treu bis dem Tod” (Faithful to the death)  but my favorite was “Auf wiedersehen” (See you again). Following the week of Easter, I thought it very appropriate someone inscribed this reminder that our lives matter so much more than just ‘here and now’. They matter now and for eternity…

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Spring at the Riga Great Cemetery (photo from internet)

Dear Latvia, I love you

This is my dear grandmother Margaret who is only 5 years younger than the Republic of Latvia. Born in 1923, she has seen and experienced many things, lost much but also gained much. She teaches me how not to take things for granted. She also teaches me about courage, sacrifice, creativity, gratitude and hope.

Today on Latvia’s Independence Day we will walk around Riga and celebrate together with the crowds of people. My grandmother loves people, but she can get lost in the crowd. She is so small and frail and half-deaf. I will take her to see the Freedom Monument which is a very special place for her and for many people. In the days and months and years when Latvia was re-gaining its independence, I knew that I could find her there, standing proudly with placards and posters. Demanding justice and freedom.

We are very close but we also have our differences. She has annoyed, upset and patronized me, but I have always felt that she has my back, that she is on my side. Even if she disagrees with me, she wants the best for me and she will give everything for it. She wants me to flourish and have a good life. Now I want to be on her side and by her side.

I am also on Latvia’s side and I believe it is on mine. Do we have our differences? For sure. Has my country annoyed and upset and patronized me? For sure. Have I rebelled and criticized and said that “I will never become like you”? For sure. Still, I love Latvia and I believe that Latvia loves me. Very imperfectly but nonetheless.

When I think about the commandment to “Love your neighbor as yourself”, I try to apply it on a national and international level as well. It is hard to love your (national and international) neighbors if you don’t love yourself. It is hard to respect your (national and international) neighbors if you don’t respect yourself. It is hard to cheer for your (national and international) neighbors if you don’t cheer for yourself. 

Also, I know that these are challenging days. There are trends in the world that question the idea of self-sacrifice, self-control, common good, justice, rule of law, vision beyond ourselves and truth. And more than ever we are reminded that we cannot take these values and understanding of good life for granted. Peace and justice and freedom is not something that just happens. It is very hard work and it takes long time but it can be destroyed and lost if we don’t cultivate and nourish  and guard it with all our will.

I think of my friends from Syria (who want peace in Syria) living in Latvia now. I think of my friends from China (who want democracy and freedom of religion in China) living in Latvia now. Or friends from Ukraine (who want justice and rule of law in Ukraine) living in Latvia now. If I start whining about Latvia too much, I think of them and most complaints stop. My mom used to tell me her life was not so bad and difficult as millions of people around the world who would love to trade places in a second (yes, my mom was amazing).

Latvia is not perfect but it is my country. Every person who lives here is not perfect but every one is my people. So, I will continue to learn what it means to love them in words and actions.

“Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;  it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” (Paul the Apostle)

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Someone in Latvia loves you very much (photos from personal archive)

Latvian:

Te es esmu kopā ar savu mīļo vecmammu Margietu, kura ir tikai 5 gadus jaunāka par Latvijas Republiku. Dzimusi 1923. gadā, viņa ir redzējusi un piedzīvojusi daudz, zaudējusi un arī ieguvusi daudz. No vecmammas es varu mācīties, ka neko nevar pieņemt kā pašsaprotamu. Mācos arī drosmi, radošumu, pateicību un cerību.

Šodien mēs iesim pastaigāties pa Rīgu un svinēsim Latvijas valsts 98. gadadienu kopā ar tūkstošiem cilvēku. Mana vecmamma ir ļoti sabiedriska, bet pēdējā laikā viņai ir grūti atrasties pūlī. Viņa ir tik maza, trausla un puskurla. Mēs aiziesim līdz Brīvības piemineklim, kas ir ļoti īpaša vieta. Dienās, mēnešos un gados, kad Latvija atguva savu neatkarību, zināju, ka varu atrast vecmammu pie Brīvības pieminekļa. Stāvam ar plakātiem un zīmējumiem.

Mēs esam ļoti tuvas, bet mums ir bijušas arī daudzas domstarpības. Viņa ir reizēm mani aizkaitinājusi, apbēdinājusi un centusies mācīt “kā dzīvot pareizāk”, bet es vienmēr esmu zinājusi, ka vecmamma ir manā pusē, ka viņa vēl man to labāko, un gatava upurēties savu bērnu un mazbērnu dēļ. Tagad es vēlos būt viņas pusē un viņai blakus.

