Zen and the Art of Peacekeeping

What Greg Mortenson taught me about aid and humility

What I am about to confess does not make me look good. But in the interests of full disclosure I'm going to confess it anyway. Because I'm a straight-up, even-if-it-makes-me-look-bad kinda gal.

My confession is that I avoided reading "Three Cups of Tea" for more than a year. My mother read it while I was still in Afghanistan. She emailed me saying she had read a book about an American mountain climber who built schools in Afghanistan and Pakistan. She loved it and thought that I would enjoy it. I didn't think I would enjoy it.

At the time I was living and working in a remote part of Afghanistan and dealing with the mess left behind by well-meaning US soldiers who had decided to build a school for girls in an isolated district of the province where I worked. The school had been abandoned part way through the construction, after the soldiers had returned home, and the community were waiting for someone to come along and finish it.

A local conflict had broken out between the community elders and the construction company that had been contracted to build the school. The company said that the money left by the soldiers hadn't been enough to finish the school so they had to stop work. I was called in to see if I could find some more funders to finish the project.

I was feeling skeptical about well-meaning individuals. I knew that there were organisations like CARE who had built many hundreds of schools in Afghanistan. They worked closely with both the government and the local community. They knew how much a school should cost and they understood that a school without teachers wasn't much good. So they also worked to support training for local teachers.

At the time, if anyone asked me about doing something like what Mortenson was doing I would tell them to give their money to CARE instead. I had seen how badly good intentions can turn. I hadn't even read the book but I placed Mortenson into the same category as those other well-meaning soldiers.

Fast forward almost two years and I have finally read the book. It was a lesson in humility for me. I realised that Mortenson has little in common with 90% of well-intentioned would-be do-gooders.

For one thing he did whatever he said he would do. In the book the local villagers comment on several different occasions about how rare this  was. They had seen many climbers come and go, all making promises to send back assistance. Only Mortenson had ever actually returned and fulfilled his promises.

I know from personal experience how easy it is to make promises to people, promises that you may then find very difficult to fulfil. I learned the hard way not to make a promise unless I was ready to do whatever it took to fulfil it. In the end I made fewer promises and then kept the ones I made.

Secondly, Mortenson did not assume that he knew what was needed. From the outset he asked the elders of the village what they needed. As things progressed he continued to listen, and was willing to admit if he had made a mistake. He trusted the wisdom of the people he claimed to want to serve. This is also much rarer than you might expect. The very best development organisations do this, but many do not, or they pay lip service to local wisdom and then carry on with their own ideas regardless.

Thirdly, he respected the local culture and went to significant lengths to adapt to local religious and cultural traditions and practices. He learned to speak the local languages and even learned to pray in the local style. This degree of respect and commitment is always noticed. In the end it was what saved Mortenson's work when a peeved local Imam tried to issue a fatwa against him.

Fourthly, Mortenson understood that he needed to be in it for the long term. He may not have realised this initially, but once it became obvious that his work was not over he embraced this realisation and continued to do the work he had started.

Fifthly, Mortenson worked out of love. Actually, this one probably encapsulates all the others. It was, I believe, because of the love, gratitude and compassion he felt for the people with whom he was working that he worked as he did: with respect, with trust, with perseverance. This makes all the difference in the world. When I hear my friend working in the South East of Afghanistan, not far from where Mortenson was building schools, talk about her work with local tribe to resolve age-old conflicts I can hear the love in her voice and I know that this is what sustains her and what makes her effective.

So, concerned as I was about the perils of well-intentioned amateurs undertaking development work, Mortenson taught me that they can almost all be overcome with the kind of loving attention that he shows in his work. He's even helped me nurture my own dreams for what I could do to better serve the people I love in Afghanistan.

Spring Cleanse: What next? Nothing!

Image via Pick the Brain

If you took part in the Spring Cleanse, did you practice clearing the time and space to sit in silence for five or ten minutes each day? Maybe you already have a regular meditation practice. If so, awesome! But if not then this is the gift I want to offer you from the cleanse. This is your free take home bonus prize!

