FROM HIROSHIMA TO HOPE - 2009

Just wanted to share what I experienced up here in Seattle last week on a deeply meaningful, full-moon, soft summer night...

Thanks again to Noel, who so rightly kicked my big Irish arse outta the house last Thursday... after a brutal billing week, he wisely convinced me to take a breather before jumping directly back into the deep end of the work pool. He correctly pointed out that I have been out of balance of late, working too hard, playing too little and allowing my spiritual side to slide. Duly and gratefully reminded, Flynn (the Dalmatian who kindly shares his life with me) and I hied ourselves up to Greenlake Park to walk around the lake, a lovely 2.5-mile jaunt in the afternoon Seattle sun. The thunderclap of synchronicity that followed was deafening... I had just glanced at and walked on by a flyer tacked up on the side of a building; then, for some inexplicable reason, I walked on back to read the poster, only to receive a call from Noel, checking in for a progress report at that very moment... no surprise... he’s the guy who got me going round the lake, after all, and of course he would call exactly when I found myself pulled in by the poster... “From Hiroshima to Hope – 2009,” it read… it was to be a ceremony of remembrance, respect and renewal, commemorating the first detonation of an atomic bomb in a direct and deliberate effort to wipe out human life on this planet. As I read the list of speakers and performers scheduled to appear, I felt myself responding with relief… a parched spirit in need of hydration… I knew my attendance was mandatory. I had not found my way here through such cosmic choreography only to turn away and ignore what was waiting to unfold…

I made my way back down to Greenlake on that night and, after nearly giving up for not finding a parking spot, Moby (my Jeep) found a blank stretch of curb at which to wait for my return… I parked, walked to the lake and found the venue.. there was a stage set up near the lake, as well as a tent where commemorative photos of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were on display with narrative text below each of them…there were also calligraphy tables set up where parchment sleeves could be hand-lettered by calligraphers with words of one’s own choice to decorate the lanterns that would be set afloat later... I first encountered the table of Juoti Singh and Sutinder Chawla, who had organized the calligraphers from the Gurudwara Singh Sabha of Washington. It just so happened that Noel and I had discussed that very afternoon my belief that love and hope go hand in hand; we spoke of it with respect to the current contraction of the Irish economy, and my fervent and unshakable belief that things have got to get better as the economic pendulum inevitably swings back, as it always does... so, it was really no surprise that I should see already hand-lettered on a lantern on the table... "Love" and "Hope." I smiled and told the artist that I wouldn't need to be looking anywhere else for inspiration, and he smiled back, handing me the One That Was Already There Waiting for me.

Seattle Kokon Taiko http://www.seattlekokontaiko.org/ drum members played, and inspirational speakers such as Rabbi Ted Falcon http://www.betalef.org/, Pramila Jayapal, executive director of OneAmerica http://www.weareoneamerica.com/, peace activist Esther “Littledove” John, a flautist, healing musician, teacher and composer, offered words of healing and renewal. Roxie Torres, a powerful slam poet, community activist and beautiful spirit contained in a tiny young body, treated us to one of her original compositions. She is a senior at Seattle’s Chief Sealth High School and already completely owns the Presence of One Who Will Go Far. Lummi violinist Swil Kanim and Tlingit/Cherokee/Filipino Gene Tagaban collaborated to tell stories… As Gene narrated, he was accompanied by Swil… together, they spoke of Raven as Trickster... Raven is to the North Coast Indians what Coyote is to the Indians of the desert southwest… Raven and Coyote both teach others through their own mistakes, and do so while laughing at themselves all the while… Coyote has been teaching me and informing my life for the last 20 years, so there was particular meaning for me in that story that I welcomed with full measure. The story that Gene told was of Raven being absent from Creator for a long while, returning, and Creator saying, "Where have you been? I have been waiting for you here to bring the Fire to the People..." Gene told of how Raven recruited Hawk, with his powerful wings, to fly to the sun and bring back a stick lit by its brilliance in his mouth, and how the heat of it melted his straight beak into the curved beak that Hawk has now...

When the beater first hit its mark and found its rhythm on Gene’s hand-held drum, so it also found its mark in the rhythm of my heart… I closed my eyes and felt every strand of connection that the drum has ever conferred on me at every powwow that I have ever attended… the spiritual honor of each eagle whistle… the inner joy of every pagan celebration, every outdoor, fire-lit, drum-driven dance I have ever done; every bonfire I have ever jumped; every barefoot, moonlit run that my feet have made through the cold waters of the Pacific ocean; every time I have leaned down on top of the mane of every horse that I have galloped bareback, wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling his sweat against my cheek and leaning into his power; every grape tomato, warm from my garden in the afternoon sun that has exploded in my mouth; every chicken egg that I have cajoled from the nest of a recalcitrant hen; every sheep that I have ever shorn; every rhythmic movement of my foot on the spinning wheel’s treadle; every toss of a shuttle of handspun yarn through the warp of a loom; weaving my life, weaving my knowledge that I am one with the earth, my ancestors, knowing my place, my gratitude, my awareness, my responsibility to pass that on… all of that passed before me and within me as the Raven story was told… it took my breath at the same time that it infused me with new air to breathe on a cellular level…