Es esmu arī Latvijas pusē. Vai mums ir bijušas domstarpības? Protams. Vai Latvija ir mani aizkaitinājusi, apbēdinājusi un centusies mācīt “kā dzīvot pareizāk”? Protams. Vai es esmu dumpojusies un kritizējusi un teikusi, ka “iešu savu ceļu”? Protams. Taču es mīlu Latviju, un ticu ka Latvijā mīl mani. Nepilnīgi, bet tomēr.

Domājot par bausli “Mīli savu tuvāko kā sevi paši”, es cenšos to piemērot gan nacionālā, gan starptautiskā līmenī. Ir grūti mīlēt savus tuvākos un tālākos (gan nacionāli, gan starptautiski), ja tu nemīli pats sevi. Ir grūti  cienīt savus tuvākos un tālākos (gan nacionāli, gan starptautiski), ja tu necieni pats sevi. Ir grūti atbalstīt citus un priecāties par viņu panākumiem, ja tu nepriecājies par savējiem. Un otrādāk.

Skaidrs, ka ir ļoti daudz izaicinājumu. Šobrīd pasaulē ir spēcīgas tendencies, kas apšauba tādas lietas kā pašuzpurēšanās, paškontrole, kopīgais labums, taisnīgums, likumība, vīzija lielāka par tevi vai tavu valsti, cieņa pret visiem cilvēkiem un patiesība. Un mums tieši acīs tiek atgādināts, ka šīs vērtības un labas dzīves izpratne nav pašsaprotami. Miers, taisnīgums un brīvība neiekrīt klēpī paši no sevis. Tas ir grūts un apzināts darbs, un tas prasa ilgu laiku. Taču to var ātri iznīcināt un pazaudēt, ja mēs to nekopjam un nekultivējam, vai vairs negribam no visas sirds.

Domāju par saviem draugiem no Sīrijas, kuri dzīvo Latvijā (un ilgojas pēc miera Sīrijā). Domāju par draugiem no Ķīnas, kuri dzīvo Latvijā (un ilgojas pēc demokrātijas un reliģijas brīvības Ķīnā). Vai arī par cilvēkiem no Ukrainas, kuri dzīvo Latvijā (un ilgojas pēc taisnīguma un likumības Ukrainā). Kad sāku pārāk sūdzēties par Latviju, iedomājos par viņiem, un vairs negribas sūdzēties. Mana mamma parasti teica, ka viņai nemaz neesot tik grūti, salīdzinot ar miljoniem cilvēku visa pasaulē, kuri būtu gatavi mainīties vietām nedomājot.

Latvija nav perfekta valsts, bet tā ir manējā. Cilvēki, kuri dzīvo Latvijā, nav perfekti, bet tie ir manējie. Un es neesmu perfekta, bet esmu savējā. Tāpēc turpināšu mācīties, kā mīlēt šo valsti un šos cilvēkus.

“Mīlestība ir lēnprātīga, mīlestība ir laipna, tā neskauž, mīlestība nelielās, tā nav uzpūtīga. Tā neizturas piedauzīgi, tā nemeklē savu labumu, tā neskaistas, tā nepiemin ļaunu. Tā nepriecājas par netaisnību, bet priecājas par patiesību. Tā apklāj visu, tā tic visu, tā cer visu, tā panes visu.” (Sv. Pāvils)

 

 


 

I am so sorry, Aleppo

This is about Syria and it is not about Syria; this is about politics and it is not about politics; this is about global challenges and it is not about global challenges; this is about the world’s reaction but it is not about the world.

This is about my own feelings in regards to what is going on in Aleppo. I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel helpless, overwhelmed, disillusioned… and many more things.

Last week I wrote to a friend who has studied political science and understands a lot about the UN.. I knew that he would not be able to give me simple answers but I was desperate to ask. Any ideas on how to end this tragedy and madness? So much has been said, but what else can be done?

The answer was as expected: “You have many good questions! I think the people who can answer those questions should step forward immediately! Unfortunately, it’s not so easy.” His last comment was: “The only solution I can see is for more cooperation at the international level and for a coalition of willing and able countries to intervene in some way to stop the atrocities taking place in Syria right now, but it is hard to imagine how that practically could be realized.”

