Thanksgiving in a Time of Loss


Thanksgiving in a Time of Loss

By Ferdi Serim


Asking my students to examine all they have to be thankful for opens a dialogue between buoyant possibilities of peace, health, joy and the knowledge that for many, if not most, these are just ideas, not experiences. While this may always be true, it's especially poignant now, with the passings of JFK, LeRoy Finkel and actually any number of people, unknown to most of us, who have shaped our lives. How can one hold joy and grief in the same mind at the same time? How can we ask children to move beyond the superficial and trivial to respond meaningfully to such a spectrum of emotion?

If each of us is but a grain of sand, tossed by time and tide, only allowed the options available by birth, culture and contemporary understandings, how much can we expect to achieve that may last?

One of my favorite places is Wellfleet, on Cape Cod. The Native Americans considered this place sacred, and rightly so, as it captures so many aspects of nature in balance, shaped in spirals by conflicting forces, and destined to disappear, although beyond the time scale we humans can fathom. Its beauty reflects the harshness of the sea, which paradoxically nurtured all life. It's silences are deep enough to evoke a melding of night sky and the deep, a rememberance of where we may be headed, of where we may have come from. Anyone who lives there, or returns each year, knows the measure of impermanence, of the hubris of deigning to build monuments by the sea.

The relentless forces which carve out here, build up there. The power of water and wind stifle dissent, or plan, or desire that it be other than it is. Our yearning to live life with peace, health and joy may seem at times as futile. We're glad that our portion of beach still exists, as we mourn the transition of yet another "place" to "memory".

Looking back, how easy it is to play "what if", as though a suitably clever game could overcome regrets. The image of the Cape is doubly deep, when one considers that this is the place the Pilgrims first came ashore, first found fresh water, first encountered the Native Americans. What if we'd learned to live in harmony with the first Americans? What if Lee Harvey Oswald had gotten into Cuba? What if Yugoslavia had resolved a multi-ethnic identity?

These are the voices of sand swept back out to sea. Captive of forces unknown to any individual grain, the moon and sun cause tide, wind, current and sea to perpetually rearrange preexisting elements into new shapes, sights and sounds.

But we are not mere specks of silicon dioxide. We can and do affect each other. When animated by forces we can't control, we still can choose how to react. The fact is that some people act as waves, as an energy that flows thru a medium, passing on momentum, riding over current and seas, ultimately breaking on the shore. How high we end up can't be known in advance. Watching children build sea walls against the waves, it doesn't matter if the tide is in or out; the errant, chaotic process can summon just one big enough to make you start over again.

I've come to realize that what remains, in driftwood, shell, strand and weed, bears the imprint of such forces, as do the lives of courageous people, from whom we can learn. Even if they're no longer here. Their energy is passed on, from one to another, as a new possibility of perception, or thought, or action. This wave was once the next wave. It doesn't really matter if I'm born into an incoming tide, or an outgoing one. Unlike the sand, I can set a course of building community, of increasing understanding, of helping all I can to uncover the gift they may one day contribute.

Like the sand, or the stars, there are a whole lot of us. Examined individually, we are different, distinct, apart. Taken together, we are an unrealized potential of nature. Great souls, like those recently, not so recently and long ago departed, point us towards our potential. Not to pile up as dunes, or reclaim its own, like the sea, but to know, understand, and act in harmony with the forces we are priveleged to perceive.

We see what we will. To us people, the "world" looks like we want it to, at some level, and attracts appropriate characters from Central Casting. To dull, boring people, a dull and boring world obliges. To active, driven people, the world is always a step beyond. I'm thankful that the world I'm permitted to create is populated by such generous, kind and positive people, appearing from all over the net, and in seemingly never ending numbers, challenging me to do my best, to help as I've been helped, to work to bring more people aboard. I'm glad that such people create me to share in their worlds as well.

So it seems the blessing is in having the opportunity to recognize in so many people the carrying forward of timeless lessons in how to meet the challenges of existence with a proper spirit, to enrich each others lives by the doing of daily work, and the curiosity to see where all this will lead.

Have a holiday season of peace, health and joy!

Ferdi

November 22, 1993
Ferdi Serim (609) 799-0087 (school)
ferdi@tigger.jvnc.net (Global Enterprise Services)
ferdi@cosn.org (Consortium for School Networking)

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