Showing posts with label against violence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label against violence. Show all posts

Monday, January 15, 2007

Gandhi on non violence


Ahimsa means not to injure any creature by thought, word or deed, not even to the supposed advantage of this creature.
Truth is my religion and ahimsa is the only way of its realisation.
I do not envisage God other than truth and non-violence. If you have accepted the doctrine of ahimsa without a full realization of its implications, you are at liberty to repudiate it.


Friday, January 12, 2007

End of violence

I believe, with all my being, that it is possible to end violence.
Completely.
Suffering can be healed.
It is our choice to have the violence, and
We can chose to live without it.
Completely.
One by one, our choices became our current reality.

With Intention and Conscious Choice

One by one, we create a new reality.
Reality without violence
Reality of New Earth
Of the Radiant Light of Cosmic Unconditional Love

Monday, December 11, 2006

'He who joyfully marches to music rank and file, has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would surely suffice. This disgrace to civilization should be done away with at once. Heroism at command, how violently I hate all this, how despicable and ignoble war is; I would rather be torn to shreds than be a part of so base an action. It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder.'
Albert Einstein: http://www.heartquotes.net/Einstein.html

Friday, December 08, 2006

A nazi leader was at our party today
and people laughed while he spoke
it is just a joke - he is just a clown - they said!
One started shouting against him - only one...
I booooooood and we got him off the stage
because I don't think
that they should be allowed
the right to speak or
the right to be heard...

Friday, December 01, 2006

Trained to kill

The man I met on my one-to-one meeting today was trained to kill.

Pit bull dogs have been selectively bred and trained to kill another dogs in a battle. We hear of them once in awhile when a baby’s head gets bitten or a child gets attacked in the middle of a playing field, and once the Governments get too angry and decide to forbid the dogs within the country. So then, as the protective measure, we kill them all, destroying the creation of our-own sick fantasies, because it became too dangerous for our own species.

Throughout human history, humans were selectively bred and trained to kill other humans in a battle. Governments, armies, police, special forces, secret forces, all our KGBs and CIAs, spend a lot of money to ensure that their faithful men were not disturbed by the order to kill.

Physical and verbal abuse is a commonly used in the training: push-ups, running with heavy loads, shaved heads, complete luck of privacy, abuse and discrimination, crazy officers, all well defined methods with the same aim, so that the men would lose their individuality, their sense of right and wrong, their existing mores and norms, and so that they will accept a new set of values that include hatred, violence, and killing as a way of life.

Another method commonly used is stimulus-response, stimulus-response conditioning. When people are frightened they will do what they have been conditioned to do. The military has made killing a conditioned response. Soldiers and police learn to fire at man-like silhouettes. They train to fire within a second and they are rewarded if the targets are hit properly – shot in the head or heart. So their conditioned response becomes to shoot the target as quickly as possible, to shoot reflexively, to shoot to kill.

And, of course, they are always carefully brained wash so that they believe in the cause of the killing, so that they are fighting against the necessary evil, so that they are hero-s, the chosen ones, the special forces, with no empathy or remorse for the deaths of their fellow human beings or guilt for the murders they have just committed.

Today, I have met one of them.

I am not a part of the US Special Forces any more, he says, once the cold war was over, they didn’t know what to do with us, we were too many, so they started sending us to the front line of the war zones. Once I lost half of my men I decided to quit. There was no sense in staying, it became too dangerous, in fact, it became quite suicidal.

We were sitting at a corner table of a very beautiful Italian restaurant, high ceilings, middle age atmosphere, large windows that cover the whole wall of the place, candles, flowers, all the lot. Through the windows we could see a martial art club practitioners in the middle of their training throwing their legs high.

As a part of special forces did you practice martial arts? I asked.

Martial Arts, he smiled, we mastered a Martial Art called Wang Tsun or Wing Chun.