We see the difficulties and current challenges in the international framework. I was watching an interview with Latvia’s ambassador to NATO, Indulis Bērziņš, and he kept repeating that anyone who could come up with a solution for the war in Syria would be awarded Nobel Peace Prize immediately.

So, here we are. I could probably listen to endless interviews, read many articles, watch TV programs around the world and get the same message. “Since the beginning of the offensive by the regime and its allies, notably Russia, the intensity and scale of the aerial bombardment of eastern Aleppo is clearly disproportionate,” an official EU statement said. … The deliberate targeting of hospitals, medical personnel, schools and essential infrastructure, as well as the use of barrel bombs, cluster bombs and chemical weapons, constitute a catastrophic escalation of the conflict … and may amount to war crimes.”

Meanwhile the people are dying and the eastern part of Aleppo is evaporating in front of the world’s eyes.

I don’t have any easy answers either. I know that aid agencies , volunteers (like Partners Relief & Development) and many many people in Syria and from other parts of the world are doing everything they can to help. I know that many of the wonderful, heroic, sacrificial stories don’t get reported. I know that the real situation is much different than our news can show. I have been on “the other side” of the TV screen (not in Aleppo though).

What I have are friends from Syria who live in safety and peace in Riga, Latvia but who still have family back in Aleppo. Every time I see them I think of their families, their former home and beloved city. What if this was Riga! Boom, there goes Teika! Boom, there goes Jugla… and the people who lived there.

Maybe this post will get some responses with your thoughts. Of course, I believe in prayer but I also believe in resistance to injustice. And I have a strong sense that we, the global neighbors, are failing Syria.

Today I simply want to say… I am so sorry, Aleppo

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Friends in Riga learning more about Syria (photos from personal archive)

Latvian:

Rakstu par Sīriju, bet runa nav par Sīriju. Rakstu par politiku, bet runa nav par politiku. Rakstu par globālajiem izaicinājumiem, bet runa nav par tiem. Rakstu par pasaules reakciju, bet runa nav par pasauli.

Runa ir par manām sajūtām, domājot par to, kas notiek Alepo. Man sāp sirds. Man ir skumji. Man ir dusmas. Man ir bezspēcības sajūta. Man nav ilūziju, un man trūkst vārdu.

Pagājšnedēļ es aizrakstīju kādam labam draugam ārzemēs, kurš ir jauns politiķis, un diezgan labi pazīst Apvienoto Nāciju Organizāciju. Es zināju, ka viņš nespēs man dot nekādas vieglas vai skaidras atbildes, bet vienkārši gribējās kādam jautāt. Vai ir kādas idejas, kā šo ārprātu tur izbeigt? Tik daudz jau ir teikts, bet ko var darīt?

Atbilde bija tāda, kādu biju gaidījusi. “Tev, Inet, ir daudz labu jautājumu. Es domāju, ka tiem cilvēkiem, kuri spēj tos atbildēt, ir jāpiesakās nekavējoties. Diemžēl nav tik vienkārši.” Beigās viņš vēl piebilda: “Vienīgais veids, ko es redzu, ir lielāka sadarbība starptautiskā līmenī, un to valstu koalīcija, kuras spēj un tiešām grib izbeigt šīs briesmu lietas, kas patlaban notiek Sīrijā. Taču ir grūti iedomāties, kā tas varētu īstenoties praktiski.”

Mēs jau redzam, kā tas praktiski neīstenojas. Skatījos LTV interviju ar Induli Bērziņu, kurš NATO pārstāv Latviju, un viņš vismaz divas reizes atkārtoja to pašu. Sakot, ja kādam rastos risinājums Sīrijas kara izbeigšanai, tam vajadzētu tūlīt pat piešķirt Nobela Miera prēmiju.

Te nu mēs esam. 17. oktobrī bija oficiāls Eiropas Savienības paziņojums, ka “ES pauž sašutumu par situāciju Sīrijā, kas turpina pasliktināties. Pieaugošā vardarbība Alepo rada nepieredzētas un nepieņemamas ciešanas tūkstošiem tās iedzīvotāju. Kopš režīms un tā sabiedrotie, jo īpaši Krievija, ir sākuši ofensīvu, Alepo austrumu daļas bombardēšanas no gaisa intensitāte un mērogs ir acīmredzami nesamērīgs, un tīši uzbrukumi slimnīcām, medicīniskajam personālam, skolām un ļoti svarīgai infrastruktūrai, kā arī tvertņveida bumbu, kasešu bumbu un ķīmisko ieroču izmantošana katastrofāli saasina konfliktu, un tie ir radījuši vēl plašāka mēroga civiliedzīvotāju upurus, tostarp starp sievietēm un bērniem, un tos var pielīdzināt kara noziegumiem.

