There are certain topics that I approach cautiously, seeking a better understanding of the energy that compels me to write. For instance, anger and grief can fuel a creative process, yet they may also signify my attempt to release these emotions without first processing them privately. For this reason, I've been relatively silent on the events unfolding in Gaza, Ukraine, and numerous other world conflicts that lack the international attention they warrant.
Many of us have been exposed to distressing images from the Gaza war, whether through social media uploads or nightly news. The events of 7th October and the ensuing conflict left me, and you, deeply affected. Witnessing the brutality from both sides brought tears to my eyes. Throughout the war, I've felt a range of emotions: anger, rage, grief, despair, and at times, even apathy. Admitting to feelings of apathy has been particularly challenging. The magnitude of destruction and loss of life is overwhelming, causing a numbing effect as I observe the suffering of innocent civilians through my phone screen. I've experienced despair towards our leaders and the ineffectiveness of institutions established after World War II to prevent such atrocities from recurring. Anger and rage have arisen towards the profit-driven war industry and appalling methods of warfare employed by Israel, with support from Western nations, including Australia. The silence of some Islamic countries, despite their considerable economic power, is deafening.
War induces a trance-like state fuelled by collective primal fear, limiting our perspective through the lens of cortisol and easily manipulated by those in power. The trauma of our ancestors lingers within us, the fear it provokes, drives our species toward violence. Although war energy is inherent to this world, it contradicts our true essence. Our species' lower consciousness is rooted in tribalism, division, and fear, while our higher consciousness transcends separation, fostering unity and wholeness through love. I genuinely believe that our species is on a path toward higher forms of consciousness, shedding outdated patterns of the lizard brain and our dysfunctional society. I wouldn’t be engaged in this work if I didn’t hold this belief.
The turmoil of this world is not all pervasive. Many of us, like myself, are privileged to have the capacity to choose where to direct our attention. Ignoring the world's suffering amounts to a disconnection from the collective consciousness of humanity. What exists within others can also manifest within ourselves under different circumstances. Thus, it's crucial to acknowledge, observe, and feel what arises within us in response to the world’s pain. Through conscious engagement, we can be inspired to alleviate suffering and contribute to the multi-generational task of healing.
However, when our nervous systems are overwhelmed and our capacity to engage with the world’s pain is limited, it's essential to recognise the importance of making our world smaller. In such instances, reconnecting with nature, ourselves, and the beauty of the world is paramount. Whenever I feel overwhelmed, I simply shift my focus to nature – connecting with and appreciating the beauty of trees, gardens, forests, rivers, mountains, and skies. As I do, my breath, constricted with fear, softens and expands. I return home to my body and to the present moment. Then, once you’re feeling resourceful again, gentle re-engagement with the world’s pain can be an option. From that state of being, you can hold space for suffering. As the great poet Rumi once said, the cure for the pain is in the pain. This wisdom can be applied to our personal self and our collective human experience.
