It is complicated to maintain peace within while being overly active outside. The more I am active outside, the more I need to take time out to restore the balance within. If activism is peaceful and within fields of humanitarian help, charity or education, it is easier to remain calm. Some time ago I already wrote a blog post on that. More agitating is working actively against injustice and stepping into conflict situations in order to lessen someones suffering.
Expanding city and expanding greed
Lately I have become a passionate advocate for a green island that is a place for allotment gardens with over a century old history. As the greed, expansion and economy of the city grows, it is planned to introduce traffic, roads, bridges and skyscrapers there. It is the fate of many allotment gardens not only in this country, also elsewhere. I could regain my calm if only I let the whole idea that something like gardens need to exist in the center of the city, but I feel like we need some fresh air and peace that they provide.
I never thought that an intercontinental marriage would teach me so much about power, empathy and boundaries that we invent. But here we are. Five years down the road – learning a lesson that love, inclusion and empathy is a choice. We have different cultural backgrounds and we are from societies that are governed by powerful structures. This situation opened my eyes and showed how small each of us is. I have seen the strength of traditions, history and bureaucracy. Despite that, this union helped me to see that we are interconnected through the web of love. And we can choose to be bigger within us and reach as many human beings as wide open our hearts become.
As horizontal sun beams exposed the veins of leaves and turned them into miniature translucent maps full of tiny forking paths that invited to the unknown yet welcoming and warm world of yellow shades, it was already weeks past the autumn equinox far up in North. Illusory warmth of the Indian-summer was about to leave us unprepared for the dead, cold months ahead.
Our steps softly sunk into fallen foliage. The medieval castle up the hill was unreachable and covered in shallow mist. Moments ago, we ashed a joint under a majestic ash tree, the axis mundi of our kin, where my grandfather’s ashes scattered years ago and now perhaps soaked up by the roots of this giant tree of trees or woven into humble petals of purple anemones growing in its generous shade. We were lost in our own thoughts as we walked, and the only sounds were rustling leaves and murmuring river.
I thought about my grandmother who had died years before my grandfather and had chosen the more traditional burial mode according to local trends in this century and was resting in peace at an unambitious rural graveyard among agricultural fields some three kilometers North East from the ash tree. It happened to be an area of most fertile soil and a body without a coffin buried six feet deep would have decomposed fairly soon, there might have been only a skeleton left by now. But we had a long history of burials in coffins that adds both veneration and time to our last rite of passage. So the molecules and the star-dust might still be trapped inside a neatly carved coffin as I was raking the leaves six feet above it some ten years later. Continue reading “Autumn retreat: on ancestry, death and love”