During one of the most violent periods of human history, an island of Peace appeared. On Christmas Eve in 1914, German soldiers began to decorate their trenches with small candlelit Christmas trees and sing Christmas carols. Drawn out by curiosity and perhaps a respite from the misery, British soldiers proceeded forth into No-Man’s-Land under the cover of darkness to explore the unexpected scene. Once discovered by the Germans, rather than reverting to fear, a brief truce spontaneously emerged. Over a few days, conversations arose, songs were sung, gifts exchanged and meals shared. It was only after the generals caught wind of a break in hostility that these men were forced to once again bury their better natures.
This story, of peace and compassion arising amidst such pain and suffering, is a profound reminder of Thich Nhat Hanh’s teaching on human aggression and compassion, “When the seeds of happiness in you are watered, you will become happy. When the seed of anger in you is watered, you will become angry. The seeds that are watered frequently are those that will grow strong.” If the soldiers whose sole purpose was to kill the hated other could open to their innate compassion - if ever so brief, how about us? At a time in our country when we are so polarized along political and cultural divides, which seeds shall we water, today and tomorrow?
The Christmas Truce of 1914: the day the guns fell silent
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compassion, peace, thich naht hanh
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Everywhere I drive these days, heavy machinery is tearing up and reconstructing my route. The next time you are caught in one of these stop-and-go moments, watch how these machines are tearing up your way and laying down a new path, and realize how we recall a past event is quite similar. When we seek to recall a past event, imagine first seeing the big orange diamond sign of “Construction Zone Ahead.”
A study by NYU neuroscientist Joe LeDoux reveals that memories are not an unchanging snapshot, but a fresh new reconstruction in the moment. Each time we recall the event, we not only recombine the various bits of detail but also add shades of emotions, echoes of thoughts, and shifts of sensations from the present. Memories are as much colored by our present as our past.
How often are we limited in the present by a memory of past failure? When I consider tackling a particular task, my heart begins to race, sweat beads on my brow, and I am frozen in fear of failing again. Better to just give up and avoid than feel the pain of failure again. I become safe in my stagnant little cocoon of fear.
What if I could reconstruct that memory? Imagine now recalling the event, but this time as the memory arises, tearing up all its parts and reconstructing with a broader perspective. Maybe I did the best I could. Maybe conditions were beyond my control. Rather than laden the memory with more guilt and shame, maybe I could hold the memory in a more self-compassionate fashion.
In mindfulness, we learn to hold such past events as a mother holds a baby. Rather than harsh criticism, we offer a loving embrace. We hold our past without judgment, without striving; with patience, acceptance and curiosity. We construct a broader perspective of the past event. We discover lessons learned to apply in the present. We free ourselves from the past to arrive in the present, with knowledge and skills to move forward to a reimagined new future.
http://www.radiolab.org/2007/jun/07/eternal-sunshine-of-the-spotless-rat/
Tags:
compassion, memory
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