The Cold Within and Niemoeller’s “first they came for the …” and Hillel’s three questions

On October 22, 2012October 22, 2012 By MaryIn alchemy, growth into humanity, stories for social changeLeave a comment

When we think about alchemy for social justice it can be a slippery slop to thinking, “but why should I have to do all the changing?!?” what about them!

Well, in my teaching days, I would remind my students about the flaw in blaming the victim — seeing a social problem, studying those most impacted by the problem, seeing how those with the problem differ from those not effected by the issue (studying the effects not the causes), and then launching into change efforts focused on getting those with the problem to change (addressing the effects and not the causes).

But, this is a place for stories not lectures, so I won’t go into all of that here. Rather, here is a bit of a poem to warm our hearts and to soften and open them to the alchemy of personal and social change!

The Cold Within

Author Unknown

Six men were trapped by circumstances in bleak and bitter cold
Each one possessed a stick of wood, or so the story’s told.
The dying fire in need of logs, the first man held his back
Because of faces round the fire, he noticed one was black.
The second man saw not one of his own local church
And couldn’t bring himself to give the first his stick of birch.
The poor man sat in tattered clothes and gave his coat a hitch.
Why should he give up his log to warm the idle rich?
The man sat and thought of all the wealth he had in store
And how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man’s face spoke revenge and the fire passed from his sight
Because he saw in his stick of wood a chance to spite the white.
The last man of this forlorn group did naught except for gain,
Only to those who gave to him was how he played the game.
Their logs held tight in death’s still hands was proof of human sin.
They didn’t die from cold without; they did from The Cold Within.

This poem very much reminds me of the quote attributed to Martin Niemoeller, a Protestant pastor born January 14, 1892, in Lippstadt, Westphalia. “First they came for the Communists, but I was not a Communist so I did not speak out. Then they came for the Socialists and the Trade Unionists, but I was neither, so I did not speak out. Then they came for the Jews, but I was not a Jew so I did not speak out. And when they came for me, there was no one left to speak out for me.”

And that quote then reminds me of Hillel’s three questions: “If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, then what am I? And if not now, when?” so many questions, so much to do, and only now to begin…

Forgiveness, humor and Ms. Neely-Templeton

On October 8, 2012October 4, 2012 By MaryIn forgiveness, stories for social changeLeave a comment

In other blog entries I have written about the importance of forgiveness and a sense of humor. This story adds longevity to the mix … In my dreams about what a world that was structured to uphold social justice and that honored human rights, women like the one in this story would hold a very special place. Indeed, we all should live so long as to be this kind of lady!

So, while I’m not much of a church going soul these days, once upon a time in another time and universe, one Sunday I found myself in one of the local churches – I was kind of drawn to it as the Café I set off for was closed, and the bill board said the talk (homily?) was about forgiveness – so I though, what the ‘h’ I’ll see what she has to say. So, the good reverend launched into her talk and reminded everyone about the new testament invocation to forgive those who you think have wronged you seven times seventy times – a nice reminder I thought. Then as she was pulling things together, she asked the congregation for a show of hands: “How many of you can say that you have forgiven at least most of your enemies?”

Fortunately for me, I was sitting in the back, so I could see that nearly two thirds of the good folks in the church raised their hands. The minister then rephrased her question and asked, “How many of you can say that you want to forgive your enemies?”

To that question I could see that the entire congregation gladly raised their hands, all but one gracious, elegantly poised lady sitting in the very front of the church. Well, I settled back in my seat and thanked the sweet goddess that I live in Milford, confident in the knowledge that if I mess up, the odds are pretty good that I can hope to be pardoned by my neighbors – all but one apparently!

The minister smiled a wry little grin and asked, “Ms. Neely-Templeton, do you mean that you are not willing to forgive you enemies?”

“Good, Reverend Pastor, I just don’t have any enemies to forgive,” she replied, smiling sweetly.

“Ms. Neely-Templeton, that is remarkable. And, how old are you?”

