My Birthday Wish, by Leah Green

Today is my birthday. As facebook posts came in last night with birthday wishes from Palestinian and Israeli peacemakers – people who I’ve been so privileged to meet, listen to, work with and learn from over the past several decades, I realized that I have a birthday wish also.

Writing today as a woman, as a mother, a peacemaker, a global citizen, a spiritual human being and American Jew, my wish this year is for a Palestinian state. Not because I’m some great fan of the modern nation state with all of its many perils, not the least of which is nationalism and ethnocentrism…but because Palestine is a nation, and deserves its place among the other 192 sister countries that comprise the United Nations.

This September, the Palestinian Authority will petition the United Nations for membership, with plans to declare statehood by the end of the year. Most analysts believe that if it came to a vote today, the resolution would pass the U.N. General Assembly with the support of at least 130 out of 193 member nations. Gearing up to face what one Israeli leader called a “political and diplomatic tsunami” coming their way, some of our own political leaders in the U.S. are beginning to threaten the Palestinian leadership with severe measures if they persist with their “audacious” request for independence, including a Security Council veto on the vote, and cutting U.S. aid.

“Statehood is a game-changer,” said Gershon Baskin, co-Director of the respected think tank, Israel-Palestine Center for Research and Information. “Once Palestine is a member state of the United Nations, Israel is no longer occupying ‘undefined disputed territory.’”

"Palestinians prayed near Israeli soldiers on Friday.
They were protesting land confiscation
 in the village of Qusra, near Nablus."
from NY times, April 2, 2011

This “game” is sorely in need of changing. These past decades, I’ve not only been listening, I’ve been watching. The territorial views from all of the high hills and vistas in the West Bank reveal a vast and sprawling network of Israeli settlements extending deep into the heart of Palestinian territory. Half a million settlers – roughly 15% of the Israeli population, now inhabit over 200 trailer outposts, towns and large cities in the West Bank and East Jerusalem, and their growth continues unabated. A comprehensive report published last year by the Israeli Human Rights Organization B’tselem, which included analysis of aerial photography and relied on Israeli military data, shows that settlements control 42% of West Bank land (this figure does not include substantial additional territory controlled by the Israeli military).

This year, we in the international community have a significant opportunity to help bring sanity and international law to bear on this disastrous and even suicidal settlement policy, by encouraging our lawmakers and governments to support Palestinian statehood, and nurture a healthy future for Israelis and Palestinians.

Even if this is not “your” cause; even if you don’t know much about it, please take some time today and join me in a heartfelt vision for historical and ancestral healing for Israel and Palestine. Send your love – because this is how it’s going to happen, with love, not with more hatred or anger or violence. We don’t need more arguing about victims and perpetrators, we need loving acts that will relieve this vicious polarization and acknowledge the humanity of everyone involved. Send your love – imagine the most graceful, peaceful transition to Palestinian statehood, with humane relations with her neighbors; imagine dignity, justice and safety for all…and please, peaceful nights and sweet dreams.

Thank you for listening. This has been my wish for decades, actually. I hope it will be your wish too. I’m blowing out the candles now.

Leah Green

Founder, Compassionate Listening Project.

"To be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, 

but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others."

— Nelson Mandela

Rethinking Our Idea of the 'Perpetrator'

by guest blogger, Catherine Keene

Catherine Keene

When I first begin to talk to people about Compassionate Listening, I explain that our work requires us to listen to all sides of a conflict – both victims and perpetrators – in order to get a better understanding of the whole situation and find the humanity in all parties involved. Although most of the people I speak to believe compassion to be an important virtue, many of them have a difficult time understanding why we would want to listen to those whom we believe to be perpetrators. At best, they believe this is a misuse of our time, as we should be listening more to the ones who are suffering than to the ones who are causing the suffering. At worst, they worry that our work will cause us inadvertently to validate the actions of the perpetrators and thereby encourage them to continue doing harm. So although they admire our compassion for others and our good intentions, they think we are somewhat misled.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about this concern, and I've come to realize that it arises from a disagreement over what it is that causes someone to become a "perpetrator." If you believe a perpetrator has no conscience and is fundamentally destined toward committing evil actions, there might be no incentive to listen to this person, as there would be no hope for change. Or if you believe the perpetrator is completely illogical or even insane, you might see listening to this person as a waste of time because their perspective is outside reality and there is no point at which you can connect with them. In both instances, you might easily feel justified in listening only to the victims, rather than to all sides of a conflict.

