March
28, 2003
Walking
For Peace
By Jackilynn Wood
'05
|
Paul
Schnaittacher |
In early November,
two women came together with an idea. The idea was an interfaith
walk for peace across the state of Massachusetts. The two women,
Andrea Ayvazian, Dean of Religious Life at Mount Holyoke College,
and Sister Clare Carter, a Buddhist nun at the Leverett Peace
Pagoda, envisioned a journey that would reach across borders,
and become a way for women of faith to physically, visibly, spiritually
and nonviolently bear witness to their understanding of peace.
The idea became a reality on March 14, 2003, when approximately
30 students, faculty and staff from Mount Holyoke College and
the surrounding community left the gates of the college and began
a 100 mile, week-long walk from South Hadley ot Boston.
It is much easier said than done to maintain a journal when one
sets off on a journey. Suddenly, you are living the events you
want to remember, and are caught in the struggle of trying to
live in the moment, and be constantly documenting the moments
at the same time. The following are my journal entries combined
with the insights and memories that developed after I had a few
days to process the journey, which in many ways, has only just
begun.
Day 1, March 14th: South Hadley to Belchertown—10
miles
After a beautiful and slightly stressful sendoff, we finally began
this walk to Boston. I was in the middle of the line, but could
clearly hear Sister Clare's chanting and drumming. She chants
everywhere she goes, and the clarity of her voice cut right through
all of the other chatter. Na Mu Nyo Ho Ren Ge Kyo. An untranslatable
prayer for peace. The drumming felt like the hearbeat of the world.
It is a wounded heart that is beating with fear at the prospect
of war in Iraq. But it is strong. And I will keep walking.
Day 2, March 15th: Belchertown through Ware to West Brookfield—17.3
miles
The generous hospitality we have encountered is simply amazing.
It is such a humbling experience to travel as guests, and to openly
receive such warmth. People forget so easily the compassion of
others. As I settled in to the rhythm of walking today, I was
able to relax a little, and experience the landscape around me.
At one point, we stood on the top of a ridge, and could see the
next ridge up ahead—tomorrow's walk. I love walking.
It allows for such an intimate connection with the land. The earth,
people, roads, smells, sky, horses, shouts and waves all become
more tangible, more accesible, more real. There is limitless time
to be with them, not just to pass them.
This afternoon we passed a farm, with four or five horses out
on the pasture near the road. As we passed, chanting and drumming,
all the horses simultaneously paused, looked up at us, and slowly
walked over to the fence. They stood mesmerized and fully present
as we walked by. It was such a beautiful, beautiful moment. Even
if I could have captured it on film, it wouldn't have captured
the stillness and calm in their bodies, and the compassion in
their eyes. It was as if they were speaking straight from their
hearts as we passed: Yes. There is another way. Another world
is possible.
Day 3, March
16th: West Brookfield to Spencer—10 miles
Long, long day. On the brink of war. Bush says we're at
the end of diplomacy. Too exhausted to weep.
Day 4, March
17th: Spencer through Worcester to Grafton—13.2 miles
Just when you think you're at your limit, the world pushes
you off the edge, and you are left to cope. Today was a turning
point, I think, and a hard one. The stark difference of this economically
depressed urban area with what we have walked through previously
was hard for many of us. If Bush were to spend a drop of the billions
he is going to spend on this unjust war in Iraq on Worcester instead,
what a difference it would make. Poverty becomes so much more
real when you walk six hours through it. Yet, I know that what
we walked through today is only scratching the surface of the
reality these people live in every day. And even though poverty
cannot be compared, I know that these people are lucky. They have
a roof over their heads, and at least something to eat. They might
even have hope. So many don't.
I am finally feeling comfortable in my body. My feet are sore,
but in a good way. This is what I am meant to do. And, it was
unbelievable warm. Spring is flexing her muscles.
Even after all this writing, there is still no way I can really
convey all that has happened, all that I'm feeling—and
there are so many thoughts that have gone through my head throughout
the day that I wanted to remember but can't. But the image
of all the houses is still imprinted in my mind. So many unemployed
people at home, watching us from their open windows as we walk
past. Sometimes my privileged life is too much for me. It's
not fair that I am rich enough to take a week off to walk for
peace, without having to worry about whether I will be able to
have enough to eat and a job when I return.
