Yesterday, while keeping busy with the metering of note cards and greeting of Northerner’s at the model homes in which I temporarily toil, I met two women. They were girlfriends in their 50’s who left their husbands at home and were enjoying a week of sun and sand together. All seemed good as we engaged each other in conversation. They were both from Long Island, New York, which gave us an instant common denominator. (My mom is from New York and my parents live there again). Until the overt racism came forth, I would have considered the meeting basically pleasant.

There I am, in a position of customer service, met with the challenge of being engaged in conversation with racist commentary. Not like this is new. I am white, after all.

It’s like that Eddie Murphy skit that he did on SNL back in the day. You know the one…when he dresses in white face and experiences life in a privileged, white America. It is damn funny. One part shows him on the bus, and when the last black person gets off, the cocktails come out, disco ball drops, and the party gets started, as if the “real” life of being white in America can commence, now that the black folk aren’t watching.

The funny part is that, while the skit is exaggerated for effect, the message is well taken. Because I am white, other white people presume that they are free to make totally racist comments to me, as if we are secretly in some “white club of supremacists” together. Not so.

The challenge I faced was to react with compassion and understanding, instead of completely shooting down this tired and ignorant rhetoric. (Like I just did there). Well, I am not that evolved now, but I was able to at least remain calm and inquisitive. That sparked one of the women to half-heartedly apologize for her “piggish-ness,” proclaiming that she was just “raised that way.” Ho hum.

At home last night, I thought about this exchange, annoyed that I work in a place, even if temporarily, in which I must be subjected to such spewing. A reminder, I thought, of how I am not on the path that I wish to be on, with insightful, intelligent, ego-less people all along the way shining their light, allowing me to better myself by osmosis. Ha ha.

And then, the movie Gandhi was on. Just like that. Right there on the Tee-Vee. As if to say, “so, you think you’ve got it hard, huh? Poor you, privileged white woman in a white country, having to listen to other white women be racist. AWE.” But better than that. So much better.

It reminded me that the best way to change the world is by changing myself. (This, again. Hmmm). To aspire to the place at which these women merely present an opportunity to shine light. That sometimes, not replying with words, but instead teaching through action, is the best way to lead. And those words, “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind” uttered by Gandhi at a time when he and his people were being beaten and murdered, rang loud and true in my head.

The universe, in all of her infinite glory, wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing all of this, as if whispering to me, “you are ready and now is the time.” And then she gave me this on the way home from work tonight…

The Nickel Creek, Pennsylvania Amish community, one-year after a shooting that killed 5 Amish children (the killer was NOT Amish, and killed himself in the tragedy), donated money to the killer’s widow and her three young children. An act of forgiveness is the reason, while living their truth is the catalyst.

I think the most powerful demonstration of the depth of Amish forgiveness was when members of the Amish community went to the killer’s burial service at the cemetery…Several families, Amish families who had buried their own daughters just the day before were in attendance and they hugged the widow, and hugged other members of the killer’s family.”

I’m not sure if I totally believe that non-violence is always the answer. Theoretically, it’s clearly the way, but when I picture myself in a situation that threatens the lives of me and my loved ones, I doubt my ability to remain a pacifist. It is something to work towards, though, as lofty as it may be. And these stories, of every day people commiting incredible acts of super-human-ness – perfectly and simply – help to show me the way.

“When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it–always.” -Mahatma Gandhi

While loading the running car with the last of my things, checklist taunting my brain and airline tickets in my pocket, I returned to the house with the sound of the phone ringing. It was my dad, expressing concern about my flight leaving Laguardia Airport that day. Neither of us quite understood what he was happening, but he suggested that my mom and I turn on the TV. As we watched, shocked and confused by the North Tower of the World Trade Center burning, we heard scattered reports of a commercial airline crashing into the building. Soon thereafter, we witnessed, live and on television, the second plane crash into the South Tower. At this point, reporters and viewers alike seemed to be in complete confusion, not to mention the terribly frightened people on the streets of lower Manhattan. Over the course of the next several days, pieces of puzzles were put together and handed to the public, bit by bit. I was “stranded” in New York until that Friday, but was incredibly lucky to be with my parents at this time of national and personal turmoil.

Of course, this day will always conjure many intense and conflicting emotions. For me, disgust and anger continue to plague my psyche, pointed most directly at my own inability to work towards peace and resolution. Compassion and sadness, too, for the people that lost loved ones that day and all of us who continue to lose felllow human lives due to this senseless, greed driven war.

Cleaning house starts at home, and I am continuously astounded at my typically American ability to sit idly by as a spectator of the tragic real-life play that unfolds here and abroad. The play involving Shakesparean-like but real characters in the form of our country’s leader, his advisors, and the corporate and privately held interests that fund this war machine. To watch the second and third and continuing acts, which compound themselves into such abhorrent realities that they are nearly impossible to believe, without demanding a change of course is irresponsible, at best.

I search for the answers to these enormous, larger than life issues. A huge part of me envisions moving to a country that doesn’t wage war, like our more peaceful sister to the North named Canada. Or perhaps explore the new democracy in Chile, buy some farm land and old abondoned house that needs fixing, grow grapes, drink wine, and have conversations with other expats dreaming of necessary revolutions. But then, I would simply be changing seats at the same play, likely less able to create systemic change; or missing out on becoming at least a donor for next season’s lineup.

In working towards resolutions, even if only locally, each act, however minute, can lead towards cleansing our troubled souls. I am not sure how these steps can be taken, but I know that if I refuse to involve myself somehow in the solution, I am as guilty as the decision makers. I am as guilty as the loathsome, fearful individuals everywhere that stand, shouting, “Encore! Encore!”

Continuing to seek the truth and express my views from a place of love and compassion is a good start, I suppose. Conscientiously choosing to be a part of the greater good, in work and in play, is also necessary to add value and meaning to my tiny contributions. I wonder if millions of people coming together, taking to the streets, and demanding a different, more peaceful and economically just society would make a difference anymore. I guess there is but one way to find out.

I just love Dennis Kucinich. Maybe part of it is because he is familiar to me. I have heard his name since I was little, circa the 1970’s, as a kid in Cleveland Heights. But I think it is more than that. To hear a person running for president speak his truth like he does, not fearful of how his words will “play out politically”, not always strategizing every word for the corporate interests that he will (not) be serving once in the White House – these are the things I love about him. He is a peaceful warrior with a sense of humor. And his message, of course, makes perfect sense.

I know he is little and his suit’s don’t fit, but isn’t that better than the tailored suit-wearing clowns we turn to time and time again to lead this country? I think so.

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