But what if the party we think of as a perpetrator is neither sociopathic nor insane, but simply confused or acting out of fear? Will we help them see why they are wrong if we isolate ourselves from them or physically or emotionally attack them? Can we, as listeners, help to resolve a conflict by taking sides and labeling people? Based on my own personal experience – as well as the listening I have done overseas – I would argue that taking sides only causes all involved parties to cling more tightly to their own views and actions, regardless of which label they are given. Those who are called "perpetrators" often feel that they are being attacked by the outside party that labels them (and thus believe they are the victims), so in order to defend and justify themselves, they act out in retaliation and cause more pain. Similarly, those who are used to being called "victims" often believe themselves to be morally superior to the opposing party and look forward to a time when they can get their revenge. In this way, they become the next perpetrators. This polarization causes both parties to remain stuck in conflict, and the pain continues on.

I am reminded of Einstein's claim that "we can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them." So what new type of thinking can we use to break out of this cycle? I believe the answer comes in listening to both sides and admitting to ourselves and to others that we are all to blame for these conflicts. Every one of us has said and done things that hurt others – sometimes daily – and the more we attempt to justify ourselves and protect our egos, the more conflict we create. We are all victims and perpetrators in a multitude of ways. Even when we know that we are extremely fallible ourselves, it is so difficult for us to stop judging others and attempting to make them wrong, in order to assert our own identities. But we must keep in mind that when we label someone and judge them, we are internally distancing ourselves from this person. This eliminates the possibility for us to feel compassion towards them, as there can be no "suffering with" when we are caught up in making them wrong.

Just today I found myself becoming trapped in this polarization when I was reading the morning news. I read about a Christian Republican groupin Florida that is planning to commemorate September 11 this year by burning copies of the Quran. I will confess that my first reaction was outrage at the people planning this event, as I disagree that we will be able to make up for the trauma and loss of life in 2001 by insulting almost one quarter of the world's population and causing them to feel unsafe. At that moment, I most wanted to call these organizers and yell at them and tell them that their actions will only spread more hatred. But the more I thought about this response, the more I realized it would not be any more helpful for me to yell at them than it is for them to blame all Muslims for the 9/11 attacks. If I were to call them in anger, they would feel as though I were attacking them and not recognizing their right to observe the anniversary as they wish. They would then see themselves as the victims in this situation and try to convince others to stand up for their cause. I would get angrier, and they would feel more justified in planning their event. Nothing would be solved, and the tension would grow deeper.

So let's see if Compassionate Listening can free us from this trap. Instead of verbally attacking them and trying to make them wrong, I would like to do something truly courageous and attempt to listen to them. I will still call them, but instead of going in with the intent to "hit people with my peace sign," as Pema Chodron would say, I want to remain compassionate towards them and find out why they are so frightened of Muslims that they feel the need to launch an assault against them. If given the opportunity, I will explain that my fiancé is Muslim and I'm reading the Quran this month for Ramadan and that it is actually a book of peace that is full of wisdom, if we take the time to read it. Maybe I'll even ask them if one person there would be willing to read it, before they decide to burn it. (Of course this is based on the assumption that they have not yet read the Quran, but I find that most people who rant about how evil it is have never opened it.) But mostly I want to take the time to listen to them – not by pretending that I agree with what they are doing, but by explaining that it's important for me to understand why they feel the need to do this. It's important for me to remain connected to everyone, especially those with whom I most disagree.

In conclusion, I hope one day we will realize that the peace so many of us desire can never come from anger and hatred – it can only come when we are in harmony with all beings. So long as we insist on labeling some people "perpetrators," we must continue to label others "victims." But if we have the desire and courage, we can eventually get beyond these judgments and begin to practice real compassion.

Cathy Keene is the Managing Director of the Compassionate Listening Project

Israel and Palestine, from a Buddhist Perspective

By Guest Blogger, Catherine Keene

"However innumerable sentient beings are, I vow to save them."

So begins the first line of the Bodhisattva Vow, a sacred prayer that Mahayana Buddhists recite when they make the commitment to postpone their own path to Nirvana so that they might stay behind on this earth and help free others from suffering. The purpose of the vow is to reassign one's own good deeds to the rest of humanity and to promise to return to this life again and again in order to offer assistance until all beings have reached enlightenment. For Mahayana Buddhists, this is the ultimate show of solidarity and compassion.

