Single Mom in Korea

My principal told me I might be one of very few American single moms who chose to move overseas to teach English. Though it is challenging, it's no greater than what a single mom struggling in America has to experience. In the US, I was struggling to wait through the recession.  While job searching, I was working two part-time jobs, scrapping by on waitress tips, food stamps, medicaid and public housing. My job here provides enough for me to live while here, and pay off debts back home. Though I'm working harder, I can support myself. That said, I believe coming to Korea was a wise decision.

Because God's been so good to me, I want to help any other single moms who might be thinking of making the same move. Already, I have received a number of inquiries from moms who want to know the practical side of the romanticized adventure of going global. It is a wonderful journey to be sure, but I have to say my situation is so good because of God. It's been perfect, because He is perfect. Lots of things could have gone wrong and didn't; I know He moved stumbling blocks out of the way to ensure a smooth transition. Still, though it has been an awesome experience, it has not been easy.

Since everything is new, every day is an unexpected adventure, discovering what new store is around the corner, tasting new foods, riding the bus, the subway. Korea is very kid friendly - they adore kids here - and it is very safe. I don't feel afraid to walk home when it's dark.

I have been particularly blessed with my placement. It is a wonderful school (private, Christian,) and the staff and principal have gone out of their way to consider our needs. They found housing within three-minutes walking distance from the school. They gave me a considerable tuition discount for my daughter so she can attend the same school where I teach. I am right down the hall from her and eat with her at lunch. This is especially good when it comes time to comforting her if something happened that morning. I can also observe how she is being treated by other students, whether she is being accepted or marginalized, and see how she is accepting Korean customs. If I notice something, I can address it immediately or wait to discuss at home. In my case, my daughter is African-American which is somewhat of an anomaly here. The children have yet to fully integrate her into their group. This is difficult to witness as a mother, but it would be even more isolating for her if she did not have me to turn to for comfort and affirmation. The caring staff and teachers are also making a concerted effort to reach out and educate the Korean children, using this as a teachable moment to learn about loving our neighbors, and acting as brothers and sisters in Christ. I think the single parent should also take into account that you are even more single here. If you are willing to trust your child to the care of someone else, you might steal away for a mommy break. I have yet to do that, as it takes time for me to build trust. Accordingly, I have had no time to myself, which is much different from home. At home, I could count on at least one window of opportunity every day to spend alone. I could get some shopping done, run to the bank, or just take an uninterrupted break to breathe for a moment. This hasn't happened, and I still haven't worked this one out. Parents should keep this in mind. One possible solution is to connect with Korean parents of children around the same age as your child. This will be helpful support for you, and give your child someone else to play with besides you! Finding foreign moms has been somewhat difficult for me because of my location. Most foreigners live in Seoul which is an hour bus and train ride away.

Expect your child to need some extra leniency for sudden changes in behavior - mood swings, (clingy one minute, and "I can do it by myself" the next minute,) irritability, defiance, or acting out. You know your child, and if s/he does something out of character, be patient - she's trying to adjust to a major life change just like you. I think it's more of a challenge for the child because she didn't choose to come, the decision what forced onto her. Be prepared to console frequently, explain everything - even while you are still learning yourself. Much will depend on the age of your child. My daughter is five, so there was more behavior management and a lot more patience required. Find some things that remind you both of home, a way you can connect to what is familiar and certain. For us, it was church and prayer. I also made sure she brought her favorite toys. I downloaded skype before I left so we could talk to family. We also had a conversation about "what was the same" since our arrival: "Mommy still works, you still go to school. We still eat toast for breakfast. We still read stories at night. We still watch Clifford the Big Red dog." This list will be a good reference when your child starts to feel like the change is too overwhelming. When the child starts to miss family back home, don't try to brush the feelings aside. Acknowledge the sadness, let her cry. Hold her and admit that "this is the hardest part." Prepare them before arriving that missing family is going to be biggest challenge to overcome, especially if your child is particularly close to father/siblings/grandparents. The child may go through the anger phase; s/he might be angry with you for bringing her here and taking her away from her family. If this happens, try to focus on the good that you both are experiencing, and then work at creating more good memories so you can bring them up when s/he has another "I miss my daddy" moment. Expect thes"I miss..." moments to come regularly for as long as you are here. It's a great challenge, and you have to be a certain type of person to manage it: patient, flexible, understanding, organized, possess nerves of steel and an open, compassionate heart. Get plenty of rest, take your vitamins (especially C and zinc). A great sense of humor helps too! I have documented some of our holiday activities on video, plus daily living experiences such as a quest to the grocery store, and a tour of our apartment (the standard size for first year teachers!) If you have more questions, feel free to comment or send me an e-mail.

