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Sunday, August 3, 2014

Everyday after the Revolution is Samsara

Even upon the triumph of anticolonial struggle,
Each day is still Samsara. The winners of this war are as human as the losers were, that is,
with all the capacity for oppression (and redemption) that this humanity implies.

The oppressed become the oppressors
And there is no time to be in the least bit surprised.

This, of course, does not mean that I abandon my will to justice,
My will to nudge and edge toward this sort of revolutionary cultural change that is the rightful work of any ethically engaged person...
I tread carefully.

Only that this work itself is foolhardy if it imagines its completion as the summit of all human endeavour. We are tracing a dangerous precipice, not only climbing a mountain.

There is a deep and horrid wellspring of loneliness amidst the hypnotic meaning making of the progressive Left, whose espoused values I mostly share... This loneliness, of course, is not strictly the province of the Left, but it strikes me as part of the poverty of relationship that seems concurrent both with secular multiculturalism and its ethnocentric, parochially conservative counterparts.

This poverty of relationship is not easily remediable either by simply being in the company of others nor by my journaling about it, as if being so identified and named, it might wistfully take its leave of our era.

Solo meditation too, in the highly individualistic models of the imported Buddhism, while deeply nourishing, will not suffice.

For a young and heroic Left, I sense that our hearts must neither harden, nor indeed that we remain only tender and soft to witnessing suffering.
No, I am exploring that we must be collectively heart broken.
Our hearts must break, open.
We must grieve with the people who are not us, who may never be like us.
We must grieve as if all the lost loved ones in the world were our own lost, loved ones.
Grieve, not only in outraged sentimentality, but also as if we have lost our lover to betrayal and deceit.
Grieve and hurt and be hurt and be wounded and broken open to the fullest ache of abandonment and the loss of faith in our future or in any possibility for an alternative...

For when we are so fully defeated, in this sense, we will become stronger again. Wiser. We will be cautious, of course, yet we will love again. We will love again. We will remember our past foibles with fondness! As global citizens, we will cease to either sentimentalise violence or forget the good that was always present among history's oppressive and tragic victors, that we were never "written out of the story", but were simply listening.

We have been listening.
We are still listening.

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