I took this vow three years ago out of my love for humanity and compulsion to help others, but I had no way of knowing then just how much this vow would affect my everyday life until I began traveling to Israel and Palestine. In a land trapped in the creation of enemies and violence and polarization, the concept of not resting until *all beings* have been saved is a bit unfamiliar, to say the least. Most people feel compassion for those who are suffering and want justice, but only when it's for the side that they determine is most deserving. If you call their attention to pain felt by the "others," they either refuse to accept that such pain exists, or they minimize it, as though it were inconsequential. Unfortunately, it seems that few people even attempt to "hold the whole" when it comes to the Holy Land.

I often joke that practicing Compassionate Listening makes you become strangely unpopular, and this is never as true as when it comes to discussing this conflict. Many of my Israeli and Jewish and Christian friends have simply told me that I must be lying when I've tried to talk to them about the settler violence in Hebron or the military actions taken in Gaza. I've been accused of being brainwashed and flat out anti-Semitic. Similarly, when I've tried to talk to some of my Palestinian and Muslim friends about why Israel needs to exist and why violence is immoral and hurts everyone, I've been called anti-Muslim and been told to "go back to America, because you'll never understand." No one is hated as much as the one who refuses to choose a side.

So what is a Buddhist to do? How do we tell people from both sides that we want to help them, but only when it doesn't involve forsaking anyone else? If we end the occupation of the West Bank and knock down the Separation Wall and end the blockade around Gaza, the status of human rights in the Middle East will be considerably better, but our work will still not be done until the Israelis are also safe. And if we stop the rocket attacks on Sderot and make it possible for Israelis to travel anywhere in the world and obliterate anti-Semitism once and for all, it will be a glorious day, but it won't be true progress until violence and racism against the Palestinians also end. No solution will be complete until it treats everyone on both sides as equals and protects them all from suffering.

This conflict is so intense and disturbing that I sometimes find myself at a loss for how to help or even what to think about the situation. It can become very easy to blame individual politicians or one particular subgroup - be them the settlers or Hamas - for all the violence and atrocities. But no matter how inhumane the situation becomes, my Buddhist practice reminds me that it does no good to take sides. The ones with the worst inner pain - who then act out in violence against others - are the ones with whom we will spend the most time, as they will continue to be reborn again and again. So we must remember that there is no separation or difference between us and them. We are just as responsible for their actions as we are our own. And the more we try to isolate ourselves and judge one another for our differences, the longer we're all going to be stuck here together.

In summary, I am reminded of a brief but wise koan that I call upon anytime I wish to regain inner balance and deepen my Compassionate Listening practice:

A group of monks once asked their Zen master how it was that he was always able to feel compassion for other people. His response: "What *other* people?"


Cathy Keene is the Administrative Director of the Compassionate Listening Project. She will be co-leading our next training delegation in Israel and Palestine, in late March, 2011


(Please feel free to post a comment. You won't see it immediately, as we have to confirm it, but we deeply appreciate your contributions.)

A Palestinian Boy

For the past two days I've been facilitating a Compassionate Listening training for Palestinian women from all corners of the West Bank. It's a privilege to listen to these strong and courageous women. I've heard a lot of stories about the children, so tonight, I decided to finish this post I began last week about Ibrahim, a fourteen year old boy whose parents we met two weeks ago, during our delegation. 


Our group of 25 compassionate listeners travelled to Jamal and Saadiye’s West Bank home to meet with members of "Wounded Crossing Borders" - Israeli Jews and West Bank Palestinians who have been wounded in the conflict, and have decided to reach out to do the hard work of seeking the humanity on the "other side". We were about forty people altogether, and we happily mingled on the patio, talking in small groups for the first hour, until we gathered for formal introductions and dialogue.

A Palestinian member introduced himself and told us that at the beginning it was very difficult for him to meet Israelis: “I was in prison 3 times and I was shot. I got an invitation to meet with Israelis at the Dead Sea. There have been many, many meetings, including in Bosnia, Switzerland, Jerusalem and in the West Bank.”

