Hypothetical Non-Violence

Welcome to my Stream of Consciousness

We were flying over the Atlantic and I was listening to The Wide Wide Sea by Hampton Sides, which is an historic account of the British naval explorer, Captain Cook, and his world changing journeys. The book was on the New York Times best books of 2024 list, but it took me until now to get into it. Maybe because I wasn’t so keen to read about a white man going crazy as he attempted to conquer the world, but then again.

By the time my flight arrived in Spain, Captain Cook and his crew had spent months traveling thousands of miles to New Zealand in rat infested boats, and it was a strategic miracle his entire crew didn’t end up with scurvy. Reading this book while taking a direct overnight flight from Miami to Madrid really put into perspective how easily we can now travel the world. I had no real contact with the elements as we went from stuffy airport to muggy airport. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, and I’m not taking a cruise ship across the Atlantic just to feel the salty wind in my hair as I stand at the bow of a commercial ship.

I recently re-watched The Titanic. I’ve been working on a novel, and one of my writing teachers, Les Standiford, recommended I start the novel in present times with a narrator who can frame the story, which occurs in the 1940’s. He referenced The Titanic as a good model for me to work from, so one recent Saturday I asked my son if he would watch the beginning of the movie with me. About fifteen minutes in he said, this is really good. Yes, I had forgotten. Three hours later I was rushing to get ready for a friend’s birthday party.

It isn’t the crash of the Titanic that makes me want to avoid cruises. I think it’s the waterslides. Perhaps someday I’ll pack it all in, and convince my husband to sail the world with me. I’m an excellent navigator, and he is handy with tools. I like spontaneously embracing the unexpected, and he’s good at making sure there is plenty of food. However, neither of us know how to sail, so…

There are so many things I want to learn, like Spanish. Never have I wanted to know the romantic language more than on this trip I was just on to Spain, but I also want to read all the Substacks I subscribe to and every good book written in English, and this is remarkably time consuming.

In addition to reading The Wide Wide Sea, I also finished reading the book, Warhol’s Muses by Laurence Leamer, which is a drug induced account of what people will do for attention and fame. I couldn’t help but think of the way Warhol’s work, and the work of everyone in the Warhol Factory, was a precursor to social media. Perhaps reading about all the pandering for attention and calling it art was why I had a hard time posting about our vacation on social media. I also didn’t post because I was taking a much needed break from the tedious work of running a busy home, and meanwhile protests and wars and humanitarian nightmares.

Meanwhile, I was on the island of Ibiza, aka the island of the Sirens from Greek Mythology.

I have to tell you, it did feel like perhaps we thought we were there for a week, but by the time we returned to the mainland we would find ourselves in the year 2035. Time was going so slow; I meditated and imagined a more peaceful world by then.

After I finished the Warhol book, which made me miss New York, I booked a flight to the city, and I started reading Spitfire by Becky Aikman. This is a WWII story about the female pilots who ferried war planes from warehouses to British airfields, where they could then be flown into battle. It was particularly interesting to be on a leisurely vacation in Europe, reading about WWII, imagining nearby terrain as a battleground, and also reading the news, and thinking of all the people who suddenly find their homes and cities are war zones.

It made me think a lot about what it means to be a humanitarian, and that there are humanitarians who choose to go to the front lines, some who end up there by circumstance, as well as those of us who work more quietly from wherever we are.

After making a sandcastle boat on the beach one afternoon, my son asked me, if I could give up everything I know about all the sports I know in order to be exceptional in one sport, which sport would I choose?

I said, tennis.

Then I said, wait, would I have to give up all my knowledge about yoga too? Because I wouldn’t want to live without this information.

He said, no, why? Yoga isn’t a sport.

It’s true, yoga isn’t a sport, it’s a way of life. A way rooted in non-violence. The very first, most foundational principle of yoga is Ahimsa, do no harm.

That’s a much easier principle to follow in times of ease and places of peace.

In such times and places, a yogi can consider very nuanced ways in which they can reduce the mental or physical harm they cause on the world.

A yogi can retreat from violence and the pressures of the world in order to avoid it or to recover from it, but is this all the wisdom non-violence has to offer? Retreat?

No matter if I am doing yoga, playing a sport, sitting and writing, standing and watching, cooking for my family, or moving forward with purpose—whenever I can—I consider: how can I make the world a more peaceful place from right here?

On the yoga mat, I put myself in difficult positions and strive to maintain my integrity. In other sports, I figure out how to translate this. For example, when I am riding my bike, I feel all the places my body sinks into the bike. The points of contact at my pedals, seat and handlebars. If I just sink down into those places I end up tired and sore even after a short ride. The places of contact (feet, seat, hands) have to be the places I rise up out of. I have to redirect the force of gravity and consciously create upward currents in my body. I think this is the secret. This is the practice I have to continually translate to life. How do I press to pull? How do I move with integrity in all the various circumstances I find myself in? This is the subtle question I continually respond to and live into.

To be a yogi is to be a humanitarian. In some ways, I wonder if being a humanitarian is to sacrifice the history of a conflict in order to prioritize the dignity of a strangers heartbeat. It’s not for everyone, but it’s for me. There are as many ways to practice non-violence as there are humanitarians. Some more subtle acts of loving-kindness that I practice include: listening without prejudice within and outside my greater community; reading stories about people who have different backgrounds or perspectives so I can better meet all people with dignity and respect; consciously taking deep breaths when fear arises within me and around me.

I haven’t quite reached the end of The Wide Wide Sea yet. I’m at the part where Cook is becoming increasingly violent, and torturing islanders for small crimes he can’t even prove they committed. He is becoming increasingly controlling and his own crew is questioning his behavior especially as he becomes more violent with them. In his journals, Cook claims his motivations for violence are to keep the peace. The direct relationships between power, peace, and violence. Peace for who? Violence against who? I can understand militaristic logic in using strength to keep peace for one’s own group, or hopefully for the greater good, but I do not understand the spiritual logic.

It’s summer, and this is meant to be a time when we lift our heads from our hard work to find joy in the abundance of natural resources. Yet, the heat oppresses us, and so we find ways to cool off. It’s a time for reading good books, celebrating freedom, and being with friends. It’s a time to practice non-violence in whatever small or large ways we have the energy for.

With Prayers for Peace