I can’t imagine that there is a civilized soul on this earth not touched by the terrifying events in Paris last week, and by Friday’s events in Mali.
Neither can I imagine the pain and sorrow felt by those who have lost their friends and family. Nor the horror of the thought of them being cold bloodedly executed in that dance hall, or being mowed down while enjoying a glass of wine on the sidewalk.
It reminds me all too soberly of the friend who was killed by an IRA bomb in Harrods back in the 70’s while shopping. Having no choice, many of us have been touched by the terrorist acts throughout the world. My sister nearly got shot by the police for innocently running for a bus in London, in the 1970’s, when the IRA were calculatingly planting bombs in garbage cans and mail boxes, and blowing up cars in busy high streets all over London.
My daughter Charlotte remembers her young French friend, Francois Xavier Prévost, who attended UNT in Denton, Texas in fall 2007, and was regrettably killed at the Bataclan theater that terrifying night last week.
As the flames and smoke of anger and outrage die down, and the mists of numbness and sorrow start to clear, we are left with a feeling of emptiness and mournful resolution that something must change; something very fundamental in our lives, in order to stop terrorism.
More bombings are not really the answer. Bombs kill indiscriminately. The seeds of terrorism remain buried often in hiding, left to grow among healthy communities until the time is ripe, and then they will strike.
Nationalism can contribute to breeding hate for other countries and cultures.
“When talking about nationalism and patriotism, one cannot avoid the famous quotation by George Orwell, who said that nationalism is ‘the worst enemy of peace’. According to him, nationalism is a feeling that one’s country is superior to another in all respects, while patriotism is merely a feeling of admiration for a way of life. These concepts show that patriotism is passive by nature and nationalism can be a little aggressive.
Patriotism is based on affection and nationalism is rooted in rivalry and resentment. One can say that nationalism is militant by nature and patriotism is based on peace.”
From Difference between Nationalism and Patriotism www.Difference between.net
“This Fanaticism is what feeds terrorism. And this is precisely why Muslims must play an active role in opposing hate sermons and incitement to terrorism and extremism in their mosques. “
( Otto Schily)
The process of radicalization is indoctrination. Both ISIS and Boko Haram use the most unthinkable tactics to brainwash children from a very early age to hate and to use weapons to kill. ISIS, Boko Haram and AL Qaeda have strapped children and women with explosive vests, and sent them into market crowds to detonate. These children and women have been tortured, violated and threatened, and surely feared being killed if they did not do as they were instructed, maybe only praying for a quick end to their own suffering; maybe not even knowing what these vests would do to them and others.
As a Mother and a woman, I cannot comprehend the mindset, or condone the kind of brainwashing and indoctrination it must take to raise an army of 8 year old children. Are we living in the ages of The Hunger Games? Do we raise children to think that they must risk their own sacrifice for the good of the cause?
I firmly believe that if women had a greater voice in the world, the world would be a very different place. (Not that there haven't been radicalized women, who have blown themselves up, killing the masses around them; but there are many fewer women than men who are responsible for this kind of "ideology" and warfare.)
Neither am I making an anti-man statement. I just believe that there are so many dis-empowered women out there in the world, that the playing ground would be very different if they found their power, and had more global influence.
Last week, my sister Bridget Cousins introduced me to an American song, written by Alfred Bryan and Al Pianadosi in 1915, written during the pacifist movement before World War One . A Hundred years after the American anti-war song became a popular hit, it is being sung again — only this time in Israel, by Arab and Jewish mothers who have had their fill of violent conflict. The group is called Shirana, and their director, Mika Danny chose the song with a new focus on the chorus:
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier,
I brought him up to be my pride and joy,
Who dares to put a musket on his shoulder,
to shoot some other mother’s darling boy?
Let nations arbitrate their future troubles,
It’s time to lay the sword and gun away,
There’d be no war today,
If mothers all would say,
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier.
It is really worth a listen, so I have included the link to You tube:-
https://youtu.be/0v66ttbihh0 Shirana choir
The original song lyrics were as follows :
Ten million soldiers to the war have gone,
Who may never return again.