“Ninety-eight,” she replied. As if we were one, everyone in the congregation – I will confess to it, even me – we all stood up and clapped our hands with awe and respect and the generous, compassionate heart that this woman must have been nurturing all her years. It just nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“Ms. Neely-Templeton, would you please stand up and tell us all how a person can live ninety-eight years and not have an enemy in the world? What is your secret for forgiveness?”

With all of her poise, grace and elegance, Ms. Neely-Templeton stood up, smiled warmly at the minister, turned to face the congregation, and said, “I just outlived the sons-a-bitches.”

I left church that day with a radiant smile on my face and glowing warmth in the very depths of the cockles of my heart. In my world of justice and human rights, there will be a lot of folks just like Ms. Neely-Templeton.

Last night I wrote the strangest blog — the bull and the butterfly

On October 1, 2012October 1, 2012 By MaryIn alchemy, change, growth into humanity, spiritual growth, stories for social change, vision and perspective1 Comment

Now and again I find myself thinking, wondering, not quite worrying about where the next story will come from. When I find myself in those quandaries I meander over to the computer and google (how DID we ever live without google?). So, recently I googled “social change” and “stories.” When that didn’t yield what I wanted, I tried “parables” instead. That lead to some interesting links. One was a parable about a bull and a butterfly.

In my version of the parable there was a bull named Butch who wanted to trash a china shop because the rumor around the farm was that the owner of the shop not only did not carry fair trade china, but also participated in human trafficking. But, Butch resisted the urge because he did not want to feed the ‘bull in a china shop’ stereotypes, and he didn’t want to wind up in the slaughter house becoming nothing more than burger meat for some fast food chain. So, butch stomped around the pasture storming and steaming, but getting nothing much done. As he paused under a tree, a butterfly, Mariposa, landed on Butch’s ear, and asked him what the trouble was. Butch twitched his ear, to be rid of her, but Mariposa was not to be dissuaded.

“Butch, what’s up with you today?” She persisted.

Butch was nothing if not a realist, so he told her the story.

Mariposa laughed at hearing the story, paragon of empathy and compassion that she is not. “Butch, you have been rendered impotent by your self-consciousness and social anxiety. Big as you are, I have more power than you. I am fast, I am nimble, I can flit, I can fly. I can render the butterfly effect. I flap my wings in California and incite a tornado in New Jersey.”

At that Butch laughed, and said, “Well, Ms. Mariposa, I suppose then we are about equal, if you have all of that power and don’t bother to use it.”

And the meaning of this parable? So many I suppose … impotence rendered by excessive worry about what others will think, by fear of consequences, by attachment to identities.

And, as I thought about the meanings and implications I found myself caught on the idea of attachments and identities, and I remember Chuang Tzu’s dream about a butterfly. One night Chuang Tzu dreamt that he was a butterfly, flying here and there and seeing the world from new heights, gaining a new perspective on life and living. He woke with a new sense of lightness. And then he thought to himself, “yesterday, was I a man who dreamt about being a butterfly, or today am I a butterfly who dreams about being a man?” And, as he rose to greet the day, he said to the sangha, “last night I had the strangest dream.”

And, that phrase of course led me to remembering the Arlo Guthrie, Joan Baez and Simon and Garfunkel tune …

Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream

words and music by Ed McCurdy

Last night I had the strangest dream I’d ever dreamed before I dreamed the world had all agreed To put an end to war

I dreamed I saw a mighty room Filled with women and men And the paper they were signing said They’d never fight again

And when the paper was all signed And a million copies made They all joined hands and bowed their heads And grateful pray’rs were prayed

And the people in the streets below Were dancing ’round and ’round While swords and guns and uniforms Were scattered on the ground

Last night I had the strangest dream I’d never dreamed before I dreamed the world had all agreed To put an end to war.

And I know that dreaming is not enough. But I also know that dreaming is a necessary first step. Dreaming, meaning making … and then action, yes? yes!

All of which led me to write this strangest blog.