In the 16th Century in China, he said, there was a set of Buddhist Temples called Shaolin, that were at the time Chinese martial arts training academies. Within the Temples, the monks developed a new, high level martial art, gathering all the experience of the previous systems. The elders shared the most advanced knowledge of the human body, of human psychology, and fighting, and they created a completely new style called Wing Chun.

Wing Chun was designed for a single purpose - hand to hand combat. He said. The monks' goal was to train ordinary people, even women, to fight very effectively in the shortest possible time. Their goal was to create a martial arts system based on simplicity, and efficiency. Every movement of the hands and feet had to be coordinated, precise and powerful and it had to directly apply within a fight. This new art was conducted and passed from monk to monk under secrecy. The legend says that after the Shaolin Temple was burnt among the survivors of the massacres was a Buddhist nun who passed her knowledge onto her chosen disciple, a young girl named Wing Chun. This is why the Art is called Wing Chun.

Wing Chun is like a dance, he said, it is very precise and clear. You do not need all the kicks that you usually find in other Martial Arts, you don’t need all the strength, it is design to be effective. Wing Chun does not have fancy stuff around it, no high kicks, the movements are very refined.

When you stand firm you concentrate all the power in your fist and punch. And he punched the air. Look at the candle, he said, and the strength of the air his punch moved, extinguished the flame in front of me.

Wing Chun is very good in street fighting. It is a close combat fighting. You don’t go for the scull, the scull is not easy to break, you go for knee caps, for the throat and for kidneys. You disable them in a couple of minutes and you disable them for life. They don’t even feel the pain, the pain comes later, if they are alive to feel anything.

There are only three hand forms, you would think it is easy to learn, he said. In fact, it is very easy to learn the combinations, but to do them well you need to practice for years. I practiced for more than 10 years.

It is all about the feeling, if you know how to dance you would know how to do Wing Chun. It is about the sensitivity, relaxation, flexibility, and coordination of arms and hands. He would be looking at my hands and my feet would have already broken his knee caps – it is very fast, very effective. You have to have the knowledge of how to use the force of the opponent against him and how to position your arms, limbs, and body in such a way so that the force becomes explosive. The fights do not last long, they are over in a couple of minutes.

You do not see much of Wing Chun practiced, you see it around high level politicians, their body guards know the skill, otherwise it is rare, because it is so effective and so dangerous.
Choosing a weapon, for example, there is a misconception that a weapon should be a knife, he said, picking up a knife from the table in front of him. A knife is short and you are not controlling the distance. When the weapon is very long you will have an advantage. This vase, for example, is a perfect weapon, I can reach your head, in no time, I just need to develop sufficient strength in the wrist.

You also need to develop calmness and stillness and to wait for the right moment when the distance is just right and if you have trained your elbow and finger strikes you can go for the points of the body that are most effective, most sensitive and most unprotected. I used it in real fights; and I developed a reaction, if you are close to me, or you are touching a particular point of my body, I would immediately react, my reaction would be fight, very quickly I would go into the right position and fight.

The footwork of Wing Chun never advances in a straight line. For example, extend your both hands from your body, your arms creating a triangle surrounding your body. I’ve done what he told me. Advancing straight would bring me directly into the tip of the triangle you have created, to the point of its greatest strength. My body automatically kept the triangle strong. And the triangle is the strongest force in nature, he said, that is why pyramids are triangular in shape and they stayed standing for 1,000s of years. That is why the footwork of the Wing Chun closes on you at an angle giving me control over my own timing and your balance. It is a dance, just like a dance.

A dance that kills I thought, moving my hands slightly backwards so that he can not touch me any more.

The head is hard and once you are choosing the target you need to go for the sensitive parts - the eyes, nose, and teeth, they are fragile. A strike to the eyes will disable the opponent, he won’t be able to see let alone fight. Attacking the upper gate keeps the opponent occupied. He cannot ignore the fact that an attack is aimed at his face. So than you go for his knees, when he does not expect it, you disable his legs breaking his knee caps.

After this, I changed the subject, we talked about art, business, food, movies, concerts, but his description of Wing Chun stayed with me all through the evening.