You can start your daily meditation practice today. If you already started it as part of the cleanse you can keep going. Keep finding those ten minutes every day to sit in the silence.

Beginner's meditation practice is very simple and I promise you that you can do it and that, if you are doing it, you are doing it right.

Find a quiet, comfortable place to sit. You don't need to sit cross=legged on a cushion if that isn't comfortable. Sit on a chair, but still a little forward if you can so that your back is unsupported and long.

Set an alarm so that you don't have to keep checking the time. If you have one that will sound with something melodic rather than a jarring siren, all the better. Try setting it for ten minutes.

You can practice with your eyes closed or with them gently open, gazing softly at the ground in front of you. Either is fine, see which you prefer.

Take a few rounds of breath to feel your body. As you inhale feel the length and space in your spine, feel your stomach rise, feel your chest expand. As you exhale feel the weight of your body release down into the ground or the chair. Feel the support of the earth or chair beneath you. Inhaling feel space and expansion, exhaling feel release and support.

I find it really helpful to take this time to ground myself in the sensations of my body. It begins to draw my attention in towards centre. Being aware of physical sensations also requires paying attention to the 'right here and now'.

Now, let your mind rest on your breath. Pay attention to your breath. You are not trying to control your breath, not trying to make it different in any way. Simply paying attention to it. 

When your mind wanders away from the breath, and you come to your attention in the middle of a blow-by-blow replay of your latest argument with your husband/wife/child, simply notice that you have drifted into thought and gently return your mind to the breath.

When you next wander from the breath, and realise that you are half-way through a thirty item mental grocery list, simply notice that you have drifted into though and gently return your mind to the breath.

Do you see a pattern here? It really is as simple as that. Your mind will get busy, that is what thinking minds do. Your work here is simply to notice and to realise that you can choose not to go on that journey with the mind. You choose, gently and without judging yourself, to return to the object of your meditation, the breath.

When I first started meditation practice I felt like my mind was a puppy dog. As many times as I gently returned it to the breath it would race off again. Training a puppy takes extraordinary patience, gentleness and perseverance. My mind is much the same. 

Once you set aside the time to sit and practice in this simple way every day you will no doubt find, as I did, many ways to worry about whether you are "doing it right" or not. Know this: If you have carved out the time and you have sat down and you are practicing some form of simple meditation then you are doing it. You are not doing it wrong. You are doing it.

You already know how to be still, you already know peace. Everything is already within you. By making this time every day you are finding your way back to what was already there.

Journey to Jordan

If I didn't have a manuscript to finish by Christmas then I would be going on this photography trip to Jordan. Who could resist?

Ready for an adventure? Come with us on a journey to the enchanting city of Petra, one of the New Seven Wonders of the World. Bring your camera to improve your landscape photography skills with Zohrab, Jordan's premier photographer. Watch a CNN video about Zohrab here.

If you need more enticement, here are my personal top reasons to go:

• The hosts, Tara and Alex, are both experienced travelers, gifted photographers and genuinely nice people. You couldn't ask for better guides.
• Jordan is surely one of the most beautiful countries on the planet. I've been there several times and only wish I had owned a decent camera back in those days. Instead the stark, bold beauty of the desert, the extraordinary, ancient structure of Petra and the people of Jordan live on in my mind's eye.
• Whether you are excited by ancient biblical sites, beautiful handicrafts, stunning opportunities for photography (with Jordan's most acclaimed photographer) or the chance to travel off the beaten tourist track with Tara, who lived in Jordan for years, this trip has it all.
• Hummus and felafel. Just saying!

How chilli seeds are like dreams

My jalapeno babies - taken with my iPhone.

We all have different approaches to our dreams. Some of us love to write them out and draw up plans for how we are going to bring them to life. Others prefer to whisper them to the wind and trust that they will find their way to us when their time is ripe.

I'm somewhere in the middle. I tend my dreams much as I tend my seeds. In my kitchen there are 31 trays of seeds germinating. It is spring in New Zealand and now is the time for planting summer vegetables. This year I am watching over tomato, cucumber, summer squash, chilli, radish and fennel seedlings. As I have tended these precious trays of life I realised that I tend my dreams in very much the same way as I tend these seeds.