Ten million mother's hearts must break
For the ones who died in vain.
Head bowed down in sorrow
In her lonely years,
I heard a mother murmur thru' her tears:
Chorus
I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier,
I brought him up to be my pride and joy.
Who dares to place a musket on his shoulder,
To shoot some other mother's darling boy?
Let nations arbitrate their future troubles,
It's time to lay the sword and gun away.
There'd be no war today,
If mothers all would say,
"I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier."
What victory can cheer a mother's heart,
When she looks at her blighted home?
What victory can bring her back
All she cared to call her own?
Let each mother answer
In the years to be,
Remember that my boy belongs to me!
______________________________________________________________
Terrorism came to our own doorstep in America on 9/11 at the world trade center. It was not the first incident, but it became a pivotal turning point for many, and a catalyst for an outpouring of poetry and art. People were able to express themselves though poetry, where they were unable in other ways. Poetry allows an expression of heart where other forms of writing cannot, exposing the soft underbelly, and raw articulation of feelings.
“The events of 9/11 occasioned a tremendous outpouring of poetry; people in New York taped poems on windows, pasted them on posts, and shared them by hand. In Curtis Fox’s words, “poetry was suddenly everywhere in the city.” Outside the immediate radius of what became known as “ground zero,” aided by email, list-serves, websites, and blogs, thousands of people also shared poems they loved, and poems they had written. By February, 2002, over 25,000 poems written in response to 9/11 had been published on poems.com alone. Three years later, the number of poems there had more than doubled.”
From Beyond Grief and Grievane, by Philip Meteres
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Over the rubble of the World Trade Center
The grand sad unimaginable confusion of souls
Rose from towers mangled steel--to afterlives all--
All eyes drawn to that vacuum in the sky's next move
Where the ghost dance of Bodhisattva firemen
& holy martyrs of terror--holy martyrs lost &
Missing, a great far reaching cry spreading wild
Across the planet--the crying unity of undying pain--
Excerpt from Ghost Dance, by Jim Cohn
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I could tell you what it was like to be there -
the sky black with bodies - humanity colluding with gravity -
people jumping in pairs - linked lives spent working together
in towers so tall it must have felt like heaven to sit at a desk
and watch the city transform with the light of the seasons -
the moment sealed windows were liberated with office furniture,
the moment of shattered glass
when doomed colleagues linked hands and decided to jump –
Excerpt from September Eleventh
By Penny Cagan
____________________________________________________________________
Fanaticism maddening the flames,
Its once imposing deities abscise,
As the faceless antagonist proclaims:
A consummation sweet but unfulfilled,
A penetrative burst without regret,
A zealous passion never to be stilled,
An earthly instinct powerful, and yet –
This bitter loathing blowing from the East,
Curtailed but could not kill the feisty beast.
From Silence (over Manhatten )
By Paula Bardell
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of my own poems, Lullaby Baby, sprang from an idea that I had about a Muslim woman singing to her son, hoping that he will not become radicalized. It is a song of change, and of subtle rebellion. I sing it in my audio book, The Moon of Compassion, but you can read it here..
Lullaby baby
How I love thee little son
Sweetly dreaming of a gun
to rid the world of sin and strife
Gently rocking for your life
Things are changing little son
Sisters rising one by one
See them waking
stronger still
See them breathing
Power and Will
Tables turning
Wise ones learning
Father’s eyes are prying open
Seeing, hearing prayers unspoken
Rigid thoughts are smashed
and broken
Come to me my darling son
Count our blessings
one by one
No more vestal virgins waiting
No more suicide or hating
Sweetly rock you
rock you rock you
Feel my bosom's rise
unlock you
Shed the chains of long tradition
Feed your soul and intuition
Recognize your sisters all
Let the bonds of Dogma fall
Embrace the dawn
of Woman's call
How I love thee little son
Men are changing
one by one
See them running
Come come come !
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Finally, I would like to offer my most sincere condolences to those who lost loved ones in Paris and Mali last week.
I pray that you will find some peace in your hearts in order to bear this terrible pain.
Know that the world grieves with you, and that somehow, someday, there will be a world in which Human life becomes sacred over all else, and we shall live in peace as one human race.