An Israeli member added: “We are forty members, working together for two and a half years now. ‘Working’ is a big word for us. Because we see this as a grassroots effort. We are, as you heard, wounded, and crossing borders. I am 85% disabled, and we’ve all spent much time in the hospital. Even now, it’s not so easy…our meetings are full of feelings and emotions. And I can say, is that we are friends. We visit each other. We don’t work on a political level, but we can’t avoid it either. Recently we worked on a document that expresses our values. We are all for a two state solution, and don’t believe in violence. Working people-to-people is not less important than anything else”.

Jamal’s brother Mohammad and sister-in-law (on the far right in the photo) looked quite agitated and depressed. Jamal invited them to speak to the group, so Mohammad shared their story: “The Israeli soldiers came to my house at midnight two nights ago. They surrounded the house for two hours, until 2:00am. Then they asked me to open the door. I have ten children, from age 1- 18. The soldiers asked me to wake all of the children up and to come outside of the house. They took my ID and looked at the IDs of all of the kids.

"Then they asked for my son Ibrahim, who is fourteen and a half years old. They took him with only a shirt, and nothing on his feet. I asked the soldiers if I could bring some clothes for Ibrahim, but they refused. They beat Ibrahim in front of all of his brothers and sisters, and put a blindfold on him and put him in the jeep. They took him to a nearby Israeli settlement called Karmi Tzur. I went to the Red Cross the next day to tell them what happened. That same day at 11:00 I got a call from Ofer prison to say that my son will be in court the next day. We went there about 5:30 am and stayed until 2:00 pm, waiting. When we got inside the court, they brought Ibrahim in, in handcuffs and footcuffs. They told us that they could not proceed with the trial because the report was not ready.

“Today we also went from 5:00am – 11:00am. As ususal, they cuffed his legs and hands, and his legs were bruised from the metal. The lawyer told Ibrahim to speak today and he told the judge that he had been beaten and threatened with electrocution, and that he had only admitted to throwing stones because he was tortured. He told the judge he did not do it.

"Today the court asked me to pay 1,500 shekels to release him (about $400). In addition, they said that every Sunday, Ibrahim must report to Gush Etzion police station from 4:00pm – 6:00pm. This is a child – not even 15 years old and I refused to let him go to Gush Etzion again. I refused to pay.”

Mohammad appealed to the Israeli members of Wounded Crossing Borders to come to the next court appointment, and speak on behalf of the family. They know that having Israeli civilians show up in court on your behalf would be a major event in their favor. But the Israelis told us that the case is complicated - that all is not as it seems. One of the men said, “We do our best to help each other to try to find solutions, but it’s complicated.” Apparently, one of the Israelis found out through army connections that there is strong evidence implicating young Ibrahim in the stone-throwing incident.

Jamal (our host and the boy’s uncle, in the photo on the right), said, “Last week, 25 Israeli soldiers surrounded me and my brother and beat us both. The children saw all of this – it happened close to our house. We live under the occupation – our homes are tear-gassed all of the time. We are prevented from going in and out of our village on a regular basis. The pressures on us are enormous. The children feel everything. They are frustrated. Throwing stones is a way the children release it. My brother, Mohammad, said to one of the soldiers, ‘I am an old man with 8 children, why are you hitting me?’”

We, Compassionate Listeners, managed  to continue breathing throughout this painful story. Ibrahim's mother was in tears and could barely speak. As the mother of a 17-year old son, my heart went out to her. It is so painful when we, as parents, cannot project our children. 

We found out two days later that Ibrahim was released from prison. Though the Israelis did not show up in court, they wrote a letter to the court about their long-standing relationship with Jamal’s family. The family was overjoyed with Ibrahim’s release. Apparently, hundreds of people came to welcome him home that evening.

Although this story had a positive ending, I was left with troubling thoughts. At Jamal’s house, when the boy’s imprisonment was being discussed, it was clear that the Israeli members had doubts about his innocence. But at no time did anyone stand up against or mention the beating and threat of electrocution. Let’s remember – this is a fourteen year old boy. And this is not an isolated story. I’ve spent too much time in Palestine to know that. 

According to Amnesty International in an April 2010 press release: 

"Palestinian children face routine beatings, torture and strip searches.

While some children only spend a few days in detention before their release, others could end up spending years behind bars, the report added.

"These measures run counter to international laws, especially the [United Nations] Convention on the Rights of the Child, which Israel has signed and agreed to," said lawyer Khaled Kuzmar.

