Anyone Listening?

From the Tarot de St. Croix, the Five of Wands; from the Archetype Cards, Healer:

Violence is what happens when we don’t know what else to do with our suffering.

—Parker Palmer

America, in its present divided and volatile state, needs another leader to show people how to protest peacefully without resorting to violence. MLK, Jr., Thich Nhat Hanh, and Gandhi all showed that beneficial change is possible if we have patience and avoid letting our frustration turn to rage as we oppose injustices. Unfortunately, such a leadership position isn't often sought after, as the leader often ends us dead, imprisoned or exiled. Yet violence is inevitable if the voices of those who suffer go unheard. Healer suggests a way to soothe and heal relationships through communication, but this only works if both parties are willing to be open-minded and listen sincerely to another perspective. However, folks generally behave as Steve Covey described: "Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply." 

Benevolence and Restoration

From the Tarot de St. Croix, the Six of Pentacles; from the Archetype Cards, the Healer:

          The two entwined figures of the Buddhist yab-yum is not related to sexual practices but instead depicts the union of dual forces. The male symbolizes compassion and skillful means while the female represents insight and wisdom. We all have something to share - time, energy, skills, knowledge - even if we're not financially well off. When we combine our assets and resources with others, we create a healthier whole. The Healer archetype is one that serves others by helping alleviate and transform their pain. We don't necessarily have to know Reiki to do this; sometimes simply listening deeply to another can help. The themes of benevolence and restoration remind me of a poem by Danusha Laméris called "Small Kindnesses:"

 I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk 
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs 
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” 
when someone sneezes, a leftover 
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. 
And sometimes, when you spill lemons 
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you 
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, 
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile 
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress 
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, 
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far 
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. 
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these 
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”