Neither can I imagine the pain and sorrow felt by those who have lost their friends and family. Nor the horror of the thought of them being cold bloodedly executed in that dance hall, or being mowed down while enjoying a glass of wine on the sidewalk.
It reminds me all too soberly of the friend who was killed by an IRA bomb in Harrods back in the 70’s while shopping. Having no choice, many of us have been touched by the terrorist acts throughout the world. My sister nearly got shot by the police for innocently running for a bus in London, in the 1970’s, when the IRA were calculatingly planting bombs in garbage cans and mail boxes, and blowing up cars in busy high streets all over London.
My daughter Charlotte remembers her young French friend, Francois Xavier Prévost, who attended UNT in Denton, Texas in fall 2007, and was regrettably killed at the Bataclan theater that terrifying night last week.
As the flames and smoke of anger and outrage die down, and the mists of numbness and sorrow start to clear, we are left with a feeling of emptiness and mournful resolution that something must change; something very fundamental in our lives, in order to stop terrorism.
More bombings are not really the answer. Bombs kill indiscriminately. The seeds of terrorism remain buried often in hiding, left to grow among healthy communities until the time is ripe, and then they will strike.
Nationalism can contribute to breeding hate for other countries and cultures.
“When talking about nationalism and patriotism, one cannot avoid the famous quotation by George Orwell, who said that nationalism is ‘the worst enemy of peace’. According to him, nationalism is a feeling that one’s country is superior to another in all respects, while patriotism is merely a feeling of admiration for a way of life. These concepts show that patriotism is passive by nature and nationalism can be a little aggressive.
Patriotism is based on affection and nationalism is rooted in rivalry and resentment. One can say that nationalism is militant by nature and patriotism is based on peace.”
From Difference between Nationalism and Patriotism www.Difference between.net
“This Fanaticism is what feeds terrorism. And this is precisely why Muslims must play an active role in opposing hate sermons and incitement to terrorism and extremism in their mosques. “
( Otto Schily)
The process of radicalization is indoctrination. Both ISIS and Boko Haram use the most unthinkable tactics to brainwash children from a very early age to hate and to use weapons to kill. ISIS, Boko Haram and AL Qaeda have strapped children and women with explosive vests, and sent them into market crowds to detonate. These children and women have been tortured, violated and threatened, and surely feared being killed if they did not do as they were instructed, maybe only praying for a quick end to their own suffering; maybe not even knowing what these vests would do to them and others.
As a Mother and a woman, I cannot comprehend the mindset, or condone the kind of brainwashing and indoctrination it must take to raise an army of 8 year old children. Are we living in the ages of The Hunger Games? Do we raise children to think that they must risk their own sacrifice for the good of the cause?
I firmly believe that if women had a greater voice in the world, the world would be a very different place. (Not that there haven't been radicalized women, who have blown themselves up, killing the masses around them; but there are many fewer women than men who are responsible for this kind of "ideology" and warfare.)
Neither am I making an anti-man statement. I just believe that there are so many dis-empowered women out there in the world, that the playing ground would be very different if they found their power, and had more global influence.
Last week, my sister Bridget Cousins introduced me to an American song, written by Alfred Bryan and Al Pianadosi in 1915, written during the pacifist movement before World War One . A Hundred years after the American anti-war song became a popular hit, it is being sung again — only this time in Israel, by Arab and Jewish mothers who have had their fill of violent conflict. The group is called Shirana, and their director, Mika Danny chose the song with a new focus on the chorus:
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier,
I brought him up to be my pride and joy,
Who dares to put a musket on his shoulder,
to shoot some other mother’s darling boy?
Let nations arbitrate their future troubles,
It’s time to lay the sword and gun away,
There’d be no war today,
If mothers all would say,
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier.
It is really worth a listen, so I have included the link to You tube:-
https://youtu.be/0v66ttbihh0 Shirana choir
The original song lyrics were as follows :
Ten million soldiers to the war have gone,
Who may never return again.
Ten million mother's hearts must break
For the ones who died in vain.
