Journeys and Star Gazing

Below is something I wrote a some years ago after bumping into a friend I hadn’t seen for a long time. The feelings expressed, I think, are just as relevant today as they were then, when I, along with others, was preparing for the Woomera Action in Easter, 2002 with Hope Caravan. 

ABC iView (Australia) has a series called “I Was Actually There” which includes an episode on Woomera, 2002.

So I thought I’d rewrite this earlier post for today.

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“Serenity and Struggle: A Tale of Inner Peace vs. Outer Chaos”

When I saw him yesterday, he seemed to radiate a serene contentment. Sitting in a half lotus position on his sofa, his bare feet intertwined, he exuded tranquility. The mandala tattoo just above his ankle harmonized perfectly with the diamond-shaped crystal hanging from his neck. We shared some green tea, and he smiled gently as he closed the book he was reading.

He was an old friend, someone I hadn’t seen in ages. In the time apart, our paths had diverged dramatically. He had discovered spiritual bliss, while I continued to grapple with finding peace. He spoke of inner tranquility, whereas I confessed to enduring inner turmoil. His spiritual battles were over; mine felt never-ending.

“You’re caught in duality,” he remarked with a seemingly humble smile. “You think you can change the world, but the only thing you can truly change is yourself.”

He was referring to my plea for him to join me in action—to support those who are voiceless and powerless. I had invited him to participate in the Festival of Freedoms at Woomera during Easter 2002, to stand up for the refugees trapped in Australia’s detention centers.

I responded, “But what if my sense of self extends beyond my physical body? What if it encompasses the whole planet? When I witness suffering and injustice, it feels as though it’s happening within me.”

He laughed, “Well, in that case, your ego is bigger than mine!”

Adjusting his posture, he let his leg fall straight over the side of the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The crystal around his neck swayed like a pendulum between us. Incense smoke spiraled upwards from the joss stick burning on the coffee table.

I could see his point but it didn’t sit right with me. “Ego, big or small, will always be there. Tell me, what would you do if your neighbor’s house was burning down? Would you ignore it because your house is fine?”

“I would help extinguish the fire immediately. But for me, the plight of refugees and distant wars are beyond my control. I seek inner peace through meditation, believing it will ultimately benefit the world more than any protest or action. True change begins within. Your protests add more noise to the chaos. By creating an oasis of silence and peace within, you contribute more profoundly than by facing the razor wire of the camps. Change yourself—that’s all you need to do.”

He sipped his tea and stared intently at me, or perhaps at the space between my eyes—the so-called third eye. I couldn’t tell, but his gaze carried an intensity, as if he was trying to shift my perspective with his energy. He was kidding himself if he thought he could.

Yes, our paths had diverged. While I understood the importance of inner work and its impact on the outer world, I couldn’t accept withdrawing into personal peace while others suffered. Can one carry the inner “oasis of silence” into the world’s places of sorrow and injustice, to share that peace? I wondered.