Making Sense of Disaster
Unexpected death and disaster in our time has a global impact. The assassination of President Kennedy, the tragic death of Princess Diana, the devastation of 9/11 and the horrific recent bombings in London. Events that penetrate far beyond immediate family and friends, to cause a sense of global bereavement and mourning.
Although many remember little or none of the circumstances and the reaction over the assassination of President Kennedy, it is still recognised as perhaps the first event to create a mass outpouring of emotion over a single death. The death of Diana, Princess of Wales, created such a reaction that the streets of London almost came to a standstill and tears were shed by many who had paid little attention to her life. The call for her to be declared a ‘saint’ raised her to a level way beyond her living status and the ‘grieving process’ became a media experience recorded and transmitted throughout the world.
I vividly recall the day when the news broke and the shock and confusion that her death caused. During the following weeks I did a number of television and news broadcasts on the subject of death and disenfranchised grief. Previously, the subject of death, dying and bereavement had been of little interest to the media and it seemed to be left to those facing this inevitable journey to cope as best they could… During a radio phone in I was amazed at the number of callers and the range of their needs and experiences. The sad fact was that they needed the relief of a distant voice on a public airway to find solace, information or to share their experiences.
I believe we are much more open with the subject of death, but in the West we still flounder with our own natural reactions, and our ability to offer comfort to those experiencing death and dying.
The two most recent tragedies that have affected our countries include the deaths of individuals starting their working day. (As I write, the toll of the bodies killed and maimed is as yet, not complete... On September 11, 2001, I remember watching the news as it started live coverage of what was being suggested as a large blaze in a New York office block. Then, while watching office workers trying to escape from the building, a plane was seen flying into another block. Still, this was not immediately seen as a cause – it could easily be flying behind the building – until seconds later fire and smoke were signally the second impact. With commentators trying to make some sense of what was unfolding before the world’s eyes, live on television, we watched people throwing themselves from windows. The desperate efforts to escape of those who had one minute before been sipping their morning coffee and were next covered in smoke and confusion with seconds to death or survival.
On the 7th July this year, I had just completed the school run and had a few moments to spare before leaving to teach my first class of the day. I turned on the television news and saw live coverage of a London tube station with commuters escaping covered in blood, debris and soot. Their bloodied and blackened faces showed the confusion and shock that could almost be felt from the other side of the country through a TV screen. Again, commentators tried desperately to find the words to describe the devastation, unable or not allowed to speak the cause. Firstly, suspecting a power surge, it quickly became obvious when a nearby bus was also attacked that this was another bombing.
This, and all the other disasters that we can often view as they are happening, brings the images of death and disaster into our homes and our lives in a way that did not exist during the major wars. The reports of mobile phone calls to loved ones from victims about to die, films of the disaster and a commentaries from someone caught up in the event, make us all participators in the devastation and confusion.
After the event, the relationship with the victims, both the dead and the survivors continues. Their fate is our fate as we follow their path the recovery and commiserate with friends and relatives. This bonding is hard to break and in the case of Diana, the media seemed to find it hard to break the contact with coverage drifting on for weeks. Along with this, there is a feeling
of invasion as we try to tread the fine line of support and compassion and not fall into invasion of personal space.
Off course, we are better prepared to cope with tragedy and disaster and victims are offered counselling and the opportunity to access all that the twenty first century has to offer in the way of its knowledge of post traumatic stress disorder. But we seem to have left our ability to deal with each other on a human level and have created a professional service that replaces our ability to help each other on a personal level.
Tragedies such as those mentioned here are not only about the loss of human life, but signify the loss of so much more. Maybe our relationship with the victims is vicarious, but the loss of our vision and relationship with the world is very real. The aftermath of any of these tragedies is accompanied not just with the human suffering, as we watch the victims trying to cope and make sense of their experience, but also with the loss of the world that we have created.
The words that were so hard to find during the event suddenly come pouring forth with politicians and others trying desperately to find some course of action that will help recreate a shattered identity. By coincidence, or design, ex mayor of New York, Juliani was in London, and President Bush at the G8 Summit in Scotland on 7 July. Juliani’s reactions were given in television and radio broadcasts and concentrated on the human response of the people of London. Warm and encouraging he offered support and encouragement and praised Londoner’s for their calmness and efficiency. By contrast, the politicians united in their condemnation of the terrorist. Words such as ‘cowardly’ and ‘senseless’ and a declaration not to be ‘cowed’ by the terrorists suggested a war like reaction to an enemy that was not to be found, leading to a feeling of frustration and hopelessness in the voices of our elected leaders.