Head bowed down in sorrow
In her lonely years,
I heard a mother murmur thru' her tears:
Chorus
I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier,
I brought him up to be my pride and joy.
Who dares to place a musket on his shoulder,
To shoot some other mother's darling boy?
Let nations arbitrate their future troubles,
It's time to lay the sword and gun away.
There'd be no war today,
If mothers all would say,
"I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier."
What victory can cheer a mother's heart,
When she looks at her blighted home?
What victory can bring her back
All she cared to call her own?
Let each mother answer
In the years to be,
Remember that my boy belongs to me!
______________________________________________________________
Terrorism came to our own doorstep in America on 9/11 at the world trade center. It was not the first incident, but it became a pivotal turning point for many, and a catalyst for an outpouring of poetry and art. People were able to express themselves though poetry, where they were unable in other ways. Poetry allows an expression of heart where other forms of writing cannot, exposing the soft underbelly, and raw articulation of feelings.
“The events of 9/11 occasioned a tremendous outpouring of poetry; people in New York taped poems on windows, pasted them on posts, and shared them by hand. In Curtis Fox’s words, “poetry was suddenly everywhere in the city.” Outside the immediate radius of what became known as “ground zero,” aided by email, list-serves, websites, and blogs, thousands of people also shared poems they loved, and poems they had written. By February, 2002, over 25,000 poems written in response to 9/11 had been published on poems.com alone. Three years later, the number of poems there had more than doubled.”
From Beyond Grief and Grievane, by Philip Meteres
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Over the rubble of the World Trade Center
The grand sad unimaginable confusion of souls
Rose from towers mangled steel--to afterlives all--
All eyes drawn to that vacuum in the sky's next move
Where the ghost dance of Bodhisattva firemen
& holy martyrs of terror--holy martyrs lost &
Missing, a great far reaching cry spreading wild
Across the planet--the crying unity of undying pain--
Excerpt from Ghost Dance, by Jim Cohn
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I could tell you what it was like to be there -
the sky black with bodies - humanity colluding with gravity -
people jumping in pairs - linked lives spent working together
in towers so tall it must have felt like heaven to sit at a desk
and watch the city transform with the light of the seasons -
the moment sealed windows were liberated with office furniture,
the moment of shattered glass
when doomed colleagues linked hands and decided to jump –
Excerpt from September Eleventh
By Penny Cagan
____________________________________________________________________
Fanaticism maddening the flames,
Its once imposing deities abscise,
As the faceless antagonist proclaims:
A consummation sweet but unfulfilled,
A penetrative burst without regret,
A zealous passion never to be stilled,
An earthly instinct powerful, and yet –
This bitter loathing blowing from the East,
Curtailed but could not kill the feisty beast.
From Silence (over Manhatten )
By Paula Bardell
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of my own poems, Lullaby Baby, sprang from an idea that I had about a Muslim woman singing to her son, hoping that he will not become radicalized. It is a song of change, and of subtle rebellion. I sing it in my audio book, The Moon of Compassion, but you can read it here..
Lullaby baby
How I love thee little son
Sweetly dreaming of a gun
to rid the world of sin and strife
Gently rocking for your life
Things are changing little son
Sisters rising one by one
See them waking
stronger still
See them breathing
Power and Will
Tables turning
Wise ones learning
Father’s eyes are prying open
Seeing, hearing prayers unspoken
Rigid thoughts are smashed
and broken
Come to me my darling son
Count our blessings
one by one
No more vestal virgins waiting
No more suicide or hating
Sweetly rock you
rock you rock you
Feel my bosom's rise
unlock you
Shed the chains of long tradition
Feed your soul and intuition
Recognize your sisters all
Let the bonds of Dogma fall
Embrace the dawn
of Woman's call
How I love thee little son
Men are changing
one by one
See them running
Come come come !
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Finally, I would like to offer my most sincere condolences to those who lost loved ones in Paris and Mali last week.
I pray that you will find some peace in your hearts in order to bear this terrible pain.
Know that the world grieves with you, and that somehow, someday, there will be a world in which Human life becomes sacred over all else, and we shall live in peace as one human race.
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