The Christmas Letter, 2009

It's usually about this time when I start thinking about whether or not to send Christmas cards. This year, I posed a question on Facebook to friends and family, inquiring whether or not these holiday greetings are obsolete. With today's technology we can e-mail greetings, which is much more cost effective and saves trees. What about the Christmas letter? I remember growing up they would start rolling in by now, some as long as two single space pages, recounting the year's activities. There was the annual letter from an uncle and aunt, the RV champs from California. Their yearly life summary would be read Christmas Day with dramatic intonation and gestures to liven up a very droll report. Then there was the family friend, a Vietnam Vet who wrote the parody of the Christmas letter. As the years went on, his letters seemed to get more twisted and bizarre, always detailing extreme scenarios and vivid descriptions of personal events one never, ever wanted to know. The tradition, however varied, set the standard by which I would come to write my own.

As a traveling gypsy (now retired,) my family and friends grew to expect that I would invariably report at least one of three events every year: a new address, a new job, and at least one major drama. I doubt anyone has ever kept the complete assortment of these annual accounts, but the collection would be interesting to review, from a historical perspective, of course. Study would show a questionable pattern of living, one that was uncertain, unstable, unpredictable. If anything, these letters revealed that I was most surely coming undone. I imagine most of the recipients of these letters exhaled a deep sigh of concern or consternation upon reading my sordid tales, "Poor child. When will she ever settle down and normalize?" I am happy to report that in September of 2008 I completely unraveled, and have since begun the process of sowing a new pattern, one of deliverance, peace, and glorious moments of pure joy!

I will avoid detailing "my time away" as I've come to call it, but I will say this much: last September I had a transformational experience that shifted my consciousness so dramatically, those who knew me before this time would hardly recognize the new me were we to have an in- depth discussion on just about any subject. I view every aspect of living with different eyes, especially those two topics nobody ever wants to talk about over dinner: politics and religion. Before, I was a radically liberal, pro-choice, pro-whatever works for you, progressive democrat, universally circular on all matters traditionally unilateral, and would twirl and spin in the gray area just for the sake of argument. This consciousness was reflected in my lifestyle, and was as confusing and ambiguous as the former sentence. Now, I see things more clearly, fresh, new. I strip everything down to it's spiritual essence, to the fundamental and, as some may contend, narrow, simple truth. I expect I will lose friends because of this. It is written that those who follow this path with lose their life. Mothers will turn from their daughters, brother will be set against brother, husband against wife. I do not look forward to that time, if it should come, but I would gladly exchange my old life for what I have only begun to experience in this first year of my renewing.

With that said, I want to assure my family and friends, especially those who've know me since childhood that some things haven't changed: my sense of humor, my periodic urges to commit random acts of senseless spontaneity, my emotional sensitivity and deep compassion for those who are suffering. Even better, what was once lost, broken, corrupted, perverted, or hardened from life's trials, has returned. Hope. Great expectations. Belief in promises. I smile more, sometimes for so long my cheeks hurt (the muscles are unfamiliar with such strain, but they are stretching and strengthening with continued exercise.) I watch less drama, and seek out comedies, and yes, even musicals, ("The hills are alive/with the sound of music/aah-aaaaaaa-aah. That's how I feel!) Those desires from childhood that were rich and wonderful have come back to me. I wanna help people. I want to roll down hills and climb trees, and bake cookies. And I'm singing again, even making up my own songs! Though I'd choose the blues song "Good Morning Heartache" by Billie Holiday on karaoke night, I would do so only because I'm still an alto and I know all the words by heart.