In the traumas that have been described here, it is not only loss of life that we are left to deal with. Those of us on the sidelines are also suffering other losses. The loss of security, loss of trust, loss of belief in society, loss of boundaries. Personal belief systems are challenged, in particular to right to freedom and a respect for others beliefs. Philosophical and spiritual beliefs are put to the test as we struggle to make sense of events. Personal reactions such as anger, guilt and a sense of powerlessness may be accompanied by feelings of grief and confusion.
These emotions may be easier to accept and understand if we see ourselves as a survivor rather than an onlooker. The guilt that accompanies a voyeur as we watch these events unfold is not switched off when the screen is turned off. Violent acts which we have witnessed are often outside our own personal reality and understanding. Beyond human comprehension and alien to our belief systems we are unable to find any way of putting them into a framework that will allow us to return to the beliefs and values that have supported our view of life.
Coping with survival involves conflict and a need to look within ourselves for an answer. The natural reactions to threat are revenge, anger and distrust. We may have met and fought these in our own lives and are shocked that they can be aroused by an external event. Anger is particularly hard to bear as it may bring a loss of faith and trust in a higher power and undermine all our spiritual beliefs.
Feelings of fear, vulnerability and hopelessness may also shake our beliefs as again, our acquaintance with these emotions has usually been related to events within our own experience.
So how do we start our own healing process and process these external events into our lives? I recently attended a meditation weekend at Ampleforth, in North Yorkshire. Amidst the glorious countryside and in the rain that usually plays a major part in the British summer, we gathered to listen to this man who continues to live in Zimbabwe despite the political instability and continuing atrocities. Asked how he managed to reconcile continuing to stay in a country that inflicts such suffering and violation on its people he was able to find purpose in his presence without ignoring the suffering.
In his book Diamond Mind, Rob Nairn explains that an attitude of acceptance involves being present with ‘what is there’.
‘We make discoveries about what is there, and then need to develop skills for working with the unknown and unwanted areas. The skills lie not in soap operas that feature people with ‘bad’ attitudes and what they have on others. There is a very big part of each one of us that we call bad attitude. That’s why these soap characters are so popular, because they play out our own unacknowledged bad attitude.’
Of course, what we are watching and hearing is not a soap opera but real life. What we are then hearing from others is their ‘attitude’. Their reasons, experiences and reactions infiltrate our minds with the authority that goes with the screen and the written word. Our confusion as we try to process all this information telling us how to react, feel and think and our commitment to our own beliefs which may be shaken to their foundations, leaves us trapped into reactivity.
Our own created personal identity which may be strongly influenced by our practise of yoga may lead us to question what we may see as a negative state of mind. We may blame ourselves for allowing the mind to enter into attitudes that we see as ‘unacceptable’ or we may even feel so that we have chosen the ‘wrong path’.
Meditation allows us to explore these feelings. The desire to develop an attitude of acceptance is often misinterpreted as being inactive. Meditation is an active exploration of the mind and an acceptance of all the surprises we may find there.. Nairn describes this as training ourselves to be present in the moment with ‘exactly what is there’.
‘For most people the big surprise is there is a bewildering stranger. One of the greatest strangers in the world is this one in the heart. We don’t know much about ourselves. When we start looking, we discover there is a great deal we don’t want to be with, don’t want to know about, don’t want to feel. Meditation reveals a paradoxical situation. We are travelling through life with a stranger who at some level is trying to communicate with us, yet we want to know only a very limited aspect of that communication.’
Our desire to relate with only the good part of ourselves, and develop those aspects which we attempt to cultivate as part of our own image of ourselves as ‘good’ people, is thrown by the challenge that external disaster raises. Through meditation we are able to accept and grow through these challenges, even reaching parts of the mind which may never have been revealed. They are there. They are real.