To the monks, in China, 400 years back, martial arts were methods to cultivate their bodies, hearts and nourish their Buddha nature. They were carefully passed from monk to monk so that the art is not abused or misused. When Wing Chun left the Temples, the students who were thought the discipline were not beginners, they had already gone through the years of previous martial arts and Buddhist training. The monks combined the art with the philosophy keeping the teaching secret and sacred for hundreds of years.

Today, I was sitting with a man whose left hand was broken in many, many places in the close combat. His heart was also broken and I felt sorry for him.

I went home ending our never to start little romance and went to the bed shivering every time I thought of his left hand.

I cried because of all the karma he has accumulated following his path in the quest to be the best one, the best within the army, the best within the special forces, one of the heroes of some people’s children’s stories, the one who saves and fights and kills so that some will have ‘better lives’.

I cried because I knew that we have created him, with our myths and legends that still tolerate and approve killings, and still believe in heroes. I cried because I could hear the cries of all the mothers that hated him because he killed their sons, I cried because of the endlessness of the circle we live in, the circle of hunters and victims and victims that become hunters just because they believe in the motives of their actions.

And I prayed, with all the might of my prayer, I prayed for the humanity to realise that there is no motive strong enough to justify killings, there is no excuse pure enough to allow murders. Do Not Kill is the First Law and the Main Law that we have abused and exchanged with many other rules and regulations giving ourselves the right to take the Sacred Gift of Life away from other Sentient Beings.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

A man trained to kill

he was within US special forces
he had his group of fighters

they were all trained to kill

his left hand is broken in 5 places
his eyes lit when he talks about fight

He says: most of the martial arts have too many kicks
you don't need that - it is unnecessary,
the only thing you need is to know how to control the distance
and than you go for the throught, kidneys and knee caps
Skull is too hard, you do not go for the head

And he says - they don´t even feel the pain - pain comes later
and you disable them for life
or kill them in a minute...

He talks about people as though he talks about numbers

They were trained to fight the comunists
and when the cold war was over
Army didn't know what to do with them
- they were too many
so they started sending them to war zones
to get them killed...

He said, I lost half of my people
when I decided to quit
I went to Europe, saw people in suits, living ok,
with an ok salary - and I thought: I can do this
I got a suit and started my own business

I don´t fight any more he said, only once
when 3 people tried to rob me - they were from Yugoslavia

One was behind me with the gun and I felt his distance
He is close enough for me to get him, I thought
and the fight was over in 2 minutes, they were all unconscious
before I even put my money into my pocket...

And I cried after I met him
I cried for the humanity that has created him
I cried for him and all the ones he wouldn't count
And I prayed for him
I prayed with all the might of my prayer
So God would forgive him and forgive us for letting it happen

Monday, May 15, 2006

a story of an abused child

She is gentle and fragile. She is kind and understanding. She is love incarnated.

Her body talks for her, expressing her emotions, thoughts & worries stronger than her words. When she laughs, she laughs loudly, holding her stomach and deeply bowing her head, when she dislikes something, she frowns as though the end of the world is approaching and even if she tried, she could not, in any possible way, she could not, keep her face motionless. Her hands move swiftly around her body emphasising her stories. She would even move her legs, if only she does not need them to keep the rest of her body upright. Her emotions are strong, fertile, instantaneous, very child-like and completely visible to anybody who cares to look. She is a sensitive flower, with white petals that stay white no matter what mud she has just been through. She is completely open, like an open book, the one that the cruel would love to tear and the kind would love to comfort.

Now, to have such a face, is not that easy, because a shop-assistant that has no goods that she desires, will quickly feel offended by her frown and withdraw into hostility. The tired, the numb, the motionless, and these are many, the ones that have learned to hide anything that happens within them, would get confused and than quickly offended by her childish look and touch, and would try to do anything to stop her from being who she is. They mother her and father her or ignore her and hurt her, depending of what stage of animal to human evolution they found themselves in. And yet, she does not mean to harm - anybody.