I prepare the soil of my life by digging over the rich manure (sometimes known as 'crap') of my past. The manure is richest and most nurturing for future life if it gets warm sun and oxygen. This means not hiding it away, being courageous enough to pay some attention to the manure of my past, digging through it a little and giving it a good turning.

The seeds of my dreams are then planted into the rich fertilised soil of my life. I choose my seeds carefully, listening deeply to my heart and trusting that it knows the right seeds to choose, even if I have no idea when or how they will sprout.

I plant the seeds with love, placing them at just the right depth below the surface of the soil. Too deep and they may not find their way up to the surface for the sun and light they need to survive. Too shallow and they might dry out or be picked off by a passing bird.

I place the seeds in a warm, safe place. They all like something different. The tomatoes like to be on top of my fridge where they are warm and get afternoon sun. The chilli like all-day sun.

My heart's seeds also crave different conditions for their germination. Some love to be in the light, shown off for all to see. My book dream is like that, when that wee seed was planted it stayed deep in the soil for a very long time until I moved it out into the light. As soon as I did it began sprouting. Other dreams sprout best in the shade, far from prying eyes or the possibility of judgement.

My seeds need daily love. When it is warm and sunny outdoors I carry all the trays out onto the porch so they can soak up the rays. As soon as the temperature drops in the evening I carry them all back in again. I feed them plant food, and water them lightly every day. I talk to them. Encouraging those that are peaking through the soil and congratulating those that are reaching tall.

I love them all equally, although differently depending on their needs. But I never really know when each of them will sprout. Some - like the golden tomatoes - sprouted within days of being planted. Others, like the habanero chilli - are only now starting to peak up through the soil eight weeks after they were planted. I have learned that these miraculous little seeds - containing within them all that is needed to grow the fruit and vegetables that will feed me this summer - know perfectly well when the time is right for them to grow.

Not until the days are just so long and the evenings are just so warm will those habanero chilli sprout. I could worry over them, hover over them, poke at them and wonder if I did something wrong when I planted them. None of it will make them sprout a day earlier. So it is, I believe, with my dreams.

I will prepare the soil of my life, I will choose and plant the seeds that my heart dictates, I will water and tend them every day. I will trust that they will sprout when the time is right. No amount of crying or wishing or hoping will make it otherwise. I will do my work and then I will trust.

With thanks and love to Andrea Scher and all the other dreamers at Mondo Beyondo

Because everyone is your people

I've just finished reading 'The Translator', a memoir by Daoud Hari. It is one of the most humane and powerful books I've ever read.

Hari writes about his experiences of the genocide in Darfur. His own village is attacked and his family decimated and scattered. He goes on to work as a translator for UN investigators and journalists in an effort to get the truth told about what had been done to his people. He writes with an extraordinary combination of elegant poetry and brutal honesty and his moral insight is as sharp as a knife.

He is asked why he takes the risk of traveling back into Darfur, over and over again, when he is wanted by the Sudanese government and lives with a constant death threat hanging over his head. In response he says that as long as his people were not safe he could not be safe anywhere. The next line spoke to me so clearly I imagined I could hear his voice here in my kitchen with me:

"How can you be safe if your people are not safe? And so who are your people? Perhaps everyone is your people."

That, my friends, is why I write about the Gaza Strip and Afghanistan. That's why I write about climate change affecting farmers in Tanzania and why I've worked for Oxfam, the United Nations and the Palestinian Human Rights Centre. As long as our people are not safe, how can any of us be safe? And is not everyone our people?

What does yoga have to do with climate action?

Teaching yoga in the sunshine for International Climate Action Day. Photo by Pedram Pirnia of 'Art against War' (Check out Pedram's amazing photos from Afghanistan)

The event I organised for the International Day of Climate Action (24 October) was a free outdoor yoga class in a park in Wellington. So what does yoga have to do with climate action?

As I understand it yoga is a pathway towards the simple but sometimes shocking reality that we really are all one.

The yoga sutras, by Patanjali, set out a very precise system of practices that is designed to bring all aspects of our being into greater balance and harmony.