Grief holds the possibility of growth. How we view our world may have been shaken and our boundaries violated. We may need to review how we see the world and our place in it. We may find it difficult to trust those that we feel hold responsibility for our safety. These attitudes may be bought into our practise and undermine what may have been a haven unrelated to the real world. Our work now is to bring the outside in and make it part of our growth. Acceptance does not mean forgetting but letting go. Just as we need to yield and let go in our physical practise we also need to accept anything that arises in our mind. True mindfulness does not allow us to reject any thoughts and feelings but rather to accept that they are there and part of us.
The political need to react creates division and demands that choices are made. The headlines that follow any disaster are aimed at stimulating reaction. Acceptance is often misunderstood as approval and a lack of desire to change. Meditation helps us cultivate a mind that is able to accept the unacceptable and reconcile these external events with the need for clarity and composure in our own minds. This flexibility allows flame of the human spirit to survive, and through the living of our own lives avoid the rigidity and narrowness that creates the disasters and violence that inflicts our world.
The actions of the Yogi are neither white (good) nor black (bad); but the actions of others are three kinds: good, bad and mixed. (Patanjali. Bk.4.7.)
The cultivation and an understanding of Patanjali’s ethical disciplines ‘yamas’ can help us rebuild our faith. Evil is not new and we need to equip ourselves with ways of facing this within ourselves and in others. By pretending it does not exist we are open to the shock that accompanies its striking presence. In ahimsa it is believed that if we do wrong we should ask for justice and if the wrong is done by another, they should be forgiveness. This does not mean that a yogi does not oppose evil or wrongdoing. The evil and the act are what are wrong – the person should receive the forgiveness and the act should be fought and punished.
In abhaya there is freedom from fear, and in abhaya freedom from anger. Fear creates anger as we strive to hold on to all that we see as real. Fear of loss – livelihood, youth, possessions – leads to anger as we strive to ward off the ultimate fear, death. Without fear there is no anger and as we try to live within this guidance we are trying to create a life that allows the spirit to be free and without fear.
An acceptance of Patanjali’s words and the cultivation of own minds wisdom and flexibility through mindfulness will help the healing process as we try and find some meaning in the wake of this latest tragedy.
Published in Yoga Magazine www.yogamagazine.com
© Wendy Jacob July 2005
Unexpected death and disaster in our time has a global impact. The assassination of President Kennedy, the tragic death of Princess Diana, the devastation of 9/11 and the horrific recent bombings in London. Events that penetrate far beyond immediate family and friends, to cause a sense of global bereavement and mourning.
Although many remember little or none of the circumstances and the reaction over the assassination of President Kennedy, it is still recognised as perhaps the first event to create a mass outpouring of emotion over a single death. The death of Diana, Princess of Wales, created such a reaction that the streets of London almost came to a standstill and tears were shed by many who had paid little attention to her life. The call for her to be declared a ‘saint’ raised her to a level way beyond her living status and the ‘grieving process’ became a media experience recorded and transmitted throughout the world.
I vividly recall the day when the news broke and the shock and confusion that her death caused. During the following weeks I did a number of television and news broadcasts on the subject of death and disenfranchised grief. Previously, the subject of death, dying and bereavement had been of little interest to the media and it seemed to be left to those facing this inevitable journey to cope as best they could… During a radio phone in I was amazed at the number of callers and the range of their needs and experiences. The sad fact was that they needed the relief of a distant voice on a public airway to find solace, information or to share their experiences.
I believe we are much more open with the subject of death, but in the West we still flounder with our own natural reactions, and our ability to offer comfort to those experiencing death and dying.
The two most recent tragedies that have affected our countries include the deaths of individuals starting their working day. (As I write, the toll of the bodies killed and maimed is as yet, not complete... On September 11, 2001, I remember watching the news as it started live coverage of what was being suggested as a large blaze in a New York office block. Then, while watching office workers trying to escape from the building, a plane was seen flying into another block. Still, this was not immediately seen as a cause – it could easily be flying behind the building – until seconds later fire and smoke were signally the second impact. With commentators trying to make some sense of what was unfolding before the world’s eyes, live on television, we watched people throwing themselves from windows. The desperate efforts to escape of those who had one minute before been sipping their morning coffee and were next covered in smoke and confusion with seconds to death or survival.