Galvenā atbildība par Sīrijas iedzīvotāju aizsardzību ir Sīrijas režīmam. Tāpēc ES stingri nosoda režīma un tā sabiedroto pārmērīgos un nesamērīgos uzbrukumus. … ES pauž nožēlu par Krievijas 8. oktobrī pausto veto ANO Drošības padomes rezolūcijai, kuras līdzautori ir visas ES dalībvalstis un kuras mērķis ir atjaunot karadarbības pārtraukšanu un ļaut humānās palīdzības sniedzējiem piekļūt Alepo.”

Cilvēki turpina mirt, un Alepo austrumu daļa pārvēršas pilnīgos pelnos.

Man arī nav atbildes. Es zinu, ka daudzi – gan organizācijas, gan brīvprātīgie, gan paši Sīrijas cilvēki – dara visu, lai palīdzētu. Zinu, ka līdz mums nenonāk lielākā daļa šo stāstu par brīnišķīgajiem, drosmīgajiem un pašaizliedzīgajiem.

Man ir tikai draugi Rīgā, kuri tagad dzīvo mierā un drošībā, bet viņu radinieki ir joprojām Alepo. Katru reizi, kad tiekamies, es domāju par viņu tuviniekiem un agrāk tik skaisto pilsētu. Ja tas viss tagad notiktu Rīgā!? Bumbas, un nav vairs Teikas. Bumbas, un nav vairs Juglas… un tās cilvēku.

Varbūt, ka manas sajūtas izsauks kādu reakciju vai pārdomas arī no jūsu puses. Protams, es ticu lūgšanu spēkam, un cerība arī man nav zudusi, bet es ticu, ka ir jāpretojas netaisnībai. Un man liekas, ka mēs, globālie kaimiņi, esam pievīluši Sīrijas cilvēkus.

Šodien es gribu vienkārši pateikt to, ko latviešu valodā nevar pateikt ar vienu vārdu, kā to var angļu valodā… I am so sorry, Aleppo. Man ir tik ļoti žēl, Alepo, ka šī netaisnība turpinās.

 

 

Lest we forget…

“Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it.” (Edmund Burke)

Beautiful October day and I am enjoying my morning coffee. Checking the news, Facebook, e-mails… thinking about something fun to do later in the day.

I was planning to write my weekly blog about something fun, too. I thought to myself – enough of these serious topics and challenges and problems and wars and suffering. Let us look at the blue sky, at the changing colours, at the birds and flowers and beautiful people! I know some amazing people who inspire, encourage and teach me the better ways. Or I could write about the incredible historic peace deal just made in Colombia which some years ago seemed impossible.

I cannot even turn on the TV because the destruction in Syria upsets too much. What is the point to know and to see how many people were killed today and how many homes were destroyed if I cannot stop those planes, drones, bombs and guns from my comfortable living room? Years later people will make movies and documentaries and write history books but I am part of the generation that made this history. What kind of history am I making? What can I change or impact or avert?

So, you see… I cannot get away from this serious stuff. What sparked it today was reading about the 75th commemoration of Babi Yar massacre. Babi Yar is a ravine in the Ukrainian capital Kiev and a site of massacres carried out by German forces and local collaborators. The most notorious and the best documented of these massacres took place from 29–30 September 1941, wherein 33,771 Jews were killed.

The fall is the time of the year when many of these WWII massacres took place in Central and Eastern Europe. I have visited some of these sites in Latvia. September, October, November, December… you could go from one commemoration to another. Too many to count and too many to visit.

There are many things these killing places have in common. Like the fact that the sites are either in the city or right on the outskirts. Usually in a wooded area or by the sea or in some ravine. The execution squads were looking at the landscape and choosing areas with natural ditches. How practical! Less digging and something to obstruct the view.

We, Latvians, love our woods but I look at these old trees in Biķernieki forest in Rīga or the dunes of Sķēde in Liepāja and I grieve even for them. Now I look with very different eyes. There was a time when I was not interested because of bad memories from my childhood. Growing up in the USSR, we had to participate in so many annual commemorations of WWII and hear so much propaganda that you became immune to it. Also, the facts of history and how they might apply to me today became meaningless because they were manipulated by those in power.