Of course, having a four-year-old to play with makes all this change as accommodating as free shipping on Amazon (my shopping habits haven't changed either, I still don't like the mall, though I'll admit, I went twice in the last month and I didn't feel like I was going to hurt anybody.) This year she requested a guitar, a scooter, and a vacuum cleaner (? - yeh, I thought the same thing; my old women's liberation spirit reared her head on that last one.) I found two out of three on Amazon. If anyone knows how to tune a guitar, I'd appreciate a quick lesson. I also got her a full cleaning set, all pink. It comes with a vacuum, duster, broom & dustpan with the cart to hold everything. (It was less than $20, what can I say? At least, I know she's cultivating a clean spirit!) The big ticket item was a digital camera, as bulky as the first cellular phones ever made, one that can be dropped repeatedly without damage. This is in response to her incessant pleading at every photographic moment, "I wanna do it! Please mama, I'll be very careful." She looks at me with her academy award-winning puppy-dog eyes, and reaches for my antique 35 millimeter camera. Yeh, like that's ever gonna happen. "No, it's my camera! Mine!" (That childhood possessiveness has returned as well.) I am excited to give Edojah his gift; it's a classic. He's reading well, so I got him the choose-your-own adventure series that started my childhood love for reading. His birthday falls a few days after Christmas; I'm hoping to win on eBay his birthday gift; another classic, (I'm battling bids for battleship - one of the top three board games of all time, just after monopoly and scrabble.)

This year has been full of all the moments humans come to appreciate, especially during difficult times. Yes, 2009 has been trying, but the trials have exercised my strength and faith, and exorcised the demons of fear and doubt. The slide show below tells our story for the year. We have smiled from cheek to cheek, and leaped in the air for no apparent reason other than for the fun of it. We've also worried about our future, refused to smile, and mourned great loss, (rest in peace Grandpa.) Still, we celebrated birthdays, a new baby, (Rio's cousin) and weddings (brother on father's side, and sister on mother's side.) We played on the beach, went horse back riding, paddled down one river in Florida, and up another in Oregon, and enjoyed a road trip to see family (and father) in North Carolina. We played dress up, gave group hugs, planted seeds, and made peace. We glorified God in our songs of praise (and will again this weekend, pictures will be forthcoming) and showed faces full of love. These words and images are testimony to how good God has been this year, as He always has been, and always will be. I am so thankful that now I see. I mean, really see.

Have my external circumstances changed? No. I'm still underemployed (working part-time waiting tables at a local Mexican restaurant and as a writing lab specialist at Santa Fe College, helping students write their essays.) Karibi and I are divorced, finalized in March, (but if it's God's will, nothing is final.) I'm still uncertain about my direction. Where am I going? and How do I get there? are questions that remain unanswered, but now I am more confident in my guide. There is light above me, and in me, and though it has yet to shine upon the next step, I trust He will, and at just the right time.

I'm looking forward to Brianna's visit. She arrives from Cali on the 26th. I'd like to take a road trip up north to go play in the snow. That's my Christmas wish. In the coming year, I will strive to exercise more, eat breakfast every day, and reduce my just-before-bed munching (I haven't been delivered from that bad habit, but there are some battles I must fight on my own!) I plan to continue writing; I am now a "truthseeker" on www.cultureunplugged.com. As a regular contributor I get paid to write about media, film, culture and consciousness. It's my best (and first) paid writing gig yet! Thanks to those of you who have taken the time to read the articles I submit. Your comments are encouraging and add support to my value as a writer.