And, so, please … it really is time to share! What meanings can you find in the parable of the bull and the butterfly? What meanings can you find in any of this? What actions are you taking for peace and justice?

Watch out for Silver Lamps

On September 3, 2012August 30, 2012 By MaryIn growth into humanity, stories for social changeLeave a comment

Over the course of time any relationship will develop its own package of quirks, oddities and idiosyncrasies. If the relationship is happy and healthy it will grow inside jokes and code words. One of our code words is “silver lamp” and the story of how that came to have its meaning is kind of funny and maybe worth retelling – maybe.

So, way too many years ago when we were just getting to know each other, when we were newly living together, a couple of young beginning professionals, we were in circumstances that we described as “Champaign taste and a beer pocketbook.” It’s an odd reference in itself, since we don’t especially love Champaign; our tastes run more to red wine, maybe cabernet sauvignon or merlot. But, the image is apt enough – we liked nice things, but we were young and new in our professions and so – well we needed to be careful about budgeting.

We had been living in a very (VERY) small one bedroom apartment. The apartment had a hallway that we called the kitchen because that’s where the sink, stove and refrigerator were located – a person could be there and do some cooking, but two people in that space was more than a little tight. There was a living room where all of the living happened, and that was about it. The living room was interesting in its own right though because the building was old, the apartment was on the second floor looking out over the river, and the foundation was sinking ever so slowly and slightly on one side. So, anything set down in one place would be found a few inches away soon enough because of the slope. Cat toys were great because they very fluidly rolled across the floor with no help from us at all. I still miss the quirks of that first apartment. But more space is even nicer.

Because we were indeed careful and plan-full about budgeting we finally saved up enough to move into a condominium. The condo was still one bedroom, but it had a real kitchen (not just a hallway with appliances), and a dining room and living room! The square footage we were going to be furnishing grew exponentially, as did our furnishing needs.

We needed to get a good bit of new furniture, and we were committed to our budget. So, off we went to shop – furniture stores, department stores, all kinds of store. We found most of what we needed/wanted – a dining room table and chairs, comfortable chairs for the living room, proper desks and bookshelves, lots of stuff. We settled in to our new space, and life was sweet. We were happy. And, then as we actually settled in, we (mostly I) realized that we really did not have a comfortable reading space. We had wonderful chairs and a nice sofa. But the light was just not good. So, after looking, thinking and processing the situation for a good bit (remember two women can process anything for ever). We had just spent a lot of money. The condominium was starting to look good and was feeling comfortable. All we needed was one more lamp.

So, back to the stores we went – furniture stores, department stores, lighting stores, all kinds of stores. We saw lots of lamps – most of them where just not quite right, and the ones that came close didn’t fit the budget. So we kept looking. And then we discovered Ikea. What a find! Great furniture (well, OK, lots of furniture some of it great) at very reasonable prices. What a find. So, we shopped for a floor lamp. We each had an image of what we were looking for (not necessarily a good thing when you are talking about two women who took 8 months to find the ‘right’ white shirt). So, we looked. We had seen some lamps that we liked quite a lot, but they were a good bit more than we wanted to spend, so we kept looking. Then, there we were back at Ikea. We had already scoured every other store we could envision. So, we scoured the lighting section at Idea and found a lamp that pretty much fit the description of what we were looking for, it was kind of alright. It wasn’t exactly what either of us wanted, but the color was right, the shape was in the right family – white shade, silver pole, white base, simple, clean Scandinavia style. Not quite as upscale as we wanted, but upscale costs and the price was right.

We both stood there looking at it. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know what do you think?

“Well … I asked you first.”

“OK, but I’m not sure. Do you like it?”

“It’s OK, I guess. What do you think?”

“It is the size and color we want. Silver [chrome really, but the color was silver looking] will go with the colors in the sofa.”

“And it’s not expensive.”

“And we need a lamp.”

In all of that conversation, you will notice the lack of enthusiasm. Never a good sign. But there was nothing exactly wrong with the lamp. So we bought it, and brought it home.