There are currently 7,200 Palestinian prisoners in Israeli jails, including 306 children under the age of 18."

I have a issue with imprisoning children. Nearly twenty years ago, during the first Intifada, I admit to taking part in "unarresting" Palestinian youth. It was 1991, and our delegation was staying in the National Palace Hotel in the heart of Palestinian East Jerusalem. There were almost daily skirmishes in the vicinity, and one day, our group was returning back to the hotel when we saw scores of Palestinian youth gathered in the street outside - the numbers quickly mounting. Israeli soldiers had arrested some teenagers, and an atmosphere of fear, panic and chaos ensued as more and more youth streamed into the street to protest. 


Some of us ventured into the crowd for a better look at what was going on. I soon found myself close to the military jeeps, and any time I witnessed a Palestinian youth arrested and placed in a jeep, a group of us would surround the jeep, pull the child out, and push him through the crowd behind us so that he could escape. To me, it felt like that story of the hummingbird who tried to put out a fire by dropping a beak's worth of water on it at a time. These efforts didn't amount to much, but it certainly meant a lot to the 14 and 15 year olds who ate dinner with their families that night instead of sitting in prison. 

1990 and 1991 were defining years for me. I had the opportunity to stay with Palestinian families, sometimes under Israeli curfew - which would trap me in a West Bank or Gaza home for hours or days. There was nothing to do but visit and listen to all of the people in the immediate vicinity. And I was shocked with what I heard and saw. Every single Palestinian family had many horror stories concerning life under occupation. There was simply no way to rationalize it. My Israeli friends had told me that if a Palestinian family was hurt, there had to be a reason for that. But I spoke with many mothers and elderly people during those years, since the husbands and older sons were often in prison, and I was left with no doubt that the violence was systemic.  

To this day, almost 20 years later, I see that it's very difficult for Israeli Jews to believe how harsh the occupation is. People that I speak with want to believe that if a Palestinian home is destroyed, or a family is beaten, or a child arrested, that they did something to deserve that treatment. Israelis predominantly see themselves as the victims in relation to Palestinians, and it's difficult for anyone who defines oneself as a victim to simultaneously see himself as an aggressor. Israeli leaders assure their citizens over and over that if an innocent Palestinian is hurt, it falls under the unfortunately broad banner of "collateral damage" in the line of self-defense. 


I don't hear many people talking about electrocution, except the boys themselves, prisoner rights groups, and international human rights agencies who collect testimonies from the youth. 

(To read Israeli soldiers' testimony directly, click on Breaking the Silence/Shovrim Stika; for testimonies from the children and reports on the subject, click on Defense for Children International). 

I interviewed a group of Palestinian college students today - all young men, who told me that most of the Palestinian youth in prison are boys from high-conflict areas - including refugee camps, Hebron, and towns like Jamal's where contact with the Israeli military presence is the highest. Indeed, Jamal's family lives in a high conflict zone. He wrote us after the delegation to let us know that his wife's nephew had been arrested and released after three days...and so it goes.  


I grieve for all the youth in this story - including the young Israeli soldiers who are asked to do the impossible by their government. There is simply no military solution...

Sami Awad, on Auschwitz, fear, and the meaning of nonviolence

The Israeli attack today on the ships trying to break the blockade on Gaza, brought great sorrow throughout the world. On this dark day, our delegation here in Palestine received the profound gift of listening to Sami Awad, Palestinian non-violence leader. Sami is the founding director of the Holy Land Trust.

Learn more about their work at: http://www.holylandtrust.org/

I am partnering with Holy Land Trust to bring Compassionate Listening training to 30 Palestinian women, June 16th - 18th, at the Everest Hotel in Beit Jala. If you know any women from Palestine who would like to join the training, please have them contact Holy Land Trust directly.

Love and courage in the heart of darkness...

Today we had two inspiring home visits in the West Bank. One with the former Mayor of Beit Ummar - a member of Hamas with the soul of a poet. We met him once before, and tried to meet with him again on our last delegation, but found that he had been arrested and imprisoned with many of the other elected Hamas legislators and officials from the West Bank. After his release from prison, he was not allowed to resume his post.