To all my friends and family who have not yet done so, (or tried, failed, tried again, fell, gave up and now don't know what to do,) I encourage you to come to the Father. Step out in faith, with a heart like a child. Consider it your second childhood! I pray you experience the hope and joy and peace in Christ; even though December 25th was not his actual birthday, it's as good a day as any to remember the spirit in which He came, as the ultimate Christmas present. His life and sacrifice is a gift "gooder" (as Grandpa Pete would say) than any man, woman or child could ever hope to receive, whether naughty or nice. Praise God that He loves us so much! May you accept His love, dwell in it, and share it with all you meet this season, and in the year to come.

Liberte Dentro

Reflections from a ministry trip to Cuba. Musings pair with a slideshow.

A Mother's Land

The heart of Cuba is in her smile: humbly worn, spilling over boundaries, a welcome warm embrace. The smallest of her fruits color the greatness of her spirit. Laughter is her song, solo artists and choir sing praises to her Creator. Her beauty lies in recovery, trash turned into treasure. Simplicity softens hard brick walls. Her skeletons frame every cornerstone, each shelter an entrance to her story that never fades, its fullness rarely known. Her steps, heavy, carry glory. Active service clears the way. Gathered treasures leave bare behind. On the way now, just around the corner. Home, made fresh. Rough shells pared, ready. Her strength moves divers ways. The hem of her shores provide means. Her fruits bitter sweet, hand picked, refined choice. She shares her troubles with cups of comfort. What was lost is found in her eyes. Posted battle scars display her courage. Exposed stains prove labor well done. Refuse reveals what is most used. Delicate sorrows laced with blooming joy. She has everything to offer – by pound, dozen, liter, ounce – her harvest is delivered with an easy yoke. No movement is in vain; driven by purpose, her will makes a way. She approaches with boldness. Even in stillness she lays with classic grace. Her breath in every petal, her voice in every stone. Every creature, every element, every inch of earth her home. Witness character, common fellowship. Casual, seasoned. Heroic poise. Her cry, a silent light in darkness, heard and seen by heart. All parts of her come together for good to them who trust God’s glory is at work. Her emptiness, a window view of the promise her children possess. The Lord’s hand is upon her, her spirit richly blessed. And though the roads are narrow, often traveled alone, they are always open, and they all lead to home.

Free Within

Vision is biased; like beliefs we selectively choose what we want to see. Our eyes are drawn to specific people, places and things because of our thoughts and personalities. An empty milk jug is garbage to one observer, to another it is a planter. What something is depends on who is observing the object. This is true for the manner is which we view one another as well. A woman and child may appear physically poor and hungry, or rich and full in spirit. To me she may expose what is wrong with a country - oppressed and forsaken - or her struggle could reveal a country’s hope and path to liberty.  

I had double vision in Cuba. Because I live in America as a person of color, I have mastered the art of maintaining what W.E.B. Dubois called a double consciousness. Discord can be harmonized into jazz. The dissonance can create a tension that makes one feel more alive and present in the moment. Still, my American perspective inherently blurs my testimony. Even with a rather liberal consciousness, I had a hard time viewing those standing in line for a liter of milk as liberated. But I had no context, no reference point from which to compare what was with what is. Was American exploitation less evil than Cuban oppression? Subjugation less offensive than domination? Elitism less marginalizing than restricted freedom? True, no citizen of Cuba has more than the other. There is no black or white social stratification system, no upper, middle or lower economic classes. Everyone is equal; but everyone is poor. Is it better that a people are all in the same boat, even if that boat is sinking? Better to die together than alone?

This was the most notable character of Cuba. The sense of obligation to community stands in sharp contrast to American society. We have to work at building what Cubans rely upon for basic survival. Ours is a choice, a leisure agreement to cooperate with one another, fueled by a desire to live more sustainably. Theirs is a need, an urgent concession each person must make if she hopes to live a minimal existence. Despite the forced nature of community, the people of Florencia, Cuba possess a gift that has been lost in American culture, replaced by acute cases of individualism and isolation. The people of Cuba greet one another with genuine care and concern for the other’s well being. A personal visit occurs as often as we make trips to the grocery store or check e-mail. They stop in the middle of their coming or going to speak, even if they just shared a cup of coffee earlier that morning. Honest fellowship is a standard of living that far exceeds the value of our perceived freedom of choice between Coke or Pepsi.  

