Deeming Dreaming

There are ways I imagine it could have happened.  There are the ways I am glad it did happen.  And there are the ways in between the two – the misunderstood wakings of life that seemed to blow through at a speed and velocity beyond my knowing.

I am an ordinary sort of woman.  When I say “ordinary” I do not mean un-remarkable but insomuch that my cell is one of billions of intricate and individuals specimens.  I am ordinary in my uniqueness.

Life seems to throw you curve balls sometimes.  Sometimes it might seem like they are travelling to you more than other people.  Some of this can be determined by geography, time and economics- and others merely beg belief and return for more.

She was pressed fiercely against the brick wall.  His intent-murder.

Eleven am on a Thursday.  I am passing through Glasgow City Centre a maze of happy shoppers, googley babies in prams and very proper grandmas on outings.

The two-mile walk from my home to this spot had been thoroughly enjoyable as I stretched my limbs and expanded my lungs.  Not without it’s imperfection this walk as my brain contemplated what is ‘right’ – in my life, in the world.  These are constant choirs for me that I try to silence with my own masterful intent.  I do not really wish to be ‘that good’, not saintly, I am totally imperfect with my own demons to be sure…and of this earth entirely.  Thoughts of dance tame my soul for the minute.

Then there she is.

A trapped animal.

Frozen.

Dressed quite appropriately – but not well off.  Dressed with care and attention.  A petite woman.  Small jewelry to match her frame.  Clean hair pulled back. A new coat for autumn.

He was not so kind in appearance.  Ragged.  Old jeans.  Jacket too big.  Gaunt.  Haggard.  Boiling.  With baby blue eyes.

Towering over her.

“STOP”

I shout as he head butts her, and her skull makes a loud crack on the bricks.

The force of that and my voice pauses the action for a moment.  I am standing right there.

“YOU STOP THAT”

I say forcefully indicating for him to continue down the hill and I quickly pulled her towards me.

“YOU LEAVE HER ALONE.  GO ON.  GO.  AWAY. ENOUGH”

All delivered as we are walking away, he the opposite direction, my arm is around her small shoulders.

He does what he is told.

At first.

Pulling her along quickly up the hill, the bridge of her nose is bleeding.  She is in shock.  I am in shock but still moving.

But we are not safe.  Not yet.

Looking over my shoulder I see he has changed his mind and is charging towards us.

“RUN!” I shout pulling her towards me.

The RSAMD is just a half block away, monitored by 5 security guards, it is our salvation.  We dodge in front of traffic, me tightly directing her by the arm as he picks up his pace to run towards us.

He wants to kill her.  I don’t doubt it.

As he gains on us, she goes into shutdown mode.  Her pace begins to slowdown, collapse, to protect herself for the beating she is sure to receive.

“RUN!” I say again, pulling harder.

We get into the lobby of the RSAMD.

Breathless I say “This man was battering her right out in front”

On cue the man runs in behind.

He is obviously out of it, and very dangerous.

The guards block his way.

“We are going to call the police”

The woman cowers behind me.  He backs out.

And then it’s just Rita and me.

She doesn’t want to call the Police.  Doesn’t want to press charges.

She is too afraid.

…I am concerned for her well being…she’s recently moved to a a house where he can’t find her…she’s just in Glasgow for the day…she’s going to call her Dad…no, no police…he has schizophrenia….Women’s Aid they’ll help you, here’s the address and phone number….

And then a hug.

“If he comes near you again you run, RUN, don’t think about it.  You are precious, you need to keep yourself safe.”

But I felt dead.  I believe these words, but am empty of emotion from it all.

And what of the man?  He’s somebody’s baby.  Someone somewhere looked at him and loved him if even for a minute.  And now this. Beating a woman on the street.

In my mind’s eye I wish men would have come forward to offer him help and support in some significant way.  I don’t even know what that means exactly.  But her getting help and being safe is pointless unless he also is well.  Otherwise the help is merely diversion.

And maybe she knows this.  Hence her reticence.  Or maybe she longs for death.

I don’t know and I don’t understand.  I have acted without thought, pure instinct.  But is that enough?

With love,

Kate E. xx

Consider your thoughts.  Consider what fills your brain most of the time.

I considered this and came to the realization that outside of the minutiae that fills my head (grocery lists and things I have to DO sometime in the future) that a lot of my life’s mental time has been focused on the worries of myself, my family, and the greater world.  I spend a lot of time thinking about what is wrong and how I am going to make it better.

Not one moment; not one has been dedicated to imagining that perfect world in and of itself, my perfection has always been tied into the dis-ease of existence.  And, I believe, if that’s the case, then this world I am visioning will continue to be so.

So here I am at 37, a woman who has committed herself to living a life with meaning and yet has not put the energy into the larger vision of that.

If we are spending so much of our mental, emotional and spiritual energy ‘combating’ problems rather then visioning the world we could have then something seems to be missing.  If that perfection cannot even be conceived in thought form in our bodies for a fraction of our lives, how is it that it will happen?

If we can’t imagine it, how can we live it?  How can we go about creating it and ensuring this perfect world for ourselves, for our children and our children’s children?

We ‘hope for the best, expect the worst’. This is so we are not disappointed.  But I don’t think that’s enough.

We fill our heads with endless worries, pre-active thoughts to things that might happen.

But what would happen if we each spent five minutes a day imagining…

Impossibly delightful things…Super-duper fantastically delicious moments… Syncronized epic chimes of certainty… Joyfully exuberant dances of matched souls…Authentically compassionate moments of loving…

Peace.

Lasting peace.

Mindful gentleness…Expansive kindness…The true celebration of diversity… The delighting in the unique aspects of our world…

Loving affection…

Balance.