The yoga path doesn't require us to believe anything, it only invites us to practice. Through practice arises not faith but awareness.

As we follow the path and commit to the practices of yoga we begin to awaken to our own true nature. We come to understand that there is no separation between "me" and "you", nor between "people" and "the planet".

There is no longer an 'away' to which to throw our waste. There is no 'them' on whom to blame the problem, nor to rely upon for a solution. Everywhere is here, everyone is us.

Once we start to wake up to this reality it becomes natural, easy and even inevitable that we will want to live as sustainably as possible.

PS: For more thoughts on what yoga has to do with climate change read these great posts by my friends and co-conspirators in goodness: Nick Potter of Intersect and Kara-Leah Grant of PranaFlow NZ

Why being sad is okay with me

 

Antonio*: good friend, loving husband and father, great listener, straight talker and UN Peacekeeper. May he rest in peace.

I'm sad today. Yesterday suicide bombers and gunmen attacked a UN guesthouse in Kabul and killed nine people. On the same day a car bomb in Pakistan killed many more. I went to bed last night with sadness and I woke up with sadness. But I don't mind being sad.

When I am sad my heart is tender. I feel the deep presence of love that sits beneath the sadness and transforms it into compassion. When I am sad I am also open. I feel the pain of those who suffer, but I also feel the incredible stability of that love. I am no longer afraid of drowning in my sadness. I understand that it arises out of love and that love is big enough to hold it.

So I don't mind being sad. I think it is what our heart and our true nature require in response to times like these. In the sadness our hearts soften, the barriers we have built between ourselves and the rest of the world crumble a little. We feel the truth that we are all always together. We experience the power of our own compassion. In sadness we are very close to love.

Today I'm sad and I'm just fine with that.

*NB: Antonio died last year, not in the attack yesterday, but he's in my heart today.

Spring Cleanse: Week Four

Teaching an outdoor yoga class for International Day of Climate Action. Photo by Pedram Pirnia.

Wow! We are already halfway though the final week of the cleanse. I don't know about you but this process has not gone at all according to plan for me, but I suspect that what I've ended up with was exactly what I needed.

I've been reflecting on what worked best for me this time around (clearing space in my home and - especially - choosing to take a break from negative thoughts about a particular situation) and what really didn't seem to take for me this time at all (giving up chocolate and wine - which I managed fine six months ago).

Instead of leaping into judging myself for my 'weakness' on the chocolate and wine I've been listening to the words of my Buddhist teacher. He encourages me to really listen with kindness to the part of me that thinks or does things of which my judging mind does not approve.  He's not suggesting that I should get all caught up in the stories that might come along with that voice ('I am weak and indulgent') but to hear what my heart is really saying.

What I heard is 'I feel unacknowledged'. The chocolate/glass of wine feels like an acknowledgment of how hard I've been working, a way of treating myself. Listening to that voice and finding some tenderness for it enabled me to create space for that part of me. There was no need to push it away or attach myself to that feeling, I could simply acknowledge it with kindness and know that it too would pass. 

How about you? When you reflect on the cleanse process what do you see? What do you think you'll want to keep up once we get to the end of this month?

What 350 taught me about conscious activism

Dawn ceremony in Wellington to open the International Climate Action Day (photo from www.350.org.nz)

On 24 October, people in 181 countries came together for the most widespread day of environmental action in the planet's history. At over 5200 events around the world, people gathered to call for strong action and bold leadership on the climate crisis. How did they do it?

Lesson One: Harness the Mighty Power of the Interweb

Bill McKibben, the elder statesman of the 350 movement, has already reflected on the role the internet played in making Saturday the extraordinary success that it was. Perhaps the single most critical factor in this has been the expansion of the internet to some of the most remote and isolated corners of the world via mobile phone networks. When Bill came to talk to 350 organisers and climate change activists in Wellington earlier this year he told us a very moving story about a text he had received from a farmer in Bangladesh who was ready to do his part for the climate, the planet and our shared future. This man was already living with the harsh daily reality of climate change as he struggled to adapt his crops to changing and unpredictable weather patterns. He didn't see this as someone else's problem, nor did he see 350 as someone else's movement. Thanks to the reach of the internet via his mobile phone he felt that he was part of the movement and part of the solution.