The most inspirational population is common in both countries; Cuban and American children represent the best in humanity. Their transparency creates authentic connections and honest communication even without the benefit of a common language. I noticed that though all children love to play, some do so with a higher intensity that borders on frenzy, devouring the opportunity to be children, absorbing the attention like our most deficit American kid. In this respect, children in Florencia mirror the energy of our youngest at-risk, traditionally disenfranchised American children, though without the social-behavioral challenges, (a difference in Cuba which may be related to heavier demands for discipline and compliance with authority.)   The greatest impression is what serves as my motivation today. I first saw it during our play time with the children. The game was simple: act out an animal well enough that we can guess the animal. When given the choice to be whatever they wanted, children and adults participated with a fervor I would expect at a college championship game. This fire, so easily kindled, spoke to my spirit. No matter our cross, God has placed liberation on our hearts. We all long to be free within.

Suffering Movement

Called to Question

Not a day goes by that I don’t question life. I have the mind of a four-year-old at times; it’s not the questions of who, what, when, or where that give me pause, but why?

Much of this inquiry has been internal. Why am I the way I am? The manner in which I define my identity is often determined by the answers given to this central question. This curiosity is then extended beyond the boundaries of my own skin. Why are people the way they are? What moves them to do what they do?

Of course there are the socio-psychological reasons, contextual clues that come together as a confluence of forces over which it seems we have no control: race, class, gender, nationality and so on. Demographics have become demigods, cultural inventions to which we honor and obey, often painfully contorting our round persons into square specifications. I believe this marks the beginning of our suffering in life. Suffering is, in fact, a universal truth that crosses cultural and geographic lines. Though degrees of suffering vary, no one is immune.

All religions try to address the issue. I have found the most honest philosophy to be that of the Buddhist: Life is suffering. Such a simple answer, however, inevitably leads the four-year-old to put her hands on her hips and ask, “But why?”

Some Answers Create More Problems

Why are children molested? Why are women raped? Why are civilians killed? Why do so few have everything while the rest of us struggle just to maintain? The Buddhists would answer that we suffer because of our desires. I agree with this in material terms but have yet to see how it responds to the above questions. Under this philosophy, children desire to be safe and protected, therefore they must let go of this desire to be free from suffering. Women are attached to the idea that their body is sacred and should not be violated; if they release their ideas about what is sacred could they reach a state of nirvana while being raped?

Obviously, this last thought is an extreme oversimplification, and it is not my intention to offend. I recognize the wisdom in much of what Buddha teaches as a very complex form of simplicity. As I grow older, however, complex theories only compound my dissatisfaction. Perhaps America’s culture of instant gratification has permeated my shield against worldliness, but I need to simplify the complicated world in which we live. Yes, this is clearly a desire, and if I simply let go of my attachment to understanding life, I will be at peace. This is one reason why I am not a Buddhist.

Still, I can see the appeal in Eastern religions. They are somewhat passive, in stark contrast to the often aggressive extremism found in some versions of Christianity and Islam. To a Buddhist, all struggle and tension are released. More to the point, under this philosophy there is a notion that offers a reason behind our suffering; karma suggests that we are all receiving our spiritual inheritance. I suffer due to bad karma, inherited because of something I did in a previous lifetime. Men in this life mistreated me, not because I allowed them, but because I was a womanizer in my past life. I am poor and needy now, not because I made unwise financial decisions, but because I was rich and selfish then. I must have also abused and neglected children. Because of this past, one I can only imagine, suffering is necessary in order for me to pay for previous sins.

There was a point in my spiritual development when I bought into the basics of karmic law, but I was misguided. I created much of own suffering to speed up the karmic process, hoping I could pay off the debt from my past life sooner. The problem with this way of thinking is obvious to any spiritually mature person: one can never know in this life the amount owed from the past. It can only be assumed based on how much one suffers - the greater the suffrage in this life, the more heinous the deed must have been in the past life.

