Remembrance Day from a Pacifist's Perspective

Remembrance Day from a Pacifist's Perspective

 

Remembrance Day has been a very uncomfortable holiday for me for many years. It is a day where I tend to lie low and avoid leaving the house. While I have chosen not to observe the ceremonies I also have not wanted to be disrespectful to the many who do use this day as a day of remembrance.

As a young child I was very proud to attend Remembrance Day ceremonies. Both of my grandfathers had served in the British armed forces in the 2nd world war. I felt proud to be British. I felt proud to be Canadian. I felt proud of my grandfathers.

In my teens or early 20’s – I am not exactly sure when  – my values of pacifism grew and as a result the idea of Remembrance Day grew more difficult for me.

Now I want to be clear, this was in no way because I had lost respect for the people who stepped up to serve their country in a selfless way. It is because along with honouring fallen soldiers came the flood of sadness about the existence of war for me. I couldn’t separate the two in my own mind. This was not apathy on my part, but instead it was an irreconcilable dichotomy in my mind and in my heart. In the end it was easier for me to just avoid the whole thing.

I have such a deep longing for peace on the planet that it is a palpable feeling in my chest. I am desperate for people all over the world to be able to leave their houses feeling safe to enjoy the beauty of life without the fears and devastation of war. I have the first two lines prayer of St. Francis tattooed to my left ankle – “Make me an instrument of peace. Where there is hatred let me sow love” – so that should give you some perspective on how deeply rooted this value of peace is for me.

Five years ago I began a relationship with a wonderful man.  Just as our relationship was starting he lost his father. These two events will be forever intertwined in our lives for a number of reasons. My partner Derek’s father had been a prisoner of war at the end of the 2nd world war and Remembrance Day was a very big deal to him and his family. If things hadn’t been awkward for me before, they sure were now.

For the first few years, I made excuses and hummed and hawed when the question came up about whether I would be attending the Remembrance Day service. It was uncomfortable but it just became one of those things we didn’t talk much about and we just went off and did our own thing on November 11th.

After many years of studying new thought principle though, I am well aware that my resistance to Remembrance Day is in no way going to bring about the peace in the world that I so desire. I recognize that it is a copout for me not wanting to face the emotional pain that accompanies this day for me.  In fact with all of the energy I have wrapped up around this it could be said that I am indirectly contributing my energy to the very thing I am trying to avoid. After all, energy is energy – and I clearly have a lot of energy around this issue.

On my spiritual journey and I am currently exploring non-resistance. This means that I am making my best effort to welcome everything into my life recognizing that it serves my highest good in some way or other. I try not to label things as good or bad, but just to recognize them as a part of my experience in the moment. I also try not to cling to things in my life recognizing the impermanence of everything. This is no easy feat and despite a whole lot of meditation and mindfulness it is something I fail at regularly.

In my focus of non-resistance, I have approached Remembrance Day differently this year. I didn’t have the impending panic (for the most part) as November 11th approached and Derek and I even discussed that I might attend the service this year.

The morning did not end up unfolding that way though and I am a little embarrassed to admit that I was walking through the mall at 11 am. The only way I knew it was 11 was because “The Last Post” started playing over the PA system.

What happened next was quite profound. An elderly man sitting on one of the chairs stood up and took off his hat. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stood still. During the two minutes of silence you could have heard a pin drop throughout the very busy mall. I was quite emotional as I stood there next to my very patriotic historian son (who has been wearing his own personally customized poppy for weeks).

In that moment, I was proud to be British. I was proud to be Canadian. And I was able to separate my respect and honour for those who have given their lives to protect the rights and freedom of the rest of us. And this time there was no underlying dichotomy. I was non-resistant to life. I was at peace.

Amanda Pope

Practitioner