People let’s look what’s really going down
In old Suvanna-bhumi there are gems in the ground
No rice on the table — oldest story in the book
Mercedes in a new city of generals and crooks
The Lady’s under lock and key, she says: “Freedom from fear!”
Monks and nuns are on the streets, shine their light through clouds of tears…

Chorus: Arise! Arise!

We’re standing side by side
And if you raise your weapons
We will look you in the eye
until the hate subsides
The eyes of the world
will look you in the eye….

Half a world away I’ve got a healthy pension planned
on slave labor and helicopters — and even heroin
Everything is normal here, everything is clean
Till I turn from 9 to 5 to that shining little screen
The Lady’s under lock and key, she says: “Freedom from fear!”
Monks and nuns out on the streets shine their light through clouds of tears…

Chorus : Arise! Arise!

We’re standing side by side
And if you raise your weapons
We will look you in the eye
until the fear subsides
The eyes of the world
will look you in the eye….

Everyone has the ears to hear the sound when people cry
Everyone’s a choice to make as we walk our own fine lines
So if I call you brother now, how will you reply?
No longer can we just abide in the “eye for an eye”!
The Lady’s under lock and key, she says: “Freedom from fear!”
Monks and nuns are on the street, shine that light through clouds of tears…

Chorus: Arise! Arise!

We’re standing side by side
And if you raise your weapons
We will look you in the eye
until the hate subsides
The eyes of the world
until the fear subsides
until those fires die…

The eyes of the world
The eyes of the world
The eyes of the world

by Martin Adam

Due to the evolution of nuclear weapons and the mutual annihilation inherent in their use, the reliance of politics on violent means throughout the centuries is called into question. While tracking the evolution of violence, Schell reveals a simultaneous force, moving in counterpoint to the martial system; a tradition of non-violence, born of the world’s spiritual traditions.

Like a sort of “shadow” river, flowing beneath the turbulent surface of the historical ocean, this force has been more persistent than we might suppose.

Indeed, our United States constitution was created from tributaries that tapped the ancient river of peaceful means. Its principles form a cauldron within which we are scorched in the flames of our mistakes, yet blessed with the freedom to correct ourselves.

Most of us sense that violence, as a means to settle our differences, has run its course. We sense, urgently, that in order to supersede global disasters, we must learn to think and act differently.

Enlightened leaders claim that the age-old dream of a peaceful world begins with individuals.

They implore us to look into the mirror–into our hearts–and be honest about what we see. They invite us to live in the moment, to stay awake; to ask ourselves if our methods are working or not working; to notice when our passions need tempering; to ask who or what needs more love from us; to open to the admission that, in the deepest strata of life’s mysteries, the others are us and we are they.

To engage this awareness in good faith and to act upon it, we are taught, is to empower the ancient river–to help one another in constructing new reality from old dreams.

Enormous threat bears enormous potential. Will our world mind blow open the gates…and move with that river, where missiles are rendered obsolete? Where the true battle for freedom finds its authentic locale, in hearts and souls?

In the murky waters of a darkened age, may our mistakes be revealed, and may we learn to hasten the slow dawn of expanding light.

by Barbara Bowen
Artist and Creative Consultant
www.GatewaysCoaching.com
Brooklyn, New York

I do not believe that taking an activist stance against any situation leads to solution; it empowers the situation further and draws more people in. Instead of shouting about where things aren’t working let’s examine where they are.

For example: New York City is a perfect paradigm for harmonious coexistence of all peoples. Everyday millions of people take time to worship in their own diverse way.

They chant, sing, dance, pray, meditate, wave incense, light candles, kiss a dice or whatever, all seeking to connect to that highest and best inner transcendent Self. Let’s celebrate that.

Let’s dive right into a joyful all out party of sharing what we love, what lights our hearts and what feeds our souls and drown out the terror, war, atrocities and fear driven propaganda.

by Muriel Stockdale
Film-maker, Director
“New York City Spirit”
New York, New York USA
www.nycspirit.com

Over time, I slowly began to examine my beliefs, picking up each one and holding it against my experience to see if it belonged, like testing colors on the canvas of my life. I grappled with reality to discover my own meaning rather than accept spoon-fed truth. I’ve come to believe the meaning of life can’t be taught, only revealed or created depending upon the angle of your gaze. This is the struggle to be free.

