Plague Journal, Buddhist Thought And Violence
Today is Sunday. I remember when growing up in North Carolina, Sunday was referred to as “the day of rest.” That meant that it was customary to spend a portion of the morning in attendance at a church “worship” service. Worship meant minimally that respect was shown for a shared tradition of stories and community norms by one’s presence with your fellow town’s people at the gathering. Many businesses were closed on Sunday in that day.
Much has changed since the 50s and 60s when I grew up. A few days ago two individuals demonstrating with Black Lives Matter, protesting the police shooting of Jason Blake in Kenosha, were killed by an armed individual from Antioch Illinois. The White shooter was drawn to Kenosha, to protect the community. This mornings NYT reported that an individual, a White counter protester was killed in Portland, Oregon last night. And so it goes, Kurt Vonnegut would have said.
I feel particularly drawn to the Buddhist tradition of thought, an attempt to understand our mind/emotions. What happens when we feel threatened, afraid? What is happening internally, in our gut when we just feel that “things are slipping away?” Is that how armed Whites feel when they are drawn to counter the BLM protests in Kenosha? What ingrained habits of mind, and past encounters — trigger a police officer to draw his weapon at the back of a Black person? To put it another way, what can we learn about the slippery slope of violence? What changes when one is suddenly willing to take another life? What tips a civil individual into a murderous rage?
Last night we went for a short walk to the Fox River, contemplating the robust flow under the bridge. Then we found repose by the river at the Bar Evolution patio. We listened to a few tunes by Friday Jackson, a two piece cover band. They said that this was their first gig since the onset of the pandemic, and hoped they could remember all of the words of the songs.
They did a great job.