Once we got home, I unboxed it, put it together (yes, I am one of the few people in the world who can actually understand and follow Idea directions. And, on the second iteration of assembly I even get things put together correctly.) So, the lamp is now together and in place in our new living room. And it was – well, it was kind of OK. It was just missing a bit of, well of je-ne-sais-quoi. It shed light well enough, it was quite functional. It just didn’t have that something that makes things right. Once it was put together and in the right place, plugged in, and turned on .. well, it worked. We both looked at it, and while we didn’t hate it, we didn’t love it either. But, we had it, Ikea was a long drive, the price was right, so we decided to live with it. And, as we lived with the silver lamp, we learned to tolerate it. That was my first lesson that tolerance is not good enough. Whenever I am doing diversity work and someone advocates ‘tolerance’ of a group that is different, I remember our tolerance of the silver lamp, and I know that I don’t want to be tolerated, and I don’t want any of my friends to be tolerated.

Back to the lamp. Well, sooner rather than later, we saved up a bit of money, went out shopping again and found the right lamp, one that really looked good, one that we both really liked. The new lamp was brass, and we came home feeling like we had caught the brass ring on the carrousel. Yes, the new lamp cost a little bit more than the ‘silver lamp’ but if we had saved the money we spent for the silver lamp and just put that on the brass one, we would have saved money in the long run.

So, a ‘silver lamp’ for us is something that looks like a bargain, but winds up being unsatisfactory and costs more in the long run. And, tolerable really isn’t all that acceptable or endurable. Good enough is only good enough if it is great.

Have there been silver lamps in your life? come on, share!!

What are some of the code words that have developed in your relationships?

When to be practical

On August 20, 2012August 16, 2012 By MaryIn alchemy, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, spiritual growth, stories for social changeLeave a comment

When to be Practical – A somewhat revised version of a Sufi Story by Mohammed Gwath Shattari

The good Sisters of Mary Magdalene were grieving the loss of Sister Visentia. Some of the sisters found themselves holding Sister Septimus culpable – for leaving Sister Visentia on her own with the bear chasing her, for not marshalling a search party of the other sisters sooner, and just because they just really liked Sister Visentia better (although none of the good sisters would admit this last reason). To help them deal with their grief and to heal their relationships, Sisters Bryda, Ludwika and Septimus decided to set off on a retreat together. For their retreat, they elected to hike the Appalachian Trail. As they hiked the trail, the good Sisters discussed the importance of putting into practice everything they had learned in the cloister, and they committed themselves to helping each other sink their roots more deeply into a spiritual life of social justice.

Together the good sisters discussed the nuances of love and compassion, they talked about the golden rule, the platinum rule, about the importance of self love as a foundation for loving others well. They found themselves talking about Sister Visentia, her embodiment of all they cherished in the rule of Mary Magdalene. They found themselves chuckling at some of Sister Visentia’s odd little habits – the way she would poke out her lower lip when she was thinking and when she was pouting or sulking a bit. And the laugher helped to ease their loss. They walked and talked, and soon they we so engrossed in their thoughts and conversation that it was quite late at night when they realized that all they had with them was one piece of somewhat stale, hard bread. And they concurrently realized that they were well along the most remote portion of the Appalachian Trail where they were not likely to encounter others and they would not come to a town for a few days more journey.

But, all in all the day had been a sweet one, and so the Sisters decided not to discuss who most should/would eat the bread; since they were pious women, they decided to leave the decision in the hands of the Mary Magdalene to patron saint of their order. They prayed that during the night their patron would inspire them with the wisdom to know who should eat the bread.

The following morning, the three women rose together at sunrise.

“This is my dream,” said the Sister Ludwika. “I was taken to places I had never visited before, and enjoyed the sort of peace and harmony I have sought in vain during my entire life on earth. In the midst of this paradise, our mother, Mary Magdalene said to me: “you are my chosen servant, you never sought pleasure, always renounced all things of this world. This hard, dry bread holds with the path you have chosen, and I choose you to partake of its sustenance.”

