One Nation, Under desks

 One Nation, under Desks

(Paraphrased from Amanda Gorman's poem from Tuesday this week)

I could continue to pace back and forth from small room to terrace, go back to the beach and pick up some more trash hoping to move this pain out of my psyche, or I could write about it.

For my international friends, this line is inspired from a short poem that Amanda Gorman wrote in response to the horrors of gun violence yet again toward little ones, at an elementary school in Texas.  "One education, under desks"

Our national pledge of allegiance is more accurately known now as a pledge to hypocrisy.  Of course there is no One nation, undivided, with liberty and justice for all.  Amanda Gorman nailed it because she knows it, and anyone who holds a global view of humanity can see the arrogance and narrow-mindedness in what we ask our kids to recite in school.  

This year when I was in my home state of California visiting my family who all live on the Central coast, I spent my afternoons relaxing or practicing yoga in the little park behind their home, the park where I watched my nieces grow up, rode bikes with them, kicked the soccer ball around, and watched them grow to become expert tennis players.  One day as I was crossing the wooden plank bridge over the stream that enters the park, a young mom with her little son, perhaps 3-4 years old were walking toward me.  He had just had an energetic exchange with another person in the park, he was carrying his toys.  I heard his mom say, that was very nice that you said hello, but you don't need to tell strangers where you are going and what you are doing, but it was nice that you said, hello.  It wasn't the remarks that hit me at that moment, it was the expression in his young face that went from pure joy to exact opposite, a gray cloud passed his face and he looked afraid.  Boom.  The kid just grew up, he knows now that even in the most intense moment of joy when all feels so light, there is the other shoe that will drop, something to be scared of that he can't understand, yet.  I turned around to watch them go, and saw that his head was down now and his gait slowed.  He was taking this in.  I felt I saw a moment when a kid had to 'grow up.'  His day took a turn.  I hope he asked, why?  I hope his mom found the right words.  But I understand now, this little incident is nothing in a little one's life as, as young as pre-school they are taught about guns, that they will harm them and how to protect themselves.  A child in the U.S. goes to school to learn this.

The first thing I thought of is that quote from Einstein about the important moment in our young lives when we will have to make the decision. is the universe a malevolent one or a benevolent one.   He knew no creativity, no genius, no breakthroughs will come from a place of fear.  Fear is stuck, stagnant. I wanted to find other words for that little guy because of what I saw in his face. 

Tiny kids who hold fear grow to school kids who are nervous and/or can bully their way away from this fear, they can become anxious adolescents then anxious adults who believe in conspiracies, feel they can protect themselves from this fear if they have a gun, we also elect the anxiety-ridden when we are not careful, mindful, resourceful.  I know I just fast-tracked there and it is far more nuanced than this, but is it?  We see it right in front of us everyday when we open our phone.

Amanda goes on to say inhumane, which is what this is.  In a society where taking care of each other is ever increasingly rare, a non-benevolent society. how do we add access to assault weapons to the toxic mix that is our malevolent society.   We, Americans, chose the side Einstein cautioned.  What are we going to do about it?

I remember having to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, K through 4th grade classes, when I was little I didn't understand the words, instead of "indivisible, with liberty and justice for all", I said, invisible, with liberty and it's just all fog.

Schools scared to death.

The truth is, one education

under desks.

Stooped low from bullets

That plunge when we ask

Where our children shall live

and how

and if.

--Amanda Gorman