Shundo David Haye – Zen Priest

When I was growing up in England, there was a poignancy in any depiction of the events of 1939; having already struggled through a massive war a generation earlier, here the country was, obliged to face down an authoritarian force of evil. People didn’t know how it was going to unfold, and indeed the first year or two were especially challenging. The spirit with which this was endured coloured the national identity for the rest of the century, even as the Empire was shed and the importance of Britain in the world diminished.

In London, one night in the early nineties, I remember coming home late from an enjoyable jazz gig across town, and (I would guess) turning on the radio to find the first Gulf War had been launched. In 2003, news of the next Gulf War reached us at Tassajara, where we debated the value of being so far from the rest of the world as we were thrown into conflict again.

Somehow, opening my laptop over the weekend to see the attacks on Iran was not a surprise. It was really just another episode of the all-encompassing dread and horror about the way the current US administration views the world, within and beyond the borders. Every day since has brought freshly depressing news, from around the region. We start to consider whether it will be safe to fly to England in a couple of months. But frankly, who knows where we will be by then. 

The teachers’ gathering in June that I am helping to plan resolved last year not to be too precise with the theme of the gathering, as we suspecte events would have overtaken what are priorities were then. This is only going to be more true. 

What can we do? Try to stay focused each day; try not to lose sight of all the other stories that have been buried beneath this tidal wave of headlines; remember what our vows are, and how we can enact them in our lives; do what we can to support the lives of those around us.