I’ve spent too much time asking how and not enough asking why. Asking how explains the mechanics of things, but asking why leads to a confrontation with mystery, giving life depth and richness. I try to question everything now, including myself. Answers close doors; freedom is in the question.

After years of scheming to get what I don’t really want, I’ve found the question isn’t always “is it possible, but is it worthwhile, is it good, is it true”? After a lifetime of bad choices, I realize I’m asleep most of the time and believe that the freedom exists only if I’m awake and aware in that moment between stimulus and response, impulse and action.

Wisdom is more rare than intelligence but more vital for freedom. The quest for personal salvation trivializes life, I’m wiser when I include more people under the umbrella of “us” and leave fewer of “them” outside in the rain of my indifference. A humanity of isolated individuals is an illusion. The same spark burns in us all. So, although I’m not capable of a beatific love for everyone, I make an effort to tolerate, accept, and lend a hand in the struggle of others to be human and by doing so feel more human myself.

I believe that some comfort is necessary, but too much leads to stagnation and bondage. Freedom is in consciously choosing simple pleasures that affirm life. Meals prepared with care, wine, friends and good conversation. The sun on my skin, the breeze on my face as I tense and sweat to climb a steep mountain trail. A captivating idea.

The music of the Beatles and the “Moonlight Sonata.” Movies that make me cry. The memory of my mother’s smile, my father’s hand on my shoulder, and the faces of my children and their children. Loving a good and faithful woman, and being loved in return. Honest work. A stranger’s smile. Sitting silently.

What makes these things so sweet is the understanding of their delicate and transient nature. I read about impermanence in my philosophy books as a younger man; it was only as I aged that its reality hit me in the gut. I believe gratitude for each moment is a natural response to this realization. To be grateful is a conscious act, and therefore is also a path to freedom.

The stories we’ve created over the centuries come nowhere near explaining the enormity of life, why things happen, or why anything exists at all. Nothing really had to be, and the fact that you, me, or anything exists is a source of wonder. When we feel our way back into this source from which we emerge moment by moment, we liberate freedom.

by Kevin Ionno
Savannah, Georgia, USA

The Jewish New Year began on Friday, September 23rd at sundown. I learned that this year, Rosh Hashana happens to coincide with Ramadan. Led by our rabbi, we stood and sang for Shalom, peace throughout the world. Over and over again, our songs and prayers hoped for a better world, in which kindness, justice, and compassion prevailed over dogmatism, selfishness and cruelty.

Freedom is knowing deep in our marrow that we are inter-connected. Community is organic and love is a verb. We held hands with our neighbors. We picked up their scarves when they fell to the muddy floor of the huge tent under which we sat. I held a child on my lap as her mother went to the port-o-potty for a bathroom break. We dipped freshly backed challah and apples into honey, with the hope that this year should be sweet.

We took a moment to remember those who had died in the past year and those who grieved rose and said Kaddish. We took a moment to acknowledge all the children who attended service; one young red-headed girl gave an impassioned speech for her local food-fund. In her eyes and in her voice I like to think I heard the voice of the future, the heart not afraid to dream big dreams.

As I sat in synagogue in Woodstock, NY, home of hippies, artists, and progressive-thinking people, my heart was full of freedom —full of spontaneity, dance, & wisdom; longing, grief and regrets also.

When synagogue was over, and we trudged through the muddy parking lot, for it had rained and it was damp outside, the people in my car complained about: the mud, the rain, how long the service was, their runny noses, their hunger, the shapes of their noses, the texture of their hair. We had a difficult time deciding where to eat and what.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was free to listen. I was free to respond. I was free to yell and scream. I was free to keep the spirit alive in me, the spirit that one could feel under that damp tent for over 5 hours of prayer. I was free to keep my heart open. Not to be armored and angry and full of fear.

Judaism teaches us it is our duty to— “tikkun ha-olam” — to repair the world. To bear witness to suffering, to hear the cries of pain, and to respond with dignity. The opportunity to do this difficult work is an exercise of freedom. And like any exercise, sometimes it hurts.

By Lisa Grunberger
New York, NY