On the 7th July this year, I had just completed the school run and had a few moments to spare before leaving to teach my first class of the day. I turned on the television news and saw live coverage of a London tube station with commuters escaping covered in blood, debris and soot. Their bloodied and blackened faces showed the confusion and shock that could almost be felt from the other side of the country through a TV screen. Again, commentators tried desperately to find the words to describe the devastation, unable or not allowed to speak the cause. Firstly, suspecting a power surge, it quickly became obvious when a nearby bus was also attacked that this was another bombing.
This, and all the other disasters that we can often view as they are happening, brings the images of death and disaster into our homes and our lives in a way that did not exist during the major wars. The reports of mobile phone calls to loved ones from victims about to die, films of the disaster and a commentaries from someone caught up in the event, make us all participators in the devastation and confusion.
After the event, the relationship with the victims, both the dead and the survivors continues. Their fate is our fate as we follow their path the recovery and commiserate with friends and relatives. This bonding is hard to break and in the case of Diana, the media seemed to find it hard to break the contact with coverage drifting on for weeks. Along with this, there is a feeling
of invasion as we try to tread the fine line of support and compassion and not fall into invasion of personal space.
Off course, we are better prepared to cope with tragedy and disaster and victims are offered counselling and the opportunity to access all that the twenty first century has to offer in the way of its knowledge of post traumatic stress disorder. But we seem to have left our ability to deal with each other on a human level and have created a professional service that replaces our ability to help each other on a personal level.
Tragedies such as those mentioned here are not only about the loss of human life, but signify the loss of so much more. Maybe our relationship with the victims is vicarious, but the loss of our vision and relationship with the world is very real. The aftermath of any of these tragedies is accompanied not just with the human suffering, as we watch the victims trying to cope and make sense of their experience, but also with the loss of the world that we have created.
The words that were so hard to find during the event suddenly come pouring forth with politicians and others trying desperately to find some course of action that will help recreate a shattered identity. By coincidence, or design, ex mayor of New York, Juliani was in London, and President Bush at the G8 Summit in Scotland on 7 July. Juliani’s reactions were given in television and radio broadcasts and concentrated on the human response of the people of London. Warm and encouraging he offered support and encouragement and praised Londoner’s for their calmness and efficiency. By contrast, the politicians united in their condemnation of the terrorist. Words such as ‘cowardly’ and ‘senseless’ and a declaration not to be ‘cowed’ by the terrorists suggested a war like reaction to an enemy that was not to be found, leading to a feeling of frustration and hopelessness in the voices of our elected leaders.
In the traumas that have been described here, it is not only loss of life that we are left to deal with. Those of us on the sidelines are also suffering other losses. The loss of security, loss of trust, loss of belief in society, loss of boundaries. Personal belief systems are challenged, in particular to right to freedom and a respect for others beliefs. Philosophical and spiritual beliefs are put to the test as we struggle to make sense of events. Personal reactions such as anger, guilt and a sense of powerlessness may be accompanied by feelings of grief and confusion.
These emotions may be easier to accept and understand if we see ourselves as a survivor rather than an onlooker. The guilt that accompanies a voyeur as we watch these events unfold is not switched off when the screen is turned off. Violent acts which we have witnessed are often outside our own personal reality and understanding. Beyond human comprehension and alien to our belief systems we are unable to find any way of putting them into a framework that will allow us to return to the beliefs and values that have supported our view of life.
Coping with survival involves conflict and a need to look within ourselves for an answer. The natural reactions to threat are revenge, anger and distrust. We may have met and fought these in our own lives and are shocked that they can be aroused by an external event. Anger is particularly hard to bear as it may bring a loss of faith and trust in a higher power and undermine all our spiritual beliefs.
Feelings of fear, vulnerability and hopelessness may also shake our beliefs as again, our acquaintance with these emotions has usually been related to events within our own experience.
So how do we start our own healing process and process these external events into our lives? I recently attended a meditation weekend at Ampleforth, in North Yorkshire. Amidst the glorious countryside and in the rain that usually plays a major part in the British summer, we gathered to listen to this man who continues to live in Zimbabwe despite the political instability and continuing atrocities. Asked how he managed to reconcile continuing to stay in a country that inflicts such suffering and violation on its people he was able to find purpose in his presence without ignoring the suffering.