Harmony.

Connection.

Curiosity.  Discovery. Inner discovery.  Discovery of another.  Care.  Consideration.  Laughter.  Fun!

Wisdom.

What would happen if the whole world sought authentically to be wise?

To allow ourselves to rest when we need resting, to care when caring is needed, to be childlike even when not a child?

Simplicity. Recognizing the divinity within and without.

Beauty.  Truth.  Freedom.  Comfort.  Love.  Self-love.  Loving those who’ve hurt us.  Being loved by those whom we’ve hurt. Emotional bravery.  Expansion.

Breathing.  Joy. Time. Solitude.  Community. Abundance. Being seen for who you truly are.  Allowing yourself to live according to your best and truest nature.  Good health for all people.  Happiness.

Five minutes for us all to live that great perfection in our imaginations, if we did that, what would happen?  And what would you add?

In loving spirit and with glorious wishes for you all!
Kate E. xx

Photograph: “Hope” Alison George; “Faerie Wishes” Basharat Khan

I am unsettled.

It was a beautiful autumn day.  A day of perfection with ribbons of blue sky stretching in every direction; of clear air cleansing you of every impurity; of fresh steps and promise.

With a bag of groceries in preparation for a meal for friends later I bounded up the stairs of Pollokshields East train station feeling positive and happy.

Then the shutters closed, suddenly and without warning.

In front of me, about 1/2 block away I saw what appeared to be the tail end of a Police sting operation.  A squad car had cut off a driver and six officers were surrounding the man.  Four uniformed police officers, white male in their 20s; and two plain clothes police, also white males in their twenties and two Asian (of Pakistani decent but by all accounts Glaswegian) men also in their 20s being questioned. (I say these things very particularly for since I have replayed the scene in my head I have swapped ages, gender and ethnicity to see if it would make any more or less sense or if I could even imagine it happening).

I assumed they had committed or were suspected of some serious crime, dealing drugs or they had been speeding – out of control in some way.

I continued past the scene and happened to catch the Asian man ask the plain clothed officer

“What is this all about”?

“This is just a routine check” was the officer’s reply

“This is a routine check???” queried the Asian man indicated the car that was blocking half the road and then five other officers in tow.

This is a routine check it echoed in my mind.  I couldn’t imagine what it was all about but it seemed a severe action to nothing. I stood at the corner waiting for the light to change- red-green-red again.  I didn’t move I was watching the interaction between police and men.

I turned on my heel and entered the scene.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you say that this was a routine check?”

“Yes ma’am”

“This seems like quite an extreme action for routine.  As a resident of Pollokshields I’d like to say that I am not in agreement with your approach.  This is a nice community and this sends the wrong message.   Having the police car like that makes this appear as if there is some sort of criminal activity.”

“That’s so they can’t drive away”

“I wonder if you use the same approach in predominantly white neighbourhoods?”

“You can make a complaint to my superintendent”

“I will” I replied, adding to the Asian men “Salaam alakuum” (which means peace upon you)

So I turned on my heel and left, crossed the road.  By this time people were coming out of the shops and standing on corners to observe the action.  Two men were standing outside their Realty Office.  I stop to explain.

“The police say that’s just a routine check, those boys aren’t guilty of anything”

“That’s a routine check”?? They say in amazement

“I know,” I say, “I’m going to make a complaint, this is a nice area to live, I don’t want this kind of thing happening here”

“How embarrassing for those boys” says the one man.

“Yeah”, I agree, “now everyone thinks that they are guilty of some crime and that it’s happened here”

“Terrible” their response.

Realizing I don’t have the details to make a complaint I turn around and for a second time approach the officers.

“If I am going to make a complaint I’ll need your details” I say to the lead officer.

The plain clothes PC gives me his info, I turn back for the last time and walk home, very much shaken by the experience.  I call the number and make the complaint, but I feel that something is lost in the translation.

And I also can’t help but feel that I’ve missed out an opportunity to address something in the moment of happening.

My initial reaction of injustice was right. And injustice is an imbalance.  But I didn’t right the imbalance, too involved in the very complex internal and external struggles that were present.  I couldn’t find my own peace in that situation and therefore couldn’t bring it to any side of the story.

I am pretty sure that those white male officers believe me to be a silly woman, not understanding the importance of such activities.  But perhaps they haven’t considered or been taught what implications simple acts have in a larger world.

For the people observing that action that live or work in Pollokshields, they may believe that there is serious crime being perpetrated in their community.  For those passing through it reinforces (or creates) the idea that Pollokshields or Asian men, or Muslim men to be untrustworthy as perpetrators of crime.  For the young people of the neighbourhood, who I am eager to nurture positively I wonder what message that sends?

Conversely, for those men who were stopped or for our community who know the truth of the situation it challenges our belief in the justice system, our trust in our Police force is eroded.  We begin to mistrust the police who are there to aid us.  This mistrust from all sides, over time develops unstable communities and in worse cases a subculture of justice as represented by gangs or mafias, the underworld of crime.

Just because something is lawful doesn’t make it just.  A police officer may have the right to pull random people over without cause that doesn’t make it right.  They must be encouraged to have wisdom with their power otherwise the power will be short lived.

I wish I could have done more in that situation.  I do not believe the officers to be bad people, misguided, sure but that’s not a hopeless situation. I wish I could have taken that moment and opened their eyes in some way.

I live in a good community, not perfect, but with good people.  I do not wish these bold and misguided acts to become a destabilizing force to that goodness.  And I must consider how I can continue to be a an agent for peace.

And so I am unsettled.

In peace, with love

Kate E. xx