Therefore it is hard for some to understand why are we still so “obsessed” with WWII history. Time to move on, isn’t it? Time to look to future and not to the past? I agree with both but I also think that it is time to properly grieve for things that we were not allowed to know or to grieve over.

I look at the countless mass graves in Biķernieki forest (the headline photo… I really never knew how massive this site was) and I think to myself – these graves are no different from the ones on Rwanda or Bosnia or Iraq or other places. And how many new graves are dug today in some place that flashes across my TV screen?

“Lest we forget” also means “we should remember”…

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The dunes of Šķēde, Liepāja (photos form personal archive)

Shape of my heart

September 21 is the International Day of Peace. So, what? The world does not seem very peaceful; many relationships strained or broken; armed conflicts and rumors of wars in too many places; resources and environment being fought over; refugees in millions; fundamentalists clashing with libertarians; anxiety and fear in the headlines; elections becoming so divisive for societies… should I go on?

“Peace” has become such a cheap word. “Peace” sign can be such a cliche. “Peace agreements” look like a joke. “Peace building” often feels impossible and futile. It reminds me of the ancient prophet Jeremiah who said, “They offer superficial treatments for my people’s mortal wound. They give assurances of peace when there is no peace.

There comes a moment when you become still and start to think  – where does peace start? It seems that we are good at “ceasefires” but where is the source of true peace? Where does the will and the choice and the ability to be peaceful come from?

Few years ago in a group of friends we wrote a song, “Where does peace start? With God enlarging my heart!” I want to quote one of my favorite authors on spirituality and relationships, Henri J.M. Nouwen. He wrote that “We tend to run around trying to solve the problems of our world while anxiously avoiding confrontation with the reality wherein our problems find their deepest roots: our own selves. … To build a better world, the beginnings of that world must be visible in daily life. … We cannot speak about ways to bring about peace and freedom if we cannot draw from our own experiences of peace and freedom here and now.” (“Creative Ministry”)

I realized this early in own my journey. One friend from Thailand-Burma border sent me an-mail some years ago. “I like this subject of peace very much but I feel that a trainer of the course should have a clear mind. I am good at solving other one’s conflict (I think) but I myself am violent.” His honesty made me look at my own heart and my daily interactions. There are many stories to tell of what I have experienced.

We would like to think of ourselves as open-minded, friendly, inclusive, welcoming, accepting, non-judgmental, reaching out, respectful, humble but these ideas get tested daily and how often we fail the test. Like H. Nouwen said, it is the “here and now “that matters the most.

I realize that I started a subject that is too deep and too wide for this blog but I wanted to remind myself that peace starts with me. Peace with God, with myself, with others and with the created order. How to have this peace in all these relationships? Well, that’s the real art!

And just because it rhymes and I love this song by British artist Sting:

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heart

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Peaceful place in Latvia (photos from personal archive)

Latvian:

21. septembrī tika atzīmēta Pasaules jeb Starptautiskā miera diena. Nu, un kas par to? Pasaule galīgi neliekas mierīga; visāda veida attiecības sabojātas un salauztas; bruņoti konflikti un kari daudzviet; cīņa par resursiem un strīdi par vides aizsardzību; miljoniem bēgļu; sadursme starp fundametālistiem un libertiāņiem; bailes un satraukums ziņu virsrakstos; vēlēšanas, kas sašķel nācijas… vai vēl turpināt?

“Miers” daudziem ir kļuvis tukšs vārds. “Miera simboli” kļuvuši par klišejām. “Miera sarunas” bieži vien izrādās nenopietnas. “Miera celšana” sāk likties neiespējama un veltīga. Man prātā nāk senā pravieša Jeremijas vārdi: “Tie grib pavirši dziedināt Manas tautas meitas dziļo brūci un saka: miers, miers! – kur taču miera nav.”

Un pienāk brīdis, kad tu apstājies un sāc domāt – no kurienes nāk miers? Mums tik labi padodas “pamieri”, bet kas ir īsta un paliekoša miera avots? Kur rodas griba, vēlēšanās un spēja būt mieru mīlošam un mieru nesošam?