“That’s very strange,” said the Sister Bryda. “For in my dream, I saw my past of service and devotion to the sisters, to our order and to our patron Mary Magdalene. Our Patron spoke to me and affirmed my future role within our cloister. As I gazed at that which is to come, I heard our mother Mary Magdalene, saying: “You are in great need of food for I have called you to works of service that will require strength and energy.”

Then Sister Septimus said:”In my dream I saw nothing, went nowhere, and found no wise women. However, at a certain hour during the night, I suddenly woke up and was overcome with hunger. So I ate the bread.”

The other two were furious:”And why didn’t you wake us up and consult with us before making such a vital decision that effects us all!?”

“How could I?” Said Sister Septimus, “You were both so far away, talking with our mother, Mary Magdalene, and having such holy visions! Yesterday we discussed the importance of putting into practice all that we learn in the cloister. In my case, God acted quickly, and had me awake dying of hunger!”

This story illustrates the need to nurture ourselves, and the importance and place of self care, as well as the dilemma of balancing self care and caring for others, and the ability to laugh at ourselves and with others.

A Fence or an Ambulance

On August 6, 2012July 16, 2012 By MaryIn alchemy, social justice, stories for social change2 Comments

Last week I posted my version of the Allegory of the River. Any time I think about that story, I find myself thinking about the poem about the ambulance and the fence as well. You can find the poem all over the internet. It is attributed to Joseph Malins (1844-1926), who was a temperance activist in Massachusetts and in England. Malins is believed to have written this poem in 1895.

A Fence or an Ambulance

Joseph Malins (1895)

– a poem about prevention –

‘Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed,

Though to walk near its crest was so pleasant;

But over its terrible edge there had slipped

A duke and full many a peasant.

So the people said something would have to be done,

But their projects did not at all tally;

Some said, “Put a fence ’round the edge of the cliff,”

Some, “An ambulance down in the valley.”

But the cry for the ambulance carried the day,

For it spread through the neighboring city;

A fence may be useful or not, it is true,

But each heart became full of pity

For those who slipped over the dangerous cliff;

And the dwellers in highway and alley

Gave pounds and gave pence, not to put up a fence,

But an ambulance down in the valley.

“For the cliff is all right, if your careful,” they said,

“And, if folks even slip and are dropping,

It isn’t the slipping that hurts them so much

As the shock down below when they’re stopping.”

So day after day, as these mishaps occurred,

Quick forth would those rescuers sally

To pick up the victims who fell off the cliff,

With their ambulance down in the valley.

Then an old sage remarked: “It’s a marvel to me

That people give far more attention

To repairing results than to stopping the cause,

When they’d much better aim at prevention.

Let us stop at its source all this mischief,” cried he,

“Come, neighbors and friends, let us rally;

If the cliff we will fence, we might almost dispense

With the ambulance down in the valley.”

“Oh he’s a fanatic,” the others rejoined,

“Dispense with the ambulance? Never!

He’d dispense with all charities, too, if he could;

No! No! We’ll support them forever.

Aren’t we picking up folks just as fast as they fall?

And shall this man dictate to us? Shall he?

Why should people of sense stop to put up a fence,

While the ambulance works in the valley?”

But the sensible few, who are practical too,

Will not bear with such nonsense much longer;

They believe that prevention is better than cure,

And their party will soon be the stronger.

Encourage them then, with your purse, voice, and pen,

And while other philanthropists dally,

They will scorn all pretense, and put up a stout fence

On the cliff that hangs over the valley.

Better guide well the young than reclaim them when old,

For the voice of true wisdom is calling.

“To rescue the fallen is good, but ’tis best

To prevent other people from falling.”

Better close up the source of temptation and crime

Than deliver from dungeon or galley;

Better put a strong fence ’round the top of the cliff

Than an ambulance down in the valley.

