Doing What I Can

This morning I walked into the Little Ealing Primary School in London to teach my Humanitarian Musician workshop. The first thing I saw was a sign that read: 

 

Give racism the red card.

 

That was a promising start. Not the kind of sign any school would post a mere 25 years ago and certainly not 50 or 100 years ago. And still many schools today would not even dream of such a sentiment, never mind have the courage to post it. But I took it as a sign that despite all evidence to the contrary, we are actually evolving and finally refusing to keep the crazy game going and finally officially penalize the players who keep violating that simple rule. 

 

Off we went with the games and songs and dances and activities that welcome whoever is in the room to join the fun without a single thought as to whether their race, class, gender, sexual preference, nationality, age, health, learning style, dietary preference, clothing choices, etc. etc. etc. qualifies them to participate. Why would it? I mean, really. Just take a short time out from all the thinking as usual, rationalizations, justifications, histories, dismiss everything you have been told for just a moment and consider. Who cares? 

All these diverse markers of our multiple identities are either inherited (not our fault), taught (with freedom to accept or reject), or purposefully cultivated by our own choice (fine, but moving targets that can and often, should, change). As sang and clapped with partners and made up dance moves and copied others’ dance moves, all of the above was the furthest from everyone’s mind. As they should  have been. 

 

After four such activities, each one highlighting another aspect of a cultivated empathy for and embracing of the grand diversity we represent, each accenting  the indisputable common ground that connects us all, all reflected in small groups and discussed three things:

1)   What did we do?

2)   How did we do it?

3)   Why did we do it?

 

After they shared back, I gave this little talk. 

 

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I think one thing that folks on all sides of political, religious and cultural spectrums can agree on is that things are not going so well. And yet we keep doing the same things that got us there to begin with. Might it be time to consider doing something different? In the small parts of our life, we understand that if the route we usually take is obstructed with traffic or construction, we should simply take an alternate route. If we try to fix something not working on the computer one way without results, we should try something else. If the milk we hoped to use for our cereal is past the expiration date and soured, we should not use it and get a new carton. 

 

But with things in the larger scheme of human development are clearly broken—the current two-party system in politics, the environmental impact of certain machines, the disastrous effect of children raised by addictive devices, we are clearly certifiably insane as we keep doing the same things and expecting different results. 

 

Would might actually turn things around? I suggest three things: 

 

1.    Treat ourselves differently. Not just self-care, but soul care, attending to our particular purpose on the planet, learning to both love ourselves and talk sternly and honestly to ourselves when we veer off course.

 

2.    Treat each other differently. There’s not a single authentic quality of soul care that doesn’t leak over to care for others. “Remove all the things that keep us apart” says the song and the “red card” sign agrees with that. Nobody, neither victim nor perpetrator, is uplifted by hating. 

 

3.    Raise children differently. We can’t control how people feel about themselves, how they treat children or how they raise children, but in the latter, we can make the most effect by using the 6 hours a day, 5 days a week, 8 months a year, 15 to 20 years that most children are in school to “be the change we want to see in the world.” Teachers have the power, but do they always use it? That’s what we’re here for.

 

 

Back in San Francisco, I missed the No Kings Rally. Instead, here I was in London, where I taught for six hours, came back to the hotel to prepare notes, went out to dinner with 5 of the lovely 18 participants and at 11:00 pm at night, part of my body still floating somewhere in the jet-lag time-change, tried to set these thoughts down. Not as articulately as I like, but it’s the best I can do given the above. My way to protest against by building something for. 

 

Now time for sleep.