Lesson Two: Don't Hold to Tightly to Your Brand

The 350 flag was flying in every country on the planet on Saturday. For images of 350 from Papua New Guinea to Denmark and from Ethiopia to Berkeley, check out the 350 Flickr stream. If you were a brand manager, this kind of exposure would surely have you in brand heaven. The 350 co-ordinating team pulled it off with very modest resources. How? As an event organiser for Saturday I was given total freedom to design my event. The 350 co-ordinating committee for New Zealand offered me support if I needed it but made no attempt to control or influence my vision for the day. They encouraged me to use the 350 logo and even hosted an old-fashioned banner-making workshop at their Wellington office so that we would all have the flag ready to fly. I felt supported but never stifled and that left me the space I needed to plan our event in the yogic spirit in which it was conceived, relying on the natural flow of enthusiasm and effort from our local sangha without forcing my timetable or agenda on anyone.

Lesson Three: Bring Your Joy with You and Play Along

Every 350 planning meeting I attended was fun. The wonderful young people who led us always turned up with their passion and sense of joy. We had brainstorming sessions for 350 actions which wandered down pathways of such silliness that we were all rolling on the floor laughing. It was fun to play with those kids and that motivated me to keep coming back for more. I've been involved in different activist groups and movements over the years and the one factor that seems to get lost all too quickly is this sense of joy. It's hard to stay angry or despondent for long when you are invited to play.

Lesson Four: Take Care of Each Other

About halfway through this year I got an invitation to a special meeting of climate activists in Wellington. We were still six months out from the big climate negotiation meeting in Copenhagen (which will take place this December) and we had all already been working actively on local and international climate advocacy for many months. A wise soul in a young body decided it was time to check in with each other about how we were all going. We gathered in a warm, cosy room out the back of a yoga studio. One by one we spoke about how we were and what we needed from each other. Those who were tired or despondent were given gentle words of encouragement. Those who were enthused and inspired found new collaborators. Those who were making big leaps of faith were reminded of the community standing with them as they leapt. We talked, we each prayed in our own way and then we ate together. It was one of the most nourishing  meetings of activists I had ever been part of and it sustained me for many more months.

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I could list a dozen more lessons I have learned from the leaders of 350 in New Zealand and abroad but these four capture the spirit of the movement. With joy, a light grasp, care for each other and very savvy use of the internet, 350 have redefined global movements for social change and have created something more diverse, more playful and more effective than I've seen in a long time.

Aid questions: Secular vs religious organisations

This is the second post in a series answering your questions about aid and development organisations. If you have questions you'd like me to answer then email me, comment here or tweet me @fridaworld. Also new today - you can now subscribe to this blog using the link in the side bar to the left or register to get posts by email using the form  - also in the side bar to the left. Because making your life easier makes me happy. Here is the next question:

I prefer supporting secular aid / development organisations, is that bias unhelpful in some situations?

Some of the best development work I saw in Afghanistan was being supported or implemented by organisations closely affiliated with religions or churches. Catholic Relief Services (CRS), for example, was one of the only organisations bringing resources in to support community level development initiatives in Ghor. They supported women's livelihood projects and helped Afghan women who were establishing women's centres in many villages, places where women could gather to talk, learn and plan their contribution to the development of their communities.

There is a very big difference between professional development organisations that are affiliated with and have a strong supporter base from a particular religion, on the one hand, and missionary groups, on the other. Organisations like CRS are not engaged in proselytizing and make no distinction in their work between people of different faiths. They operate on the same principles of development best practice as do secular development organisations. Missionary groups are a different matter and since I wasn't asked about them I can avoid opening that can of worms.

Having said that, there are plenty of people out there whose personal preference is to support organisations that are affiliated with their religion or church. So I see no problem with others, like yourself, exercising your personal preference in the other direction. There are plenty of really effective secular development organisations out there (Oxfam, Care and Mercy Corps for example) so I think you should put your money where your heart is.