Whenever I meet her I realise that I have never met anybody so tactile and humble in my life. When she talks her eyes are shining reflecting all the enthusiasm of her talk, when she is silent she withdraws into the depths of the silence only known to a few – to the ones who know and the ones who were abused. She would withdraw when in a presence of a group of people she doesn’t know, when in a presence of older men, men of authority, when in a presence of anybody cleverer, more beautiful and more confident – and these are many.

She does not remember her story but I do because I saw it. She spent 2 years of her toddler life in a hospital, surrounded by white coats and needles, by faceless bodies and soulless rules that would not allow her parents in, unless it is a weekend and it is a visiting hour. She says, she remembers a dog barking and the child within her scream – it is them, it is them, it is my mum and my dad and my sister arriving. I remember being extremely happy because I am gonna see her again, and I will give her a bear that I got as a present and I saved to protect her from the emptiness of a dark room, from monsters under her bad, from other children’s pain, from grown-ups insanity, from night-mares, from lone loneliness that only a child left on its-own can know, and I was there and there was a woman standing at the door barring my entry – you can not come in, she said, there is a virus in the town and we do not want it spread. You do not understand, I said in my little mind, I do not have a virus, I have her bear and I have to give it to her, it is hers to protect her from your awfully white coat, and these awfully white walls, and that awfully white bed that hides insanities of this strange world. And I run under her wide spread legs to the bed where I will see her eyes and give her what was rightfully hers.

Going out of the hospital with 2 metal rods to strengthen her legs, 2 years later, with a mother that would not allow her to do anything, scared for her every move, scared for her-own motherhood, scared for the future and the future of the future. And S was fine, she was strong, and she could do it, she could do anything if she was just allowed – but she wasn’t. She wasn’t allowed to walk, to talk, to read, to move, to act, to stretch, she was not allowed to be. And she was sent to school and she suffered because everybody seamed to do better, to know better, to be better. And children sensed the possibility of a bloody hunt and that amused them and they became hunters dreaming every possible cruelty to harm her. She is scared of needles, so they got needles and chased her around the court-yard so that they can catch her and sit on top her and put the needles into her tender skin and hear her screaming – and nobody did anything about it. Teachers, parents, passers-by, not a single grown-up raised their voice to stop this fury that had no reason and no end, to stop the sado-masochism that was carefully cultivated among these cruel little minds. And this generation was particularly cruel. Our math teacher found a fastidious pleasure in torturing her in front of the class proving to the class and himself and her how worthless she is.

I was one year younger than the rest of the class and I was not their equal. I was waiting to grow-up so that I can face them and stop the sickness that was surrounding us. And I did it, some years later, as soon as I could, after I stopped crying in the corridors waiting for somebody to notice. And she, she bared it all, burring the experiences under the thick cote of memories and losing them because they were too scary to remember. But I stayed conscious, because I was too scared that if I forgot everybody would and the story would repeat again, as it did so many times. And I saw my mum losing the control because S didn’t listen, because she was too strong to be broken apart, and I saw her changing her thrashing tools from a hand to a belt, taken off my father’s trousers, to a coat hanger or a flying ash tray if they could help her burning rage. She was unconscious of her unconsciousness and she lived surrounded by her own shadows, by her own guilt of being a mother of an abused child.

And contrary to all odds, S. did not get angry, did not need to forgive, and did not rebel, she responded with kindness unknown to human race, a quality dreamt of, by some of the most devoted Buddhist. Do not hurt anybody in front of S. – she will do anything to help the victim, to stop you, to diminish the pain. She will get-up to give you her chair no matter how much younger or fitter than she you might be. Her soft smile and soft touch and a kiss even for a stranger, and her incredible awareness of other people sufferings, sometimes feel unreal in this world of human contours that so viciously fight for their small ‘self’ forgetting the other, any-other.

She is gentle and fragile. She is kind and understanding. She is love in-personified. Her body talks for her, expressing her emotions, thoughts & worries…