Being called by our true names

Sept. 11, 2003

Dear Ken,

Today's date is one of those burned into the American consciousness, like Dec. 7 and July 4. Or for my own and earlier 20th century generations, Nov. 22. The assassination of President John F. Kennedy and the attack on America at the World Trade Center both cost Americans worlds of innocence.

We usually speak of innocence being lost. Often it is taken away.

A young child embodies innocence. Gradually, through experiences that bring joy and pain and suffering, that innocence is transformed. Into what is up to us.

I don't think of innocence in terms of lacking sinfulness or guilt. Innocence is untested. The test is to become more aware, to walk the Earth with our eyes wide open to the reality behind the dualistic diorama.

As a child, I and some of my friends were befriended by a man who took us to baseball games and on hunting trips. Everyone thought he was a great friend to children.

But what he wanted was to see little boys with their clothes off.

I run into this man at public events from time to time. He's jovial. He lies to himself. Part of my spiritual practice is to have compassion for this wounded man.

A healer I go to says pain is wisdom. Go into whatever pain you are experiencing and you will find the thing you need to learn, the thing you need to do, she says.

The trauma of Sept. 11, 2001, has lessened but the pain is still in us. We have responded to being attacked by attacking back. We could not turn the other cheek to such a murderous disdain for life, for innocence. It is impossible. We understand perhaps a bit more now how the Israelis and Palestinians feel. But living as a victim is not the way of peace.

In his book "Being Peace," the Buddhist monk and poet Thich Nhat Hanh writes about the days during the Vietnam War when young Buddhist monks were trying to help people rebuild their villages after bombings. Many were killed by the communists, who suspected them of helping the other side. The anti-communists killed the monks too, for the same reason.

Monks then began committing suicide, setting themselves afire to awaken compassion in others.

Nhat Hanh's point is that there is no other side. There is only our side, the side of compassion. In his poem "Please Call Me By My True Names," he writes:

"I am the mayfly metamorphosing

on the surface of the river,

and I am the bird which, when spring comes,

arrives in time to eat the mayfly.

... I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,

my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,

and I am the arms merchant,

selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

... My joy is like spring, so warm

it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life,

My pain is like a river of tears, so full

it fills up the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can hear all my cries and my laughs at once,

so I can see that my joy and pain are one...

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.