Today we met Farhan at his parent's home, with many family members joining us, including his mother, and his son Salaheddin (in the photo). We spoke of many things today. At one point in our time together, it seemed that many of us in the circle were in tears. This was unusual, and I continued to wonder what was going on. After a while, this is what came to me: Hamas, who won democratic elections in Palestine, under the intense scrutiny of international monitors including Jimmy Carter, has been existing under an international boycott since just after their election. They received the label of "terrorist organization" from Israel and the United States, which provides a justification for members to be arrested and held without trial at any time. This group has been marginalized within the global community, and very few people take the time to really listen to them - or to understand the distinctions between Hamas in the West Bank and Hamas in Gaza (Hamas in Gaza is a much more muddied situation due to the complete closure for many years now. In Gaza, Hamas includes mafia-like elements, complete with family gangs and feuds. With no access to the outside world, a much more fundamentalist strain has taken hold there.)

The experience of sitting with a West Bank leader, of a marginalized community - one that is suppose to be scary and wicked even, and to find such a beautiful human being - a poet, who speaks the language of the heart...and this, despite multiple arrests, imprisonment, and torture by the Israeli military...
I dare to say that some of us were experiencing the blessing and grace that comes from creating a sense of "wholeness" in the world. Listening to marginalized voices is a deep precept of Compassionate Listening. As Carol Hwoschinsky says so beautifully, each one of us holds pieces of the puzzle, and if we don't listen to one another, we'll never find the answer."

After hearing too many painful stories, Farhan told us near the end of our time together: "I have hope in my heart, so every good act gives me more hope. Even if it’s a very small action, it’s like a hole for more light to pass through. The important thing is to hold the hope that change is coming... People must be honest with themselves. You can cheat others, but you will never be able to cheat yourself. So every small action is important.

"If you notice water, falling down drop by drop, and if you look just under the ground, where the drops are falling, there is a softening there, under the hard surface. We will have it – change must come. If all of us can turn our tears into action – to tear down the walls from within, we can turn our fears into good actions. If you can see me and hear me, and I can see you and hear you, this is one of the starting points. We need to allow ourselves to truly see each other...Don’t look for the empty part of the cup, but always keep looking for the full part, even if it is very small. That will give us the hope and courage to live and love and have the strength to keep standing."
Thank you Farhan, for your incredible hospitality and friendship to us today. I was especially moved by your interaction with your Mother, when you told her that she is your heart. And your mother shared the same about you. I think about the agony of a mother's heart when her child is imprisoned and she is unable to help. Seeing the joy and love in your family was a beautiful gift and we wish for your safety always.

//////////////////////////////////////////

Our second visit was in the same village, at our friend Jamal's home, where about 10 Israeli Jewish members of "Wounded Crossing Borders" joined us. These are Israeli Jews and West Bank Palestinians who have been wounded in the conflict, and have decided to reach out to do the hard work of seeking the humanity on the "other side". One of the Israelis was the former head of the Hebron prison (for Palestinian political prisoners); another was the wife of an Israeli politician who doesn't understand why she is doing this work...

It was beautiful to sit together with these courageous people. For many of the Israelis, this was their first visit to Jamal's home in the West Bank, even though they have all been to Bosnia and Switzerland together, as well as attending numerous meetings together in Jerusalem. The psychological barrier and fear involved in coming to a Palestinian village is immense (especially when your host's home is tear gassed on a regular basis). So this was a special occasion with an atmosphere of friendship, love and celebration (and amazing food, lovingly prepared by Jamal's wife, Saadiye).

Today we have learned so much about love and courage in the heart of darkness. Thank you to all of our incredible teachers. 

(here is a slideshow from our day in Hebron yesterday. To see the photo captions, you have to click the arrow, and it will open the slideshow on flickr. The two photos above are by Ellen Greene, and I took the ones below.)
..

The Empathic Civilization

A friend sent me this video today. It speaks to the very essence of our collective work in the Compassionate Listening Project, along with millions and millions of people and organizations all around the world who are working towards an empathic civilization. As Paul Hawken, Four Years. Go., and others have brought to our attention, the times that we're living in are simply unprecedented - never has there been such a groundswell of individual and grassroots efforts working towards restoring the environment and fostering social justice. As Hawken says, "humanity's collective genius" is bursting through.

I'm dedicating this post to Dan Nichols, a great model for the empathic civilization, who passed on yesterday here in our Indianola community. In his 51 years, Dan taught us much about empathy by how he lived his daily life...a gentle, powerful teacher for so many.