There are some traditions, the ancient Vedanta for example, that believe God may sometimes intervene in dispensing the karma due, but only a spiritual master can tell you “the sequence in which our Karma will bear fruit.”[i] But what if the master delivers bad news: Sorry, it seems you are destined to pay the amount in full. I would pray the amount didn’t include capitalized interest! Jokes aside, there is a disarming dilemma in karmic belief systems: if one is powerless in influencing his own condition, why bother?

Karma can easily lead to excusing ourselves from the hard work of healing and living healthier in this life. Worse, if we believe we get another life after this one, what’s to keep us from relishing every inch of our fleshly desires? In today’s American society, too many conform to the “play now, pay later” mentality. If karma is true, Americans in particular will be paying off spiritual debts for many lives to come.

Christianity's "Karmic" Solution

Of course there are other, more evolved ways we can engage karma, and though it is not called karma, Christianity shares similar views. You reap what you sow. What you put out comes back to you tenfold. These phrases suggest there is a choice in the cause that creates the effect. They resonate with what is supported by science: the law of attraction - like attracts like. Negative spirits seek and invariably finds negative spirits. If my life force steals from the Creating life force, I’m destined to be bankrupt in the end. If, however, I give selflessly without expecting reward, I am promised to be given blessings beyond my imagination. "Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you" (Luke 6:38).

This solution demonstrates it would be in our best interest to become an agent in our own healing. It holds us accountable for our thoughts, behaviors, and emotions. If I think I am limited, I will be bound by those limitations. If I act like a victim, I become easy prey. If I feel depressed daily, joy will pass me by. The opposite is equally true. If you think you can overcome obstacles, you discover paths that lead the way. If you act respectable, you are given respect. If you let go of your pain, you create an open space for healing to take place. The spirit created living this way will ensure that we will not only enjoy this life, but our after-life as well.

Godliness Is Unnatural

Giving unconditionally is terribly difficult. It can be done for a day or two, some may even manage for months. Yet, invariably, they will fail if they rely on themselves to keep giving. To be like this every single moment of each day requires supernatural ability to respond to all matters spiritually. Bill Myers sets up his main character with such a challenge in The Wager. Without spoiling the ending, the moral is this: it is not within our power to be godly.

I am more likely to respond out of natural instinct – fear – rather than any super-spiritual power. I may act respectable, but there is no guarantee that I will not be disrespected, and if caught on a day when I am low on love and patience, I will most certainly lose my karma cool. Should I fall to this temptation, I damage my trouble free existence in the next life, all because someone provoked me in my moment of weakness.

This is hardly fair. Thus the major flaw in karmic law: there is no forgiveness or grace. Should I fail to think and act positively just once, karma shows no mercy. Karyn Henley notes this in her book Love Trumps Karma. “Law is impersonal. It cannot forgive. People harvest what they plant. That’s just the way it is.” Here is where Christianity, in my opinion, bridges the karmic cliff. “He is grace, mercy, forgiveness and love.” Coming to know and receive these gifts is a learning process. Henley uses the tree of knowledge as an example. “Humans needed the tree in order to grow mentally and spiritually. The tree taught us to understand God’s goodness and love. God’s purpose in all this was for humans to learn and admit that we are not God, and for humans to allow him to be God, the Supreme Creator.”[ii]

Means to a Righteous End
So according to the Christian view, it is for higher learning that we suffer. To know ease and comfort, we must become familiar with it’s opposite: suffering. To appreciate goodness, we must experience evil. To know how right God is, we must witness how wrong we are. It is a simple formula, in order to make any comparison or contrast, we need two distinct variables. The further apart in likeness, the more obvious the distinction between the two forces. Once the difference is learned, one can exercise free will to choose which force to follow. The power of the chosen force convicts and empowers us to move.