Pirms dažiem gadiem mēs kopā ar draugiem uzrakstījām dziesmu, kuras galvenais jautājums bija, kur sākas miers? Un mēs atbildējām, ka “manā sirdī, kuru maina Dievs.” Gribu citēt vienu no saviem mīļākajiem rakstniekiem un teologiem. Henrijs Nouvens rakstīja, ka “Mēs skrienam apkārt, mēģinot atrisināt pasaules problēmas, bet tajā pašā laikā drudžaini cenšamies izvairīties no konfrontācijas ar mūsu problēmu visdziļāko sakni: sevi pašiem. … Lai veidotu labāku pasauli, šīs pasaules pamatiem ir jābūt mūsu ikdienas dzīvē. … Mēs nevaram runāt par mieru un brīvību, ja mēs nevaram smelties šo mieru un brīvību no savas pieredzes šeit un tagad.” (no grāmatas “Radoša kalpošana”)

Šī vienkāršā patiesība man atklājās pamazām. Pirms dažiem gadiem kāds draugs no Taizemes – Birmas pierobežas atsūtīja e-pastu. “Man ļoti patīk miera tēma, bet man liekas, ka šīs tēmas pasniedzējam jābūt ar skaidru prātu. Man pašam izdodas risināt citu cilvēku konfliktus (vismaz tā šķiet), bet pats esmu diezgan vardarbīgs.” Viņa atklātība lika man padomāt pašai par sevi, ielūkoties savās sirdī un savās ikdienas lietās. Te būtu daudz ko stāstīt par pieredzēto.

Mums gribētos domāt, ka esam ļoti atvērti, ar plašu domāšanu, iekļaujoši, laipni, viesmīlīgi, nenosodoši, cieņpilni, pazemīgi, utt, bet šie pieņēmumi tiek pārbaudīti katru dienu, un tik bieži mēs neizturam šos pārbaudījumus. Kā jau Henrijs Nouvens teica, vissvarīgākā ir mana pieredze “šeit un tagad”.

Apzinos, ka esmu pieskārusies tēmai, kas ir pārāk dziļa un pārāk plaša šim blogam, bet gribējās atgādināt pašai sev, ka miers sākas ar mani. Miers ar Dievu, miers ar sevi, miers ar citiem un miers ar pārējo radīto pasauli. Kā šo mieru iegūt un paturēt? Tas jau ir tas lielais jautājums un dzīves māksla!

Un vienkārši tāpēc, ka man patīk Stinga mūzika, viens neliels citāts no dziesmas “Manas sirds veidols”

Es zinu, ka pīķi ir kareivja iesmi
Es zinu, ka kreici ir ieroči karam
Es zinu, ka kāravi apmaksā to
Bet manas sirds veidols tas nav

The age of information diarrhea

I took this photo in Berlin while sightseeing around Brandenburg Gate. It was one of those surreal moments when you have to get out your camera to prove to yourself that this is real. Most of us notice it and most of us do it. I knew that it would be a good photo for one of my blogs.

This autumn I am taking some classes at Latvia University and I love it. Yes, there is some homework that tortures my brain cells and gives anxiety but the joy of learning is greater and more lasting. Also, it is a university within the university because of my classmates. Every one of us is a small universe with life experiences, thoughts, beliefs, dreams, friends, families, talents…

For the title of this blog entry I borrowed the words of one of my new peers. During a discussion he said: “We live in an age with chronic diarrhea of information.” I have a good imagination and his words make a good sense. We take in so much information daily without processing. Since it is available and free, just take it. Whether it is worthwhile or simply junk.

What if it cost me more? If I have to buy a magazine or newspaper, I am very picky. I want to get my money’s worth. I want to read something that will enrich my mind and my life. I will pick up “Time” or “Newsweek” or “The Economist”… But if I am standing in the checkout line at the shopping mall or killing a few minutes at the airport, I will browse through some women’s magazines or tabloids. (It sounds better to say tabloids then gossip and sensational news, right?)

Secondly we don’t give enough time for reflection. (Here is that magic word – time. I said  the free information does not cost me anything but actually it does. It costs my time.) I remember my mom used to eat and chew very slowly. She firmly believed that it was healthier.It used to drive me crazy but I did think that she was right. Plus eating together had its many other wonderful benefits.

My own brain capacity is so limited. I find that even lots of the good information that I want to retain and digest and reflect on, disappears quickly. I think part of the problem is these horrible habits of taking in too much, too fast and too superficially.

