Peace Treatments

It seems to have been a given that the deeper I've gone into conflict and peace studies, the more I bump up against things like trauma, grief and loss.  I've come to the conclusion that how we do conflict is predicated on how we did or did not complete our trauma, grief and loss journeys.  In simpler terms - if we have unresolved trauma, grief and loss, we will have unresolved conflict and or be wholly unequipped to deal with current conflicts.  Drawing from my critical incident stress management training and practice, as well as my personal experience and learning through my own trauma and loss journey, including spiritual healing 12 step, I've learned first and foremost that grief and loss are heart issues.  Loss that results in grief makes for a broken heart and yet we try to complete our healing journey with our heads.  Moreover, we are acculturated to negate the confusing feelings that arise from grief and instead, intellectualize ourselves into how we should behave.

One of the teachings I sat under when I was a young(er) adult was the "word faith" message.  The crux of the teaching was that our words speak either life or death, negative or positive..name it, claim it, profess it, possess it.  I don't give much stock to this teaching now however, will concede that our beliefs do have the power to compel our behavior, and our beliefs are often revealed by our words.  A funny thing happened to me this morning as I read a much loved person's facebook status.  She finished her status with that statement " sometimes we don't have the luxury of saying no" and POW... triggered, bristled, hit. First, I got quiet and checked in ... I invited "myself"  to show me what had me so aggitated - in other words, I listened to my heart, my body, my thoughts (and Holy Spirit, who lives there)  And realized that what she had said revealed a deep seeded , and I believe, familial belief,  that it's not permitted in my fa

I was up at Saint Mary's again today.  Wandering the hollow halls, imagining haunted voices and distance laments of children aching for home.  I sensed the terror, physical and palpable, felt first in the depth of the belly and burning it's way up to the the back of the eye, scalding the throat, and manifesting in tears that only beckoned , sadistically inviting more torment...those tears that still drip painfully raw all these years later. Things happened there. Horrible things that an innocent, beautiful child should never have to experience.  Those children belonged to the Creator  and were stolen from the parents to whom He gifted them.  He designed and made each of these little ones with infinite care and immeasurable love - and men and women decreeing themselves as God's instruments, doing God's work but  filled up by the father of lies and the putrid religious pride that compels evil,  harmed them.  Did not our Creator say "If anyone harms one of th

I've been watching 8th Fire, a series on CBC about our relationship (or lack thereof) with Canada's First Nation peoples.  It has been enlightening, informative and I've learned much.  A couple of weeks ago the episode concentrated on the residential schools.  They showed old black and white photos of native children in classrooms.  Row upon row of sad, lonely, scared little faces.  I cried. They showed an archeologist at St Mary's, the last residential school to close,  talking about how they've found unmarked graves full of  little bones.  The children would sneak out at night in a desperate attempt to go home.  Many got lost in the woods, and perished in the brutal Canadian winter.  They were buried in unmarked graves.  I cried.  Beatings, sexual abuse, and other molestations perpetuated on generation after generation of native children in a misguided attempt to "assimilate" them into European culture.  Nuns and priests, pastors and teachers, not