Pearls of Wisdom
When we sit together, we practice resting into our experience.
We practice sharing, and we practice listening.
In these ways, may we become skillful.
Pleiades Star Cluster, watercolour and digital painting for Pleiades Theatre’s video interviews with playwrites, Pleiades Parler.
© Rami Schandall 2021
Last week, I met in satsang with one of my teachers for a monthly gathering of yogis. We study yoga philosophy in its context — alert to the philosophical lineages the texts are written within — and apply them to our lived experience. We shared the heaviness in our hearts as we respond to the revelation in Kamloops; our grief, rage, overwhelm, and uncertainty about “what to do,” and ways of understanding what has happened here.
Out of this, for me, came two things. First, I observe that I begin to feel a little bit better when I can share some of what I know about indigenous history and culture, because I have been studying and carrying this information for a long time. It is a relief to point to the strong and inspiring work being done by indigenous elders and youth, particularly in B.C. where I am most attuned, and their legal and activist allies. There are practical ways to offer support — toward healing, and toward ending the exploitation of unceded territory without prior and informed consent. I commit to sharing resources for both.
I made an announcement in my Saturday yoga class, and heard myself describing ways to act, maybe not to dive right into the trauma, but to be proactive. Then I read an interview with Eddy Charlie, who is a survivor of “the Alcatraz of the North,” a residential school on Kuper Island near Chemainus, B.C.
“I just want people to sit, hear the story about residential school, don't try to respond...Don't try to see what can [you] do. We want people to hear this story for us. It's not a fairy tale. It's not something from one of the Stephen King novels. This truly, really happened to 150,000 children.”
Which led to my second observation: the reflex to DO rather than BE when faced with suffering. It is skillful to bear witness, without jumping into distracting action; to listen, without dissociation, or minimizing, or denial; to return to presence when faced with such pain. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission attempted to create such a listening space. Some survivors express great dismay that there were so few settlers attending, when they finally said in public what had haunted them their whole lives. These were missed opportunities. We are presented with another opportunity now.
I am still most moved to share brilliant examples of indigenous leadership, and share resources that help us respect each other more. I continue to learn how to gauge when I need to pause, take a break from listening and research. We need kindness here, and again, discernment. (UBC's Residential School History & Dialogue Centre provides a Wellness & Support page for people accessing their archive). We do need to hear enough to truly grasp how grotesque is the source of this living trauma — to uncover how it could go on for so long, and how CURRENT the impact is — so we can stop doing the things that perpetuate that legacy.
Can we recognize the painful grit that will yield our pearls of wisdom? Our soft oyster flesh knows what to do. Ways forward become clearer with deep, honest reckoning in the light of day. As I wrote last week, our sustained attention and respect are needed — we have levers of power, to hold political feet to the fire. And none of us have to carry the work or the burden alone.