There are many bad side-effects. Especially social. As if there is this invisible force that effects us in invisible ways. For example, the growing problem of polarization. People become more divided in their views and less able to dialogue and to have a polite and respectful debate with good listening skills. When I go on Facebook or other social media, it does the thinking for me. It “chooses” who my best friends are, which kind of news I “want” to read, what I want to buy, etc. It makes my life easier by grouping me with “like-minded” people.

Thanks for taking the few minutes of your time to read. A few more to reflect?

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The art of socializing (photos from personal archive)

Latvian:

Šis ir ar manu fotoaparātu piefiksēts dzīves moments netālu no Brandenburgas vārtiem Berlīnē. Vienkārši acīm neticējās, ka tā mēs tiešām tagad dzīvojam. Lielākā daļa to ievērojam, un lielākā daļa to darām. Zināju, ka būs kaut kad jāuzraksta.

Šoruden man ir iespēja mācīties Latvijas Universitātē, un man patīk. Protams, ir mājas darbi un lietas, kas mocīs smadzenes un šad tad bojās nervus, bet mācīšanās process kā tāds ir izbaudāms. Turklāt ir viens liels bonuss – mani kursabiedri. Katrs pats ir maza universitāte ar savu dzīves pieredzi, domām, ticību, sapņiem, draugiem, ģimeni, spējām…

Pārdomām es virsrakstā izmantoju viena sava kursabiedra teikto. Nesenā diskusijā viņš izteicās, ka “mēs dzīvojam laikā, kur ir hroniska informācijas caureja.” Iztēle man darbojas labi, un šī metafora tiešām liekas precīza. Mēs uzņemam tik daudz informācijas, bet pavisam maz vai nemaz to nesagremojam un nepārstrādājam. Šī informācija ir tepat ar pirkstu galiem sasniedzama, turklāt par brīvu, un tāpēc jāņem. Vienalga, vai tā ir derīga, vai mēsls.

Kā būtu, ja man par to būtu vairāk jāmaksā? Pērkot žurnālu vai avīzi, esmu ļoti izvēlīga. Gribu, lai mana nauda būtu ieguldīta vērtīgā informācijā. Piemēram, žurnālos “The Economist”, “Time” vai “Rīgas Laiks”… Bet, stāvot veikala rindā pie kases vai nositot kādas minūtes lidostā, pasķirstu arī dzelteno presi (labāk skan “prese”, vai ne? nevis aprunāšanas, tenku un sensāciju stāsti)

Otra problēma ir tāda, ka mēs neveltam pietiekamu laiku pārdomām. (Te ir tas astlēgas vārds – laiks! Varbūt informācijas uzņemšana man nemaksā naudu, bet laiku gan.) Atceros, kā mana mamma mēdza ēst ļoti lēni un visu kārtīgi sakošļāt. Viņa teica, ka tā ir veselīgāk. Mani tas tracināja, bet iekšēji ticēju, ka viņai ir taisnība. Turklāt ēst kopā ar draugiem vai ģimeni un darīt to nesteidzīgi ir pats par sevi viens liels ieguvums.

Manas smadzenes ir gan pamatīgi piebāztas, gan ierobežotas. Pat to labo informāciju, ko vēlos paturēt, pārdomāt un izmantot, grūti nepazaudēt. Varbūt te arī daļēji ir vainīga šī informācijas caureja? Un sliktais ieradums uzņemt par daudz, par ātru un par seklu.

Ir daudz citu blakusparādību. It sevišķi mūsu attiecībās ar apkārtējiem. Tāda sajūta, it kā neredzams spēks darbotos mums neredzamā veidā, bet ar lielu ietekmi. Viens piemērs –  pieaugošā polarizācijas problēma. Cilvēki arvien vairāk sašķeļas savos uzskatos (kas pats par sevi vēl nav problēma), un arvien mazāk spēj sarunāties un sadzīvot ar citādi domājošiem. Arvien sliktāk prot debatēt un nemāk klausīties. Mēs izmantojam Facebook un citus soctīklus, bet tie sāk domāt mūsu vietā. Caur saviem algoritmiem, utt. Tie izvēlas, kuri ir mani “labākie” draugi, kuras ziņas es “vēlos” lasīt, kādas reklāmas man “vajag”, utt. Tas “atvieglo” manu dzīvi, jo palīdz sazināties ar “līdzīgi domājošiem”.

Paldies par tām dažām minūtēm, ko veltīji lasīšanai. Varbūt vari veltīt vēl kādas, lai pārdomātu?