So, the poem argues strongly for putting a fence around the top of the cliff. I’m a feminist, and I guess a bit of a pragmatist. In my mind there is no fence strong enough to keep everyone away from the edge of the cliff. Prevention is important for sure — it is absolutely necessary! And, I am a feminist. So, for me it is always both/and. Yes the fence! and Yes the ambulance as well — because some revolutionary anarchist is going to see that fence and take it as a challenge, as a boundary that must be broken — and who will then slip and slide down that slippery slope. So, fence and ambulance both for me!

what’s your vote? thought? reaction??

An Allegory about Rescuing the Children in the Raritan River

On July 30, 2012August 16, 2012 By MaryIn alchemy, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, social justice, stories for social change1 Comment

Sister Septimus had been out walking with Sister Visentia in the woodlands surrounding their cloister, the convent of the good sisters of Mary Magdalene. When Sister Septimus came back into the cloister alone, a search party was organized to look for sister Visentia. Two of the sisters in the search party, Sisters Bryda and Ludwika soon found themselves walking along the banks of the Raritan River as they searched for Sister Visentia.

The day before all of this there had been torrential rains across all of Hunterdon County, so the river was much higher than usual. This day the typically serene South Branch of the Raritan was swollen to the tops of its banks, the waters were thundering by and all in all the river looked unusually treacherous! As they peered over the banks of the river hoping that they would not see Sister Visentia in such a dangerous location, to their shock and horror, they saw a toddler bobbing in the river thrashing and struggling to keep her head above water.

Sister Bryda immediately slipped out of her cowl, scapular and tunic and dove into the river. She reached the young girl just as the child was about to go under for the third time and handed her out to Sister Ludwika. Ludwika wrapped the child in Sister Bryda’s scapular to cover her and warm her, and was ready to help Sister Bryda out of the water when they both saw another child up river a bit, and struggling. So, Sister Bryda swam up to the child, caught him and handed him up to Sister Ludwika.

Again just a Bryda was about to ask Sister Ludwika for a hand to get herself out of the river, they both hear a pair of children calling for help. Of course Bryda could not let them drown, so back into the cold, torrential river she swam. It was feeling to her that the water was getting progressively colder, and the current faster and deeper. But, these were young children, she just could not let any harm come to them. So back after them she went.

And, yes, just as she was handing the last child to Sister Ludwika, Ludwika pointed upstream again – more children! Sister Ludwika was horrified, and she could see that Sister Bryda was near exhaustion. So, Ludwika quickly helped Bryda out of the water and jumped in herself to continue the rescue operation. This went on for a while, and now both Sisters were passed exhaustion and barely able to move.

Sister Ludwika crawled out of the river, and rasped to Sister Bryda, “Someone must be throwing children into the river! I’ve got to go and stop them.”

“But, Ludwika, you can’t leave me here alone. It is taking both of us to get these children out of the water. We can’t just let them drown, and I can’t do this alone.” Sister Bryda gasped.

“Bryda, if I don’t stop whoever is throwing these children into the water, we will both be too exhausted to be any good to anyone.” countered Ludwika. And, with that she turned her back on Bryda and the toddlers, and started to walk upstream to find out who was throwing the children in the river, and to stop them. It was one of the hardest decisions Ludwika had ever made.

Sister Ludwika’s intention was prevention, but her action looked (and felt) like abandonment. Efforts for change are risky. The outcomes are rarely clear and certain. To those doing the more immediate work of addressing and repairing the harms caused by injustices, energy and resources committed to long term goals can feel like a depletion of much needed emergency resources. To those committed to longer term social change strategies targeting social change to bring about the alchemy of social justice, emergency triage work can feel short sighted. Truth be told, both are necessary. We need to heal the wounds of injustice – we need to pull the children from the river. We need to contain the consequences of injustice – we need to ensure that the children we pull from the river are loved and fed and we need to see that they don’t catch pneumonia. And, we need to build a world where fairness and respect for human dignity are the norm – we need to prevent more children from being thrown into the river. And all of that takes a village.