In his book Diamond Mind, Rob Nairn explains that an attitude of acceptance involves being present with ‘what is there’.
‘We make discoveries about what is there, and then need to develop skills for working with the unknown and unwanted areas. The skills lie not in soap operas that feature people with ‘bad’ attitudes and what they have on others. There is a very big part of each one of us that we call bad attitude. That’s why these soap characters are so popular, because they play out our own unacknowledged bad attitude.’
Of course, what we are watching and hearing is not a soap opera but real life. What we are then hearing from others is their ‘attitude’. Their reasons, experiences and reactions infiltrate our minds with the authority that goes with the screen and the written word. Our confusion as we try to process all this information telling us how to react, feel and think and our commitment to our own beliefs which may be shaken to their foundations, leaves us trapped into reactivity.
Our own created personal identity which may be strongly influenced by our practise of yoga may lead us to question what we may see as a negative state of mind. We may blame ourselves for allowing the mind to enter into attitudes that we see as ‘unacceptable’ or we may even feel so that we have chosen the ‘wrong path’.
Meditation allows us to explore these feelings. The desire to develop an attitude of acceptance is often misinterpreted as being inactive. Meditation is an active exploration of the mind and an acceptance of all the surprises we may find there.. Nairn describes this as training ourselves to be present in the moment with ‘exactly what is there’.
‘For most people the big surprise is there is a bewildering stranger. One of the greatest strangers in the world is this one in the heart. We don’t know much about ourselves. When we start looking, we discover there is a great deal we don’t want to be with, don’t want to know about, don’t want to feel. Meditation reveals a paradoxical situation. We are travelling through life with a stranger who at some level is trying to communicate with us, yet we want to know only a very limited aspect of that communication.’
Our desire to relate with only the good part of ourselves, and develop those aspects which we attempt to cultivate as part of our own image of ourselves as ‘good’ people, is thrown by the challenge that external disaster raises. Through meditation we are able to accept and grow through these challenges, even reaching parts of the mind which may never have been revealed. They are there. They are real.
Grief holds the possibility of growth. How we view our world may have been shaken and our boundaries violated. We may need to review how we see the world and our place in it. We may find it difficult to trust those that we feel hold responsibility for our safety. These attitudes may be bought into our practise and undermine what may have been a haven unrelated to the real world. Our work now is to bring the outside in and make it part of our growth. Acceptance does not mean forgetting but letting go. Just as we need to yield and let go in our physical practise we also need to accept anything that arises in our mind. True mindfulness does not allow us to reject any thoughts and feelings but rather to accept that they are there and part of us.
The political need to react creates division and demands that choices are made. The headlines that follow any disaster are aimed at stimulating reaction. Acceptance is often misunderstood as approval and a lack of desire to change. Meditation helps us cultivate a mind that is able to accept the unacceptable and reconcile these external events with the need for clarity and composure in our own minds. This flexibility allows flame of the human spirit to survive, and through the living of our own lives avoid the rigidity and narrowness that creates the disasters and violence that inflicts our world.
The actions of the Yogi are neither white (good) nor black (bad); but the actions of others are three kinds: good, bad and mixed. (Patanjali. Bk.4.7.)
The cultivation and an understanding of Patanjali’s ethical disciplines ‘yamas’ can help us rebuild our faith. Evil is not new and we need to equip ourselves with ways of facing this within ourselves and in others. By pretending it does not exist we are open to the shock that accompanies its striking presence. In ahimsa it is believed that if we do wrong we should ask for justice and if the wrong is done by another, they should be forgiveness. This does not mean that a yogi does not oppose evil or wrongdoing. The evil and the act are what are wrong – the person should receive the forgiveness and the act should be fought and punished.
In abhaya there is freedom from fear, and in abhaya freedom from anger. Fear creates anger as we strive to hold on to all that we see as real. Fear of loss – livelihood, youth, possessions – leads to anger as we strive to ward off the ultimate fear, death. Without fear there is no anger and as we try to live within this guidance we are trying to create a life that allows the spirit to be free and without fear.
An acceptance of Patanjali’s words and the cultivation of own minds wisdom and flexibility through mindfulness will help the healing process as we try and find some meaning in the wake of this latest tragedy.
Published in Yoga Magazine www.yogamagazine.com
© Wendy Jacob July 2005