I stood there listening with tears streaming down my face, acknowledging spiritual absence from my life over these past few months and, as my eyes moved heavenward in thanks, I noticed a singular bat flying in an upward spiral dance above the crowd, flying dizzily above the unexpected human landscape below him and the thermal uplift from the body heat and the now-lighted lanterns..... once again, as I have recently been given a space to rediscover myself as a feminine being, on that night I was given the space to rediscover myself as a spiritual being, a Trickster, a Woman of the Earth on that Full Moon night, so much in the rhythm and balance that I need to thrive... I was lifted on thermals of my own making and those encouraged by others, equally unexpected at this time in my life, flying dizzily in an upward spiral dance of my own, and leaving me completely enriched by their power and their heat...

The sky was darkening by the time that the prayers of the Nichiren Daishonin Buddhist minister brought the crowd to a quiet and respectful close... he had asked that, once called upon to confer a blessing on all who stood before him on this night, the energy of Those who could bestow that blessing be returned to their place of Rest. We had previously been requested not to make our way to the lake with our lanterns until he had led us to do so and, as fortune would befall me, his path through the crowd found him walking directly past where I stood. He was followed by the venerated, elderly survivors of the actual Hiroshima bombing, itself... now living their lives out in Seattle, now taking part in this powerful remembrance... I was humbled in their presence and allowed the tears that came unbidden to fall uncensored as they walked past me, supported by canes, supported by wheeled walkers, supported by one another.... supported by every person in the crowd who fell silent in recognition of who they were, the enormity of what they had survived, and how truly gifted we were to be in their presence on this night... we all fell in behind them and made our way down to lakeside...

Once there, it became apparent that this part of the lake had a built-up retaining wall and elevated pier docks reaching out into the water... if one was going to set a lantern afloat, one either had to actually get down in the water, or hand the lantern to someone who was already seated on the wall at water's edge.... I found an opening, removed my shoes, sat down on the wall and lowered myself in to find rocky footing in warm, knee-deep water… I set my lantern off into the darkness, contemplating the message of love and hope that she carried as she bobbed away from me. I turned back and saw that there were many hundreds of people on the lawn sloping toward the lake wall who had no desire to get wet, but who wanted to participate, nonetheless. I offered a hand up to take a lantern from one person who asked me to, then from another and, before I knew it, I was launching lanterns.... many, many lanterns… there were smiles and thanks exchanged between us with each hand-off… thanks from them to me for facilitating, and thanks from me to them for allowing me to… the reciprocity filled me, soothed me and filled me with gratitude.

One young girl who looked to be in her mid teens approached the edge of the wall with her father, and he told her to hand her lantern to me… she did so hesitantly and then asked whether it was okay for her to get in the water… “What do you do, is it okay to just get in?” she queried… recognizing the tentative yet unmistakable passion in her face, I smiled at her, offered my hand up to hers and said simply, “I did.” Her father urged her to go ahead and, as she took my hand to take her place in the lake next to me, he and I exchanged smiles shared by elders across eternity, knowing the singular impact that this moment would have in his daughter’s life… my arms were longer than hers and, as people handed me their lanterns by the twos, I handed one of them to her for each one I set afloat… other people soon joined us and, before it was done, there was an impromptu cadre of us standing in the water, midwifing hopes, dreams, apologies and beliefs burning bright, all flickering in the flames of the lanterns moving across the lake...

As the crowd dissipated, I raised myself out of the water, donned my sandals once more, and walked up the lawn to find my way back to my Jeep. My last look back out onto the tranquility and the intent of those candlelit, bobbing prayers reinforced my belief that, 64 years after a horrendous event that carried with it the perceived possibility of a global inability to heal... we were instead all connected on that night. Those who were commemorating this event across the globe much as we were in Seattle, Washington, were all connected on that night. We are choosing this peace. We are choosing this remembrance. We are choosing this understanding. We are choosing our own path forward, paved with our unshakable belief in the triumph of the human spirit to transcend all transgression where a loving heart resides in compassion and forgiveness. We make this conscious choice buoyed by our inherent Knowing that we all possess within us the capacity to learn, to grow, to evolve and to elevate to a higher plane of understanding and acceptance… when our actions are motivated in love, there is no other choice.

We are playing new tapes in our heads... tapes containing songs authored from our own hearts… we know these songs to be True, because we sing them with spirits full to bursting with the courage of self-examination and the unparalleled freedom of unbridled joy…