Day 5, March 18th: Grafton to Framingham—15.3 miles
The contrast between Worcester and Grafton slapped us all in the
face today. In a matter of minutes, we were transferred from urban
poverty to nauseatingly rich bedroom communities, with huge, newly
built pastel-colored houses. Not a person in sight—probably
all at work in Boston. I wanted to weep. My rage burned inside,
and only the walking made it bearable.
A poignant experience…about
mid morning we needed a bathroom break, and so we stopped at a
private daycare center to ask if they would let us use their restrooms.
The owner told Andrea that she "totally disagreed"
with what we were doing, but graciously allowed us to use her
restrooms anyway. We were not allowed to interact with the children
at all as we went in. When we finished, Andrea made a phone call
on her cell phone, and the walkers loaded up on snacks. The woman
came out, visibly at her limits, and through almost clenched teeth
ordered us to get off her property. It was a moment I will never
forget. Even though we disagreed, she was present enough to acknowledge
our gratitude. May I do the same.
Full moon tonight. Several of us went out and sang under the moon.
This is the same moon that will shine over Iraq. Under this same
moon, Iraqi mothers will weep for their dead babies, and sing
the ones they have left to a fitful sleep. Under this moon, the
bombing is likely to begin. Under this moon, there is terror,
horror, fear, destruction, hate. And there is love, joy, calm,
beauty and hope. The ultimate paradox of life that all of it is
right now in the moment. The weeping mothers and the laughing
mothers. How can my heart be large enough to encompass it all?
Day 6, March
19th: Framingham to Newton—14.8 miles
Exhausted gained a deeper meaning tonight. Group issues arose.
And the bombing began. our energies are all over the place. Today
was a hard, hard day. For the first time since we began walking,
I really broke down sobbing. We visited the Peace Abbey in Sherbourne,
an interfaith memorial and retreat center for peace and nonviolence.
We blessed chains that were to be used in a nonviolent civil disobedience
action later in the week. And we all wept for the inevitable war.
I have not cried so hard in a long time. And yet, I felt like
I couldn't cry hard enough.
I'm feeling
deep sadness that our walk is nearing its end. How do I carry
this love, this peace, this community with me after we disperse?
This is what I want in life. A white male 20-something year old
hollered at us out his SUV window to get a life. It made me pause,
and think about what I really want my life to be. I have thrived
physically, emotionally and spiritually despite living out of
two backpacks, sleeping on the floor and having had two showers
in the past week. Can I be happy without all the trappings of
what is normally called "success" in this country?
I have felt such a deep sense of purpose this week. I am listening,
speaking and walking with intention, choosing with care all my
actions. I need to be able to continue this when the walk is over
on Friday.
Day 7, March
20th: Newton to Cambridge—7 miles
I realized today that for me, the walking is just beginning. I
will keep walking, even after this walk is officially over. I
don't have a choice. This is what I am called to do. I will
walk for myself. I will walk for the Iraqis. I will walk for the
American and British soldiers—especially the ones who won't
be coming back. I will walk for peace. I will walk for this earth,
the land, our nourishment. I will walk to gain clarity. I will
walk to share my vision. I will walk to meet others, and learn
their stories, and listen. I will walk for peace.
There were so many moments today, but the one that will stick
with me most is walking through Watertown, which has, as Andrea
says, "major Armenians". Andrea and her family are
Armenian, and along Mount Auburn street, we passed an Armenian
church. They had built a beautiful memorial to those killed in
the Armenian genocide of April 24, 1915. We gathered in a circle
around the memorial, and Andrea told us the story of her family.
She told us of the great wounds of the Armenian people—to
this day, the Turks deny that there was a genocide. We gazed up
through tears at the red, yellow and blue Armenian flag, as she
named her lost family members. The horrors of war came this much
closer to us as we collectively remembered the genocide that has
been denied for 88 years.
May we never forget.
Day 8, March 21st: Cambridge to Boston
Today the Mount Holyoke walkers were joined by the walkers from
the Leverett Peace Pagoda, who have been walking around the state
since February 16th. Together, we joined with others from the
Cambridge community, and walked from Harvard Square to the Government
Center Plaza in Boston. It was an affirming moment for me to see
the line of over 200 people of faith walking peacefully to Boston.
We are not alone. We are strong. We will make a difference. There
is no other option.
Na Mu Nyo Ho Ren Ge Kyo.
I am still walking.
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