We cannot know this by nature; the best way to learn is through experience, not explanation. Herein lies the answer for why we suffer great evil: we need a sharpening tool. Great evil sharpens the image of goodness. St. Paul addresses this very issue, noting that it is through weakness we are made strong. Anyone with even a superficial understanding of life would agree that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Suffering, according to this view, is our baptism by fire, testing our metal to reveal our worth. Even Darwin would have to agree, the stronger the animal, the greater chance of survival.

Is it necessary, then, that children suffer? The answer is as difficult to swallow as suffering itself, but put simply – yes, we must all suffer. Why? As I evolve in my spirituality, and serve as steward to my own children, I have come to understand that knowing the difference between good and evil is as critical to our growth as is the knowledge of left or right, up or down. The earlier a child learns, the sooner she can choose her direction in life and act accordingly.

I am not so naïve, however, to teach my children that if they simply do good, they will be treated nicely. Even under God’s protection and grace, I can still be visited by evil. Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble.” This is parallel to the “Life is suffering” philosophy, but unlike Buddhism, Christianity has a more forgiving end: when I turn to God in my trouble, I receive His grace. Unlike the notion of karma, which says “God is very fair and gives you exactly what you deserve,"[iii] the notion of grace says that though we deserve to suffer greatly, we are liberated from our sins through faith in Christ.

This freedom has a price: when we turn to God, we must turn away from sin. This clause is for those who would run to God when they’re broken, receive the gift of grace, then turn back to sin again. This is what I call a “revolving Christian,” one who is born again, and again, and again, coming in and out of Christ’s door more often then a petty criminal in the American prison system. Sin is their identity, and until they stop identifying with what separates them from God, they will remain apart, suffering alone.

Down, But Not Out

It is on this premise that I pledge my resolve: if I am to suffer in this world, I do not want to do it alone, and I want to be strong enough to move through the trouble till its end. Yet, it is this movement that often rears resistance. To move means to change position in one direction or another. There is suffering in movement, especially if we have been stuck at the same point in our evolution for some time. The longer we have tarried, the more painful it is to move. Like pulling up dandelion roots, it is hard to let go of the ground we have covered, even if the soil no longer provides the nutrients necessary to grow. We acclimate to struggle, accepting it as part of our identity.

There are some, myself included, who have experienced so much struggle that anything else is viewed suspiciously. When presented with an opportunity to move, we hesitate or repudiate, preferring the familiar struggle instead of the unknown. We choose to stay in the struggle rather than separate from the collective suffering, for there is comfort in group thinking. At least I’m not suffering alone. Suffering alone is what weakens one’s tenacity to endure, even if we are only prolonging our suffering. This is where courageous leadership can make all the difference. One woman, too tired to walk to the back of the bus as required by law, was brave enough to refuse, sitting instead in the front. This singular action was powerful enough to move suffering to the back seat, calling on all riders who were tired of suffering to do the same.

Life is suffering. Suffering demands change. Change requires movement. People are the way they are because of suffering, or because they are free from suffering and therefore have no cause to move. What binds people together in one body is love, surely, but this expression is made possible by the experience of suffering. How quickly we join together with compassion for one another when we share similar hurts and sorrows.

Look at any tragic event throughout history; examine the movement of those who suffer as a result. No matter who they are, they are the way they are because of their response to suffering. Do they move with resistance? Do they rush through it, their actions screaming “survival of the fittest,” bullying everyone out of the way as they go? Do they recoil at the very idea of moving at all? Or is there a conscious awareness in their movement, careful and deliberate, sensing they are being made better because of their suffering? These people stop and listen before taking the next step. They reach out to offer or receive help as they limp along. They have a love of life, a resilience to survive the trouble and thrive in the life that comes after, not the next life, but in the present. They are not identified by how they have suffered, but who they have become as a result of their suffering.


[i] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karma_in_Buddhism
[ii]Henley, Karyn. Love Trumps Karma, Karyn Henley Resources, 2005
[iii] http://www.gitamrta.org/articles/caste.html