Space Invaders?

[John Dicus]

Keeping open space open is hard work.  In America, we exist in a space
opened by the vision, courage, wisdom and sacrifice of many.  Have we made
mistakes in our journey?  Most certainly, for we are but a work in
progress.  Gorbachev once said that America had something the rest of the
world could only dream about.  And that was her ability to continually
choose the path -- to continually remake herself.  That's our open space.

If we (in this on-line conversation) were facilitators in a ballroom filled
with wide-eyed expectant souls, we'd commit ourselves to keeping the open
space free from space invaders.  Yet the space where we have chosen to
exist -- where I have chosen to exist -- has been invaded.  I have no
responsible course of action other than to take a deep breath and resolve
to help rid this space of those who have attempted to pollute the rich soil
and nurturing atmosphere of it's cultural matrix.  If the space where I
have chosen to exist had been invaded by heart-felt ideals, no matter how
foreign, that would have been one thing.  But those who invaded it did so
by raining body parts and burning jet fuel down on my daughter and her
friends.  To hear her young voice change overnight from a degree of
innocence to a frightening level of sober maturity -- even surpassing that
of her parents -- is indeed very hard to bear.  To say nothing of a
hi-jacking that took place directly over my house, or a bomb-scare aircraft
parked on a ramp next to my mother's home.  With reasonable men I will
reason, but I will not relinquish the freedom and opportunity to
participate in the co-creation of our future.  There's more to holding
space than opening it.  We must also pay attention to what's in the space.

Harrison once said, "Put yourself between your group and the space
invader."  He also said that the space invader should be between you and
the door.  Here, I will give no space to this kind of invader.  And the
door?  There may be no space on this planet for that kind of person.
Listen to how the globe is uniting against intolerable acts of violence.

My engineering and aeronautical background tells me how intolerable and
intentionally evil these acts of space invasion were.  The selection of
human-occupied missiles.  The "permission" to phone home to further
traumatize families.  The way in which the drama was both sudden and drawn
out -- to both shock and to let people "see It coming."  The slow merciless
death.  The selection of planes large enough to carry the jet fuel
necessary to melt the tower's supporting structures.  The selection of
planes with sophisticated flight controls and navigational systems
necessary for pin-point navigation, targeting and maneuverability.  The
knowledge of where to impact each tower such that they stood for a while,
roasting people alive, and then pan-caked on rescuers and fleeing
survivors.  Choreographed like an inverse 4th of July demonstration.  And
choreographed it was.

Perhaps my course of responsible action is to do nothing but hold space for
what wants to happen.  There's nothing harder to do than this form of doing
nothing.

But I understand that to not act is to be as irresponsible as acting too
quickly. Justice and mercy are not either/or concepts.  Being merciful when
you are full of anger is a difficult thing.  Especially when you have no
idea how to direct the anger.  But the other side of the coin is that being
just when you are full of mercy is equally difficult.  And the consequences
of lax justness are as devastating as the consequences of lax mercy.

Harrison said that he hoped we had enough love to go around.  The wonderful
thing about love is that all of us can make love.  This term -- make love
-- has been commonly reserved to describe the satisfaction of human desire.
 But it has a larger meaning.  We can always make more love.  We can always
make enough.  We can make it abound -- if only we will.  If only we will
give space to love in our hearts and let it guide our thoughts and actions.

In the old "Lonesome Dove" Western mini-series, the Texas Rangers
discovered that a good (but erring) friend had stolen some horses for
personal gain.  To steal one's horse was to put that person in harm's way.
Horse thievery carried a penalty of "death by hanging."  The Rangers were
merciful, but they were just.  For some reason that part always tugged at
me.  "Let him go," I thought. "What'll it hurt?"  I'm a lot older and a
little bit wiser now.  And as the anger toward those who nearly killed my
daughter fades into stillness and emptiness, I must have the courage to be
just.  Especially as the call for love and mercy begins to swell within.

Justness and consequences of actions are unpopular topics today.  They are
often overlooked in the quest for sustainability.  Maybe that's part of the
reason sustainability is so elusive.  The tough decisions for our leaders
will fall in this domain.  The decisions with respect to how to balance
justness and mercy.  They won't get it perfect.  But I believe they'll try
harder than ever before.  They need our prayers and support.  They're
trying to create a sustainable global community.

Peace has always had a price.  There are many voices on this list -- silent
and audible -- who have lived enough history so as not to be shortsighted
in wisdom, vision and action.  And there are as many, I imagine, who are
young enough to have as much to learn as they want (and have) to share.
Peace is so illusive -- the kind of peace that is rich with freedom.  I
don't want a peace that lets freedom ebb, rendering me equally enslaved
alongside my fellow-man.  I want a peace that renders me fully free and
fully equal, both at the same time.

Three days ago, we -- as a country -- may have been asleep.  If only even a
little bit.  We were asleep because we weren't consciously stemming the
many small leaks in our reserve of freedom.  We were instead being more
attentive to the things that make us equal.  But what happened next is
heartening.  The things that define who we are, and the things that matter
most to us in life, were only a millimeter below the surface of the facade
we wore on Tuesday morning.  It would have taken only a scratch to awaken
our essence, let alone the gouge we suffered.

So what now?

Some way, somehow, we'll do what needs to be done.  And we'll do it in a
way we'll be proud of as we look back on today fifty years from now.

Strangely, or perhaps thankfully, only the lines from various poems ring
now, in the silence of my heart.



To “be” is to follow Beauty
even when she shall lead you
to the verge of the precipice;

and though she be winged
and you are wingless,

and though she shall pass
beyond the verge, follow her,

for where Beauty is not,
there is nothing.
   (Kahlil Gibran)


Only the ones who believe
ever see what they dream,
ever dream what comes true.
   (Beth Nielsen Chapman & Matt Rollings)


Do you call yourself free?
I want to hear your ruling idea,
and not that you have escaped from a yoke.
   (Friedreich Nietzsche)


I want to beg you, as much as I can,
to have patience with everything unresolved
in your heart, and try to love the questions
themselves as though they were locked
rooms or books written in a very foreign
language.

Don’t search for the answers,
which could not be given to you now,
because you would not be able to live them.

And the point is, to live everything.

Live the questions now.

Perhaps then, someday far in the future,
you will gradually, without even noticing it,
live your way into the answers.

  (Rainer Maria Rilke)


John Dicus

--
John Dicus  |  CornerStone Consulting Associates
- Leadership - Systems Thinking - Teamwork - Open Space - Electric Maze -
2761 Stiegler Road, Valley City, OH 44280
800-773-8017  |  330-725-2728 (2729 fax)
mailto:jdicus at ourfuture.com  |  http://www.ourfuture.com

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