(versions of this story are common among community organizers. some folks attirbute early renditions of it to Saul Alinsky.)

doing well with the best of intentions — maybe

On April 25, 2012 By MaryIn stories for social changeLeave a comment

A pair of somewhat universally acknowledged ethical mandates set out the expectation that we should do no harm, and that where possible we should do some good. Terry Goodkind, author of the Sword of Truth series spells out 11 Wizards Rules. The second rule is that the greatest harm can result from the best intentions. It can be very hard to predict the consequences of our actions, even those actions we undertake with the best of intentions. … that gives me pause when I think about acting to bring about social change. It really gives me pause when I catch myself thinking that my way, my idea, my plan is better than someone else’s way, plan or idea.

Here’s Zen story that helps me to think more generously about doing well with the best of intentions.

Ludwik was a farmer in a small Polish village where my grandparents grew up. Ludwik worked his fields with all his energy for many years. One day his horse ran way. When the neighbors heard the news, they came to commiserate with the farmer on his bad luck. “Taka szkoda.” They said.

“It’s a pit! How awful for you” Ludwik just shrugged and said: “May be”

The next day, the horse returned, bringing with it three wild horses. “To wspaniałe! — How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed. “May be,” Ludiwk replied.

The next day the Ludwik’s son Pawel tried to ride one of the wild horses. He was thrown, and broke his leg. Again the neighbors came saying “Taka szkoda” to offer their sympathy. “May be,” Ludwik replied.

Well, a few days go by and then the army passed through the village to draft young men into service. Because Pawel’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors again sought out Ludwig saying ” To wspaniałe!” congratulating him on how well things had turned out for his family. “May be,” Ludwik simple said.

What is doing good? What will cause harm? It’s hard to know beneficence in the short run may have profound unintended consequences in the longer run. What feels harmful today, well … if it doesn’t kill you it will only make you stronger?!?

the butterfly effect and efforts to help

On April 22, 2012 By MaryIn alchemy, change, stories for social change1 Comment

Alchemy is all about change. And, if there will be justice and respect for human rights in this world of our, then some fairly serious change is necessary. And, yet, the right change, at the right time, in the right place, with the right people, in the right way is essential. I am much more inclined to believe that the means define then ends than I am to accede to the ends defining the means. As story that I love to tell about the important of patience and ends and means and about respect for the dignity and abilities of others involves a little girl who LOVED butterflies. The way I tell it …

Once, in a place far away and very near, there was a young girl who was fascinated with butterflies. She loved to see their colors, to watch them glide and sail on the breezes. Her favorite plant in the field next to her home was the resplendent butterfly bush. One spring, just before she turned 13, just as she was beginning to see with clearer eyes and a heart yearning to mend the suffering of the world, she was meticulously watching the cocoons, watching for the first butterflies to emerge. She ever so patiently watched, attending to the suffering of the chrysalis as it struggled to break the bonds of the cocoon, straining for the freedom of life as a butterfly. Her heart yearned to help. She ached with sadness for the struggle. And, then it came to her. She went into her fathers workshop, found his exacto knife, and ever so gentle, ever so delicately, she cut the slightest incision in the cocoon, transforming the chrysalis in to the butterfly it was meant to be. It burst out of the cocoon, spread its beautiful wings, floated gracefully for a moment, and then tumbled to crash into the red maple tree next to the butterfly bush. She watched as the infant butterfly struggle to straighten its wings. It struggled, and seemed to tire, and then just faded into the mulch at the base of the tree. Heartbroken our girl-child ran to her grandmother and told her what happened.

Grandmother gathered the girl into her arms, smiled through her tears, “My granddaughter,” she said, “your heart is warm and wonderful. You must challenge your intellect to grow to the same depth in its knowledge and wisdom. The chrysalis in the cocoon must struggle for its freedom to build its strength for flight and freedom and survival in this world. When you rescued it before its time, when you cut it free too soon, it had built the strength in its wings to fly, and so it could not do what it needed to do to live. Each of us, Child, must live through our own struggles, to build the strengths and skills we will need for our lives. If you would help, you must know when and how to enter the struggles of others so that each finds her own best strength and power.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: