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
