Thinking on the Effects of War

I woke up this morning feeling the usual heaviness I’ve had since my family moved back to Seattle. My dreams are dark, and my body is achy and just uncomfortable. I wondered to myself as I was getting ready to take my son to school, " Will I ever feel good again”? Then my mind went to how people are stricken by war right now, and about how they must feel darkness every day.  I’m not talking about any one particular party, religion, or country. I’m just talking about the anguish of war itself and living with that on a daily basis.

I was troubled by the thought of what kind of daily dread people must feel during times of war when their city is being bombed. I stood there questioning if that kind of fear and pain can permeate people collectively on some level? How people in war-torn countries feel might be a part of our collective reality.  

To better understand where I am coming from with these questions, I want to share a glimpse of an incident that happened to me in my late thirties. They say god sees everything. I used to think this was just something religious people said to make us fall in line and behave in a way they felt was appropriate. Then, I had an experience while meditating at a retreat. I was coming out of meditation and fell asleep. As I was waking up, I became aware of something else watching my dream. I don’t remember what I was dreaming about, but there was something other than what I identify as myself watching it.

As bizarre as it was, I knew what I felt and asked my teacher to explain it to me during break. My teacher would usually use the word 'transcendent' for what others mean by 'God'. I’m telling you this because my question was: Is the transcendent always there, but we just aren't aware of it? He knows I hate talking in front of people, but he asked me to ask it in the group anyway. After I asked my question in front of everyone, he just looked at me without answering. The awkward silence prompted me to explain the dream and how I realized that something other than me was watching it. I didn’t feel crazy, but I was afraid others might see me that way. All he said to the group and me was, “That was God.” My body started shaking at this unexpected answer. He immediately moved on to something else while I sat there, physically freaking out. It felt like my body couldn't handle the answer.

Since that day, I have been integrating what happened. I have come to feel that god knows everything about me, but I do not know its nature—though I ponder it daily. This god knows me intimately on all levels, and because of this, I wonder: can I ever truly lie to myself? It’s like being naked, but in front of what? These thoughts returned to me this morning, prompting me to question whether we would have the deadly wars that create so much darkness if we couldn’t lie to ourselves. I don’t know God’s nature, whether war is needed, or whether everything is meant to be. What I do know is that something else sees it all. Would knowing when we are lying and justifying it to ourselves help us reach solutions that don’t involve mass destruction? Could we come to an agreement if we realized we really don’t have the full picture? Maybe we could admit that we really don’t know what life is all about?

My hope is that it would instill humility in us, helping us recognize our own humanity. Maybe it would help us listen to each other and engage in a dialogue similar to what Dr. Bohm discusses in his book “On Dialogue”.

Returning to my original question: on some level, are we feeling others' fear and pain? I do not know; instead, I ask—Is this other, this God, or the transcendent part of my being? If it is a part of me that I am unaware of, wouldn’t I see and feel what it does on some level? Wouldn’t we all? If we are not doing it in the moment, will there be another place and time that we do feel it?

I’m not writing this for answers; it's more for reflection on our current state of affairs. I am scared for our world, and I sense another direction, but first